Sparky hit the big Five-Oh on Friday. And some of the friends he's known since he was a little kid (growing up in the projects no less) decided to throw him a par-tay. I was there, and have the blackmail pictures to prove it.
These would be some of the friends.
The gig got off to a slow start. As the guests started to arrive, they brought with them a myriad of complaints. "My stomach's bothering me - can I have a cup of tea?" "My back is killing me. I need Advil." "My head hurts - gimme some of that Advil." And so on. For a short while, I didn't think this party was going to be much more fun than when the therapy dogs visit the nursing-home. But I was, erm, rr . . . Rroo. . . . I can't say the word. I wasn't right. How's that?
Thanks to our lovely hostess, we had a wonderful meal. Not one but two kids of olives, and hearts of palm, and Gruyere cheese as appetizers. Followed by paella to die for, and homemade sangria, and a homemade birthday cake and Italian cookies and a fabulous fruit tart.
Unfortunately, the cake got a little out of hand, and fire extinguishers were needed to put out the flame-age.
Not really. But apparently Sparky was upset to see that many candles ablaze, so he summoned up the United States Marine training in him, and in a few seconds, made the cake wish it had surrendered. Cake POW camp would have been a far better fate.
The wonderful dog-in-residence regained control of the atmosphere by letting us know it was time to open the presents.
And there were many fine presents. Sparky's friends obviously think the world of him.
In fact, they decided to honor him most highly with The Presentation of The Tequila Worm. No, he didn't eat it. But he drank just a wee bit of the nectar.
Shortly after that, the dancing and rejoicing began. And lo, there was much rejoicing. So much so that, around midnight, the party establishment was visited by the local police, who had received a noise complaint in regards to the birthday tunes being played at an excessive level for that hour of the night. I, being out back, never even realized they'd come a'knocking at the door. But I heard later that one of the cops was so cute, several of the ladies at the party suggested turning the music volume back up later in order to get him back to the party.
In the end, the Advil and tea and paella and cake and tequila worked their magic, and the party turned out to be one to be remembered. When we're all in nursing homes and therapy dog day rolls around, we'll reminisce. "This is fun, but not as fun as that party we had for Sparky when he turned 50."
And hey, if you can still get the cops called to your party when you turn 50, that's funny. You're always as young as you feel, right?
Happy Belated Birthday, Sparky! Sounds like the party was a blast, but then, with our Shamrock in attendance, I wouldn't expect any less!
Thanks for posting, Shamrock. I was geared up to call you this evening to check in, what with all the weather y'all are havin' up yonder. Was getting worried!
Posted by: scorpy | Tuesday, October 18, 2005 at 07:56 AM