A Tale of Two Parties

                This last weekend, I enjoyed my evenings with friends from two very different part of my life at two very different parties.  The common factor between both (which is really a common factor to all events in St. Louis) was alcohol.  The other common factor was that both parties were celebrating new beginnings.

                Saturday, I went to a colleague’s home for a baby shower.  Thankfully, it was a couples’ baby shower, so while there was a lot of talk about fussy babies and sleepless nights, there were not any pregnancy horror stories.  It was a delightful evening with friends.  We oohed and ahhed over my friend’s newly renovated home almost as much as we did over the baby gifts; since the happy couple is having a girl, there were plenty of pink ruffle filled opportunities for cooing.  The house was fabulous; there was a small porch off of the living room for warm evenings with a book and lemonade.  The kitchen was made over with walnut cabinets and granite counter tops; the look was contemporary but fit well into traditional atmosphere of the house.

                Sunday, I went to a different friend’s new apartment for what I will describe as a housewarming party, but which he characterized as “an excuse to get the last box unpacked” party.  He just moved into a fabulous loft in on Washington.  In size, it reminded me disturbingly of my old apartment in Anchorage, but that is where the resemblance ended.  The building was open and airy with wood floors throughout, high ceilings and exposed beams.  Dinner was jambalaya and chorizo bean soup – both made from scratch. 

The company was great, with music, beer-fueled arm wrestling contests, and salsa dancing.  Figuring out the music was a trip.  The crowd was a Salsa loving group, but my friend didn’t have any Salsa music.  We ended up spinning across the floor to the tinny emanations of an IPhone.  I danced with every guy at the party, which was sweet.  However, I have to say that I have a long way to go to be comfortable dancing in a small space- I kept getting distracted thinking I would run into a wall.

When the party broke- or perhaps I should say “transitioned”- from the apartment to the Atomic Cowboy- I made good my exit.  I don’t know how late they stayed out, but I am pretty sure I was already up well past my bedtime.

All in all, a good weekend.  I hope I can finagle some more of that jambalaya someday – it was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.