In the immortal words of Hannibal Smith, I love it when a plan comes together.
My friends arrived exactly on time, seconds after I pulled into the garage with a carload of food for today. I was running extremely late, but I managed to get the house and Park as clean and organized as I wanted it before I went grocery shopping. There had to be a tradeoff somewhere. My girlfriends assured me (several times, because I am needy), that they weren't upset that we had to spend the first couple hours prepping and cooking. Once we all got to eat, dinner was amazing. If I knew how to make the little music notes symbols appear in text, I would insert those here, because I definitely sang the word "amazing" in my head when I typed it. One of my friends marinated chicken for two days before we grilled it, and another brought rib eyes with the best marinade of all time. The bonfire leader was tasked with bringing artichokes to prepare on the grill, and none of us--even I, the only one of us with experience cooking them, had any idea how much effort would go into trimming them, prying out the chokes, parboiling, and then grilling them. But they were a highlight of the meal, nonetheless. Everything was delicious. Not a single disappointment in the bunch.
I have spent days (and enough of the man's money that I expect a talking-to) setting up the deck and the yard. It was the dreamy space I have always wanted, and then some tonight. It felt private and cozy, with enough room for all of us to move about comfortably. I made up for my feelings of inadequacy facing the permanent Bonfire ring by bringing home a fire pit from Lowe's, and my darling man-friends ("boyfriends" sounds wrong in this application) set it up for me while I was still panicking over food. They even gathered a few dropped limbs and scrap wood to burn, helping me out a little with the Park. I had lanterns ringing the deck, and I am making progress burning through a large packing box of candles that has followed us through the last couple moves. The man has instructed me that I am not to buy any new candles until that box has been emptied (but you know I can't resist a few of them here and there.) I'm tired and more than a little inebriated, but I desperately wanted to stay outside after everyone went home, watching the dancing flames and catching gentle scents of eucalyptus or gardenia waft across the deck as a breeze blew past each candle. I feel like I have arrived. My home is perfect for me, and my favorite people in town joined me in celebrating its perfection.
My animals made me proud. At first, I had the dogs locked up in my bedroom, for fear that the little red-headed dog would not behave himself, and would be aggressive when faced with the first wave of multiple male visitors since his papa went back overseas after his vacation last winter. For almost four hours, he barked through my bedroom door. But once we were done eating and he was set free for his own dinner, he was a doll. The professional eater was as loving with everyone as I knew she would be, but the red-headed dog fell all over one of my man friends, singling him out as a clear favorite. This friend scratched him so thoroughly, nearly an entire extra dog's worth of fur undercoat blew out. One of the men ended up raking it off the deck to clear it out. The old man cat never left us alone, until the moment he had to join the dogs in bedroom prison, so that we could eat in peace. That old man has never experienced a shy moment in sixteen years. He must have thought this was his birthday party (right date), for all that he was trying to be the center of attention. My big bear of a huntress was loving up on everyone, and everyone appreciated what a hussy she was. We couldn't get enough of her. The big surprise of the evening was my big boy cat, who made an appearance an hour after dinner, and wandered around the kitchen, deck, and Park until full dark. I thought he would hide all night like Athena did. He's braver than I gave him credit for being.
I hope my friends know well how much I love them. Being able to open my doors to them was everything I hoped it would be and more. Truly it was their gift to me, coming to my house and letting me share everything I've worked on, my physical representation of my self, with them. This is not just my house. It is me, and I love them for accepting it and enjoying it.
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