No, really - her city house is the size of a sugar cube and her birthday is in February, the coldest month, so when a big deal birthday came up and they asked what they could do, she said a party was in order, but not now, not now, wait until there's sun and wide open spaces, like on the farm in August.

She was sure the party would be fun and told herself to remember the pink press-on moustaches she had bought for just such an occasion.

The night before the party, she was almost bursting with excitment. There was fear, too, because she had a deep respect for elementals, also known as fairies, some of whom disguise themselves as the smell of sun on pine. And so she bought dollar store wings and made silly hat things, sort of pipe cleaners twisted up to look lofty for the elementals that hover and hup! and hang off branches in the great big green that surrounds that farm.

They told her not to do it, that they were planning it all, but she was writing a fae novel and so ingrained in fairy lore and superstition that she was scared that a party on the farm in the woods would piss off the fairies but silly hat things would be like flags and seeing how ridiculous humans are, any elementals would forgive the intrusion and be appeased. She fussed until she was sure she had it covered: elementals would be happy and everyone human who wanted to hide behind a pipe cleaner...could.

The night before the party she worried that nobody would show up, that there are huge stinging bugs at the farm and holes and believing in fairies is flakey and then she got distracted when, the night before the party, an old friend called, saying she was afraid that after covid she had no more social skills. That friend called. The woman had to be there for her. Silly hats were not enough so the woman soothed her old friend by explaining that pink press-on moustaches would be available for anyone socially inept.

The next day came and yes, the best ones started showing up! First Paint Brusher danced down the path and then Guitar, then Bird Momma Nurse and her patient man, then Soft Gentle Breath, then Deer Girl posing as a Bee with a Kite, then Felted Pig Head (who had formed the snout that turned out to look like a penis and we said 'Yep, yep, it does.').

Then the Even More Souls arrived: New Ones and Right Ones, the City Friends, the Young Guns and Heart Summons, all of them disguised as people. Others showed up and puppies and presents and more guests, too, and they wore the pipe cleaners she had twisted up for the elementals that hang on branches in the big green that surrounds that farm.

Off to the side, Big Momma Nurse said, yep, she was feeling shy. She asked the woman if she had remembered the moustaches? To make her friend comfortable they both wore them, along with the pipe cleaner hats and wings. When others asked what was happening, why the moustaches, the woman and Big Momma Nurse explained they were wearing pink press-on moustaches because they felt socially inept and most people are, so there. More and more folks wore the pink press-ons with silly hats and wings along with what they had worn and soon it was a high shy fashion event.

Someone had hired 3 psychics. It was great to see the wonder in guests eyes when they heard everyone got 15 minutes with the one of their choice.

Her kids had made chocolate cupcakes from scratch. There is no electricity at the farm, no refrigerators, so the icing had to be piped onto those cupcakes and it was chocolate and squeezed out of a baggy so it looked like dog poo coils and that made some laugh and they were the best cakers, ever. 'Happy birthday' was sung over a champagne candle. Just one. That's enough.

Games got played at the party: Eat the Good Food, Corn Hole, Drink the Bespoke Lavender Lemon Gin Cockatails, Fly the Bee's Kite, Tame a Boxer Pup, Tell a Joke, Hug Old Friends and Smile at the New. So much good swirled that 6 acres was hardly any space for Bad News and so we left that world behind to be there and we were There.

It gets dark in the country, and fast, and suddenly the woods lean in and everything is fringed in secrets and there's a huddle of party goers around a campfire. This is when Music swooped in. From zippers came guitar and ukelele and Felted Pig Head had brought a washboard. From deep pockets came voices and the night time ran with the songs we sang and a raccoon loved the show.

Not everyone showed up but the right ones showed up - true friends show up, some of them overcoming great obstacles to celebrate the big deal birthday of that woman.

More Friends arrived! Two had left for the 40 minute trip 4 hours ago and the roads got the best of their GPS and they got lost so now their crock pot held lukewarm meatballs and we all looked at the meat sideways and said how tasty they looked.


There were fireworks!

A party is up and down and it's funny; the woman had been to probably hundreds of them, but most never turn into a kick ass party, they stay a timid gathering, a soiree of whispers, a nice little get - together. At a get - together, people mill about, searching for a polite laugh or two. They eat tidy food and drink and hope for a swirl of connection. Maybe they network to make more money and so they give or get a business card. Nobody shows anyone their mental panties. Best case scenario at a get - together is they build a footbridge to someone else. Very few get - togethers manage to rise to the occasion and it is what it is but this was a party...a p.a.r.t.y.:

P. (People).

A. (Acting).

R. (Really).

T. (Terrifically).

Y. (Yourself).

On the farm they threw a party and she wants to write about it but how do you say the sun shone clear, breezes blew and there was not a bug in sight, how her children were there and their loves and her love and friend loves and the smell of sun on pine?

Like this.

It was such the Best Party Ever.