A friend commented that these last two weeks have been like something out of "Four Weddings and a Funeral".
I can't say that I remember the film very well, but I think what she meant to say was that despite the sadness of Jamie's funeral, there has been a lot of fun and joy too. Life and love is sweet. Laugh with the people you love.
For instance, there was Kim and Shawn's party! My friends have been married for ten years and they threw a marvellous anniversary party this weekend.
Note to self: it just isn't a party without tiki torches in the garden and a bubble-machine shaped like a red hippopotamus on the roof of the house!
There were barbeques loaded down with roasting corn and salmon. Loads of other food and drink. Heaps of relatives and friends milling around in conversation or relaxing under the shade of the heavily-laden pear tree--it felt like there was about forty people there, but people were arriving and leaving all day, visiting while they could.
Oh! it was a good party! Be proud of those party-organizing skills you have, my friends!
The decorative flags we'd made two nights before waved in the breeze most satisfactorily on the proceedings from the edges of Kim's backyard.
There was a tented pavilion hung with tapestries and layered in cushions where friends could sprawl, a jamming session with drums, live accordion music, amorous cavorting dogs, children dancing in the clouds of bubbles drifting over the lawn, and presents of course.
We held a bocce ball tournament in the park down the street--the guests who stayed in the back yard could hear our competitive whooping yells from where they were.
(There was also a wild scavenger hunt mid-morning to break the ice between the locals and the out-of-towners who had never met but I've decided it deserves a whole post of its own. It certainly got the blood racing as we dashed about town raising eye-brows as we went.)
It was one of those parties that starts in the morning with good-natured craziness and drifts lazily into late evening conversation. Someone deciding to say goodbye at ten o'clock would still be drawing out the farewell an hour later, having moved perhaps from the front porch to the back.