2013 Supermoon. My birthday party. June 22. Be there with a Canadian Tuxedo on, or be square. And bring some sparkly jewelry. And champagne and an appetite. Oh, and by the way. We got a disco ball. That rotates.
We were ready. We had sent out Evites and warned the (selectively chosen) concerned parties about
the dress code that would be enforced.
Everyone seemed to follow the rules. The outfits were pretty phenomenal, as Canadian Tuxedos go.
I don’t like to brag, ordinarily, but…
This menu was pretty kick-ass.
Tarragon Tanqueray lemonade (with tarragon from my garden and fresh-squeezed lemon juice, obviously). Ribeye and NY Strip (marinated in sage from my garden). Sauteed mushrooms. Middle Eastern potato salad. Salad with greens picked exclusively from my garden! (I had to check with mom to make sure I was not serving our guests any weeds). And I had a DIY herb bar for the gin lemonade just in case tarragon wasn’t quite your style…
One of our guests was like “Oh god. A DIY herb bar? All grown from your garden? That is so Denver. Or Washington State.”
I just beamed and showed him how to muddle his shit.
And we had a table, elegantly set, in the bodega. There were white tablecloths, candles and proper silverware and plates. We opened the garage door to get some cross breeze, which turned out to be quite refreshing…
All these beautiful table settings and homegrown touches make me feel like… we were in a magazine!
My mom pulled through with fresh roses from her garden. In a variety of vases and colors.
Just my style.
Everyone was enjoying the scene with their beverages and denim.
I could not have been more pleased.
And then the Super Moon rose. Holy cow.
And we commenced dining. And the table was still beautiful, even without plates of food and laughing people (is this a magazine feature right now!?).
And we had a surprise Glenmorangie Scotch tasting, compliments of the lovely Munzert duo. Because we are fancy like that.
And I changed my outfit into a tutu. Because I was the birthday girl!
Are you admiring my fabulous denim cuffs?
And then we indulged in 3 kinds of pie, all made by my mom. Rhubarb, rhubarb-strawberry, and blueberry. We all went bonkers for the blueberry, which was a recipe hoarded since 1971, when my mom was 18. It. Was. Delicious. We demanded that she make several more pies. More on that soon.
Feeding frenzy at the pie table.
I would like to call your attention
my blinking high heel shoe. That’s right. These are lucite heels purchased at Walmart 8 years ago. They still blink. I was telling a friend at the party (in a moment of panic when my heel didn’t blink when I stomped on it (it was only momentary)):
“You know you’re old when your see-thru plastic heels stop blinking.”
[Followed by hysterical laughter].
They were a full size too small, but I bought them anyhow because I simply
And the bull bolos were flaunted, beneath the glittering disco ball.
And we laughed at each others’ outfits (especially the hand-painted flowers on this denim shirt).