Peering out from under the weather....

Cold, flu, creeping crud -- whatever you want to call it, I have got it. Bad. Which is a major bummer as the SPI weather - even when you are under it - is so very lovely right now. And my favorite sandguy Kirk is here and I had all these great ideas for how we could spend some magical time together and right now all I want to do is lay around be waited upon. As luck would have it, he’s pretty good at that and if I feel better tomorrow I will credit the restorative powers of his ministrations and the Thai coconut milk/ginger/lemongrass soup fixed specially for me by those really nice folks over at Zeste....

Anyway, I have lots of thanks to give that have nothing to do with my health and everything to do with the great party here at the Sandbox Inn Sunday night. (If you missed it don’t blame me because everyone who reads this blog and a whole bunch who don’t was/were invited!) First the Bongodogs put on a tremendous show in the sandbox -- there was dancing and a real conga line and tons of great food courtesy of Chefette Nannett (aka Nancy Marsden) and other contributors. And then some of my good friends from near and far helped me kick off my (still-ongoing) 50th birthday celebration by entertaining me with songs, poems and exploding pickles. And then we gathered around a ceremonial fire to say our final goodbyes to sandman Joe Maize. And by the end of the night, pretty much everyone agreed that as parties go, this was right up there as one of the best. Ever.

So thanks so much for the baklava and the bourbon/chocolate/pecan thing and the sandcastle birthday cake and the shell bracelet and the seabean necklace and the bundle of sage and the leather pocket and the lace mantilla and the original poem and the recited ones too and the glowing pickle and the music music music and all the friends who helped make it my best birthday party ever.