ALL GIRLS XMAS PARTY

This past Sunday, December 11, I had my 27^th All Girls Xmas Party.  It started in the mid 1980’s when I invited friends and coworkers to my house on a December afternoon for appetizers and champagne.  It’s an interesting, different dynamic with girls only parties.  I don’t know if it makes us more carefree, a little less worried about things we say and do, but it seems to be a freer, more open atmosphere.  It must be enjoyable because people keep showing up!  The cast of characters has changed over the years.  Some have moved away and new friends were added when I changed companies.  After leaving the office world with the birth of my daughter, the parties became my connecting link with people I otherwise would never see again.  Every year is different and I’m never sure who will be there or not due to unforeseen circumstances.  People get the flu or have trips or obligations that interfere with the chosen date. 

There was one very memorable year which my core–group friends will remember, when a special guest made an unforgettable appearance.  My dad called to tell me he and Mom were coming down for Christmas.  Their arrival date coincided with the day I had planned my party.  Everyone knew and loved my dad.  He was a talented musician and artist and had a wicked sense of humor.  He was the kind of person everyone respected and wanted to be around because he was so much fun.  I told Dad jokingly that he was welcome to come but he would have to dress like a woman since it was an all girls party.  Given his sense of humor, I should have known he would do just that.  He went to Sears and bought the biggest blue party dress he could find and even donned hose and heels.  Mom did his makeup and provided him with a wig and a pearl necklace and earrings.  Dad was not a small person; not a man who could easily transform into a woman.  He was tall and big boned with large hands and feet.  With perfect comedic timing, he waited until the party was in full swing, then made his entrance by descending the staircase, slowly swishing his hips and holding his hand out for balance in a feminine way.  I heard one of my friends whisper behind me, “Who is that ugly old woman?”  and I tried to keep from laughing.  With an affected, high voice, he announced, “Hello, I’m Ima Laflame!”  My friends, always polite, tried to engage ”her” in conversation.  You could see the wheels turning as they tried to puzzle out exactly who “she” was.  Dad was able to keep up the charade for a full hour before someone finally figured him out.  Then there was much laughter and inappropriate grabbing at his fake boobs.  Dad ate it up, laughing with everyone at his own joke and posing for pictures with them.  I don’t think any of us ever laughed so hard as we did that year.  The event has become legendary; something those who witnessed it speak of fondly. 

There have been some years when only a handful of friends showed up, allowing me to give each person more attention,  and years when my home is vibrant and alive with the voices and laughter of my brilliant and wonderful friends.   I am always thrilled, no matter how many show up, to see my friends, and honored that they want to keep coming and keep the tradition alive year after year.  New champagne sister friends have been added through the years and seem to enjoy it too.  If I didn’t have this party every year, most of these dear friends would disappear from my life forever.  It is just too easy to lose touch with people when you no longer see them on a daily basis.  Life and hectic schedules get in the way and ruin the best intentions.  This party is a way of connecting with old and new friends, keeping old memories alive and creating new ones as well.  Thank you, dear friends.  It’s a pleasure and an honor to have you in my home at Christmastime.

BIRTHDAY LUNCH

I love traditions.  They keep us connected to each other in an often chaotic and confusing world.  My very good friend, Sally, and I have known each other since we worked together at the Board of Realtors in 1976.  Not only were we together 8 hours every day, we also shared lunches and happy hours together.  We became best friends for life and a witness to each other to the many life altering changes we each have gone through.  We only worked together a couple years but have maintained our friendship through parties and get togethers that have unfortunately become few and far between, dwindling down to my Christmas party and our once a year birthday lunch.  My birthday is November 12 and Sally’s is December 5, and we have made it our tradition to get together on a day that falls between those dates.  Every year without fail, Sally calls and sings Happy Birthday to me in Bill Murray fashion (from his SNL days).  Then we set a date for our annual Olive Garden lunch where we share a couple hours of one on one time, catching up on all the events of our lives during the past year, the good, the bad and the ugly.  It always goes by way too fast, and when we part, it is bitter sweet because I know I will probably not see her until the following year.  I am so grateful, though, for this tradition and our friendship.

Big Bear Fun

a walk with the dogs

christmas tree in big bear village 

snow!!

come in the waters fine!

BBQ maestro

 Big Bear Fun

It has been our family tradition for many years now to take a little vacation in Big Bear the weekend before Thanksgiving .  The chilly mountain air puts me in the holiday mood more than our normal 80 degree weather here in Escondido.  We rent a pet friendly cabin and load our Suburban with dogs, birds, kids, firewood, ice chest, and bags of food and drink.  No matter how hard I try to pack lightly, there is barely room left over for the kids.  They are squeezed in among grocery bags and bird cages.  The poor dogs have a small space in the back carved out for them amid the suitcases and ice chest.  Invariably, once we start driving the curvy mountain roads, suitcases slide around, crowding the dogs even more.  Our nervous, claustrophobic Golden Retriever requires Dramamine for the ride!

I always travel the back roads because it has less traffic and is more scenic.  This route takes us through Yukaipa, a cute little town in the hills, about an hour before Big Bear.  We always stop there to let the dogs out and stretch our legs.  Leaving Yukaipa, the road climbs along a river with red and gold leafed trees on the hillside.  Once in the mountains, we glimpsed little patches of snow here and there and a heavy fog covering the valleys like a beautiful white blanket. 

We arrived just before dark, quickly unloaded the car (it was cold!) and built a roaring fire in the cabin’s fireplace.  I encouraged my daughters to brave the icy mountain air and take advantage of the Jacuzzi on the back deck.  I waved and smiled at them from the warmth of the fireplace with my glass of wine.

We pretended it was Thanksgiving that weekend and the aroma from the roasting turkey filled the cabin while we made gratitude wreaths.  Each person wrote eight things they were grateful for on strips of colored paper and these were looped and taped together in a decorative wreath for our table.  We built a fire and watched the snow begin to fall outside the window.  It snowed all afternoon and into the night.  We pulled the dining table in front of the fireplace for a cozy dinner.  Later that night, after everyone had fallen asleep, I was treated to the sight of a winter wonderland.  The moon and stars shone from a clear, black sky onto the pristine snow covering the yard.  The tall, majestic pine trees appeared to be covered with fluffy white frosting.  It was so beautiful it took my breath away and I wanted to share it with someone.  So I shook my slumbering son awake and marched him to the open door commanding him to view this splendor.  He looked at me, bleary eyed, mumbled, “yeah, great”, and shuffled back to the sofa.

The next day we went to Snow Summit.  The kids snow boarded and I skied.  This was the second time I had skied in over 30 years so I was very cautious.  I know I looked ridiculous as I snow plowed ever so stiffly and slowly down the bunny hill but at the end of the day I was a lot faster and more confident.  I decided to ride the ski lift with my son to the top of the mountain.  It was a really long ride up and I started to worry what I had gotten myself into.  As soon as I got off the lift, I knew I was in trouble.  The slopes were a lot steeper than my capabilities and my son quickly left me in the dust as he snowboarded skillfully past me.  I was dressed for the cold mountain air but it was a warm, sunny day and I was starting to sweat uncomfortably in my faux fur coat. Beads of moisture collected under my fashionable fur headband, threatening to drip into my eyes.  The view sure was pretty though.  The sun was shining on the freshly fallen snow and you could see the sparkling blue water of Big Bear Lake down below.  I took my time, curling my feet in to snowplow and stopping to rest when my legs started to tire.  I stopped at the top of the last slope which hadn’t seemed so steep from the ski lift but now looked menacing and unmanageable.  A man skied up to me and said, “I would like to politely compliment you on your attire.”  I laughed and said, “And on my skiing ability too, no doubt!”    hahahaha  I watched jealously as he and countless others wound their way down the steep slope before me with skill and ease.  It was truly unfair how easy they made it look while I stood there hopelessly. 

The sun had disappeared behind the hill and now I was getting cold and tired.  Realizing I was out of my league, I gave up.  I took off my skis and did the walk of shame, trudging down the hill, lugging my skis and poles. I heard people snickering from the ski lift.  I told myself not to worry because nobody here knew me and why should  I care anyway.  I fought the urge to yell, “Stop looking at me”!

 Oh well.  At least I was fashionably dressed.