Rosie And Mr. Hawthorne Are Invited To A Partay!

The Hawthornes were invited to a party

yesterday afternoon down the street with our neighbors, Zack and Nan Wilson. As usual, all names have been changed to protect the guilty. After introductions (You will be tested on this later.) and a few drinks, I initiated a discussion about "stripper names." Your stripper name is the name of your first pet and the name of the street you grew up on. For example, there was an episode of Will and Grace where Karen and Jack went to a Drag Queen Party on Halloween and they were figuring out their "Drag Queen Names." Karen's, fabulously, was Shu Shu Fontana and Jack's, sadly and predictably, was Glen 125th. Some people just don't have a chance. I forget most of the names last night, but one person's name would have been ? 35th. (I forget his first name, but it was painfully similar to Jack's.) Mine, of course, is Rosie Hawthorne. My favorite of the evening, and the only one I remembered, was Zack's sister's name: Spooky Sycamore. Spooky, that just ROCKS! Now anybody else who was there that afternoon and reading this, please post a comment and tell me your stripper name. Or anyone else for that matter. This could be a lot of fun. If I were a male porn star, my name would be Buck Nekkid.

OK. Let's just say the tone of the party has been set. Nan? You are freakin' faboo!

Yup. This is my kind of partay.

I'm feeling right at home. Why do you think the Hawthornes moved to the East Coast? Cause we can start drinkin' first. 5 o' clock comes earlier for us.

I'm sitting in my little corner of the breezeway, at the Partay, next to the food, of course, and start shooting pictures.

I'm always fascinated by other peoples' houses. Fish much, Zack?

I love the geometry here.

I like stark.

And Dreamboat Annie. I love Dream Boat Annie. Because I am she. And, Nan, you are too.

You can tell so much about people by their homes. Some are very sad to me. Their homes are sterile. There's no personality. There's nothing of "self." There's nothing that calls out to me in a good way. These homes make me want to run. It is sad. Because I love certain people there. Zack and Nan's home is not sterile and I mean that in a wonderful way. It is full of "selves." It is vibrant. It's full of personality. It's full of happiness. It's full of possibilities. It's full of friendship. It's full of love. I remember once going into a friend's home. And I became extremely sad. It was the home of a young man and his family. There was no "self," no "selves" in that house. I had a hard time calling it a home. There were professional "photographs" of the children on the walls. But there was nothing spontaneous. Nothing of substance. Nothing of feeling. There was no inkling of the people who lived there. The house/"home" was like a furniture store showcase. These people didn't offer anything to the scenario. Someone did it for them. It was painfully obvious. I'm sure they don't think of it that way. But it saddened me. And once again, I digress. But it's my blog and I can say what I damn well please.

This? Makes me happy.

The boys are just warming up.

On The Cover of the Rolling Stone! Let's take a break and check out the food.

Spinach dip and excellent shrimp with a very nice cocktail sauce. Yes. I want my allergy-ravaged nasal passages to burn from horseradish. I meant that in a good way.

Fruits for the fruits.

Potato salad.

Coleslaw.

Barbecue. What did you expect? This is the South. We have the ubiquitous BBQ, tater salad, coleslaw, and beans at every gathering. (Sorry, didn't get a picture of the beans, but you know what they look like.) This is my offering - chips, guacamole, and salsa ... (Love that table!) ... and my corn bean tortilla pie. Six layers, baby.

Pretty flowers.

Long Tall Texan.

Now this following video is funny. When I got to Zack and Nan's I noticed there were two dogs in attendance, owned by invitees, not the inviters. Well, shoot. I immediately wanted to go back home and bring Dixie and Junior as I didn't know this was a BYOD affair. Back to the following video: Notice Jeanette Bloomfield racing in front of me to pick up her little ball o' fur.

Seems Baby had a bit of an accident.

Well, Jeanette, I think this walk is a wee bit too late. The damage has already been done.

Enjoy. Thanks so much Zach & Nan for another wonderful get-together. It's so very convenient. I can be the designated drinker and walk home. We need to do this more often. Next time, our place. Friends! Fast forward to Sunday morning. I wake up at 12:30 AM. Go back to a restless sleep. Then it's 6:30 AM after a shitload of weird dreams. I had too much to dream last night. I get up at 6:30 because it's a beautiful day. It's raining. Well, not exactly. Let's say it had been drizzling sometime during the night. I'm stoked. Because that means all the seeds I planted in pots on the deck and in certain places throughout the yard are going to be germinating now. You can water all you want. It takes rain water for seeds to kick in and for plants to thrive and flourish. Back to my point, as it were. Which I didn't mention. My glasses. I woke up and couldn't find my glasses. And I do this all day long. Everyday. Several times a day. I hate this. I look in all the usual places. Sofa. Underneath. Cushions. Bedroom. Bathrooms. Kitchen counters. Cars. Nowhere. Finally, Zack called this afternoon to tell me I'd left my glasses at his place. Sweet Jesus, thank you. I walk the dogs down the Zack's and Nan's and pick up my glasses. Thankful. Like I told 'em. Thank God it wasn't my pants or my shirt I was lookin' for. Although I did miss my glasses last night since I wanted to finish up War and Peace. So, fast-forward to tonight. Sunday. I was thrilled I had my glasses back. Then, I started writing this post, get to a stopping point, and leave to go outside with Mr. H. to show him what's blooming. When we get back in, I look for my glasses. Once again. They are gone. Looked inside. Rechecked my route outside. Glasses are nowhere to be found. I am not stoked anymore. Now, I am stressed.

Great partay! Thank you.