We Are Party Pooped

Yes. I know you've seen enough pictures of my lit up house, but this was what it looked like last night for the party. Just ignore those multi-colored lights over there on the right that are intruding into the beauty of this monochromatic moment brought to you by Southern Living Magazine. My husband's trashy trailer display (brought to you by Redneck Living Magazine) only distracted party-goers from the twinkling wonder of the house long enough for them to grab a beer out of the trailer fridge. I would note, however, that the crowd below hung out a little bit longer than customary by the adult beverage trailer:



But if it makes you feel better, they were also the last ones to leave at almost midnight last night, so I'm sure any heightened blood alcohol levels resulting from their close proximity to the trailer had worn off by that time. I had forgotten that the last time these folks were at our house, they helped us catch the roosters, Pete and Repeat. So Cindy (in the Indiana University shirt) and Shane (number 40) were disappointed to learn that since the last time they were here, Pete and Repeat, whose main purpose in life had been to poop all over my porch, had been "lost" in a "storm." Anyway. Back to the party. Here are the Heathen Mothers:



They look sweet, don't they? Don't trust them. There's a reason they're called the Heathen Mothers. Constantly bucking the system, these three -- always wanting to add programs to the church that refuses to add programs; always offering their opinions whether solicited or not; continuing to persistently pray for the church to go in one direction or another. Our (mostly young) church staff is getting some quality training by having to think of nice, creative ways to tell these three "no." I'm pretty sure last night I overheard the HMs come up with a scheme to propose crazy stuff to the church staff, just so they can watch the guys squirm: "Hey Neal, I've really been praying about this and I'm sure God has given me this awesome idea -- wouldn't it be great if we had a ministry that painted rocks for guys who worked in gas stations? It would really spread the love of Jesus. What do you think?" Anyway. Back to the party.

No party is complete without at least one fire, and if my husband is involved, three or more. Last night, there was a small campfire out front by the trailer, a fire in the fireplace on the back porch, one hundred itsy bitsy fires in luminaries lining the driveway, and a bonfire in the back yard:



So I took a lot of pictures last night, but most of them came out blurry, which is a mystery because I was taking the pictures with my new camera. Huh. Weird -- apparently the old camera was fine and the problem was me. Whaddya know. But I do really like the new one. Unfortunately, it does not have a setting for making me look younger:



And that's Dr. Pepper in that cup, mom, I didn't go anywhere near the adult beverage trailer. Except for those couple of times when I had to show people where it was -- when you tell some people something vague like, "if you would like an adult beverage, help yourself to whatever's in that trailer over there with the blue rope light on the antenna and the green glow underneath" sometimes they say, "what? I don't see any trailer over there -- where did you say it was?" And then I had to show them the way over there and help them in the door 'cause those trailer steps can be tricky and then I had to open the bottle of wine for them and then they would say something like, "aren't you having any?" and then, me being such a good hostess, would say, "well I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable, so maybe I will have a little." But in that picture up there, that is definitely Dr. Pepper in that cup.