My beloved turned forty yesterday. We celebrated with a party on Saturday night with about fifty of our closest friends. What fun the evening was. I'm only up for this every four years or so (So I don't expect I'll be throwing a party next year for my own fortieth, unless it's off site. And someone else cooks.), but we had a wonderful time.

We had dinner parties and bigger bashes all the time in our condo in California, and it's different here. Not a regular thing. Parts of it I miss. The dinner parties especially. A couple of couples sharing simple homemade food and a lot of wine. We tend to go out a lot here, and while I love going out (don't get me wrong!), I'd like to shift us back to cooking and staying in to socialize.

The first time we had a party here was also for Neel's birthday. It was our second winter in the little gray house, and that night our house really sparkled. Neel remarked that it felt like the house accepted and welcomed us that night. It had clearly been suspicious of us for a while. Withholding judgment. Prior to us it had been a rental and run through a series of short-term owners. I don't blame it for taking it's time. Here's the living room, expectant and waiting.

Here's the dining room, filled with laughter and life.

There were air hockey games.

And a chocolate fountain. We ran out of food and nearly ran out of wine.

Tyler made me a pre-party drink, and that saw me through.

His specialty, Planter's Punch.

It was cold, so no one went outside.

We ended the evening over some Scotch, and everyone started clearing out just before midnight. It was just the three of us then, Callum had come home from a neighbors, and we spent a little time talking about the evening and starting the clean-up.

We stayed up long enough to mark it though. Right before bed, a birthday kiss for a fine man. I think it's only going to get better from here.