Last night I'd planned to briefly stop by a friend's house party. I haven't seen Angela or Stacey in years! Angela was co-hosting a "Mardi Gras Mitzvah". As Justin and I rounded the Lemon St. walkway and onto the front porch, a guy climbing through the darkened front bedroom window, stopped midway, turned to us and with assurance called out, "Don't worry! I'm one of the guests. I'm not trying to break in!" Yah yah. That's what they always say. Next thing you know your mother's pearls are missing.
Juxtaposed the front door sat a table, cash box, and Stacey! She started to welcome us and when she realized it was me whispered, "Nooo way!" We threw our arms around each other and squealed like gradeschoolers. It was great seeing both of them again!
Out back was a huge stage, tikki bar, and converted garage/dance floor. The band was setting up and profanity was flying.
I believe Angela was one of the soul decorators: the place looked hot. Tucked away in a dark corner of the side yard was an old rusted van alive with glowing red lights and all the psychic trimmings- a gypsy's dream. Pillows of every shape and color, swathes of material draped over the front and back seats, strands of silkiness dripping from the windows laced with rows and rows of plastic beads and coins... a table sat centerfold, a candle flickering on top... Madame Vultervonius? (a.k.a. Melody) was ready to serve: a Zen card master. Justin, then I, stepped inside and 10 minutes turned into an hour.
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