Brooklyn Weekend

I visited the old homestead today and was shocked to see how it has already been transformed in just 3 weeks. Yes, you can tell a guy is living there now. I was surprised, since my decorating style is fairly simple (no fussy frills for me) and I don't think of this style as stereotypically feminine. I tried not to freak out about anything -- and I can't help thinking this is exactly what I need to help purge the ghost of Z from the place.

In the evening, I went to an unfamiliar section of Park Slope for my friends' house-roasting party. I had typed in their address into hopstop and printed out the directions. I was dressed up a little (but not too much) had my bottle of wine and a small housewarming gift, and got to the neighborhood without any undue delays. I had mentally transposed the first two digits of their street address, so I inadvertently overshot it by several blocks, but it was a great night to be out and about, so I didn't mind walking back. The trouble came when I got to the right address. Their apartment is #1, but there was only one doorbell. Seems odd, but I rang it anyway. A graybearded gentleman answered the door. He was not my friends. He had never heard of them. No, there weren't any apartments in his house. I apologized and walked slowly away. A few doors down, I thought I might try a particular building with a similar address and four doorbells, but the doorbells had no names, so I didn't want to risk it.

And of course I had left my cellphone at home because I wanted to travel light. Don't know their number off the top of my head. And I only had the incorrect address I had personally typed, not their invitation.

So I was pretty discouraged, but I could see nothing for it but to go home. I hoped that I'd run into someone I knew on the way to the subway. I did not. Instead, the heel of my shoe broke.

The story has a happy ending in that I returned home, had some dinner and a small nap to regroup, changed into sneakers and jettisoned the earrings, and set forth again with the correct address.

My friends have found a great apartment, with a garden/backyard and a music studio. The party was really fun - we sat around a campfire in the back yard, chatting and roasting marshmallows. Then folks went inside and our musicians grabbed a guitar, keyboard and ukulele for a rousing sing-along of the Violent Femmes' "Blister in the Sun" .

Later, James and Lauren started singing "Wonderwall" and "Save Tonight" simultaneously. That worked really well. I love that they can hear it in those songs. I wanted to sing both songs at the same time, but instead I took turns following James (Wonderwall) or Lauren (Save Tonight).

Ah, bliss.