I’m back. And with a party to share.

I hold a wee soiree every summer around my birthday in August. I had planned a biggie, with a couple of great musicians I know & sometimes employ, yummy food, Capri was the theme, all aqua and Limoncello yellow…But with a decided party drought, Capri seemed out of reach. Long Beach maybe if you raked away the medical waste, Capri not so much. Read: No discressionary income. So I gave up my vision of live music but not the idea of a celebration.

How to humanely “downsize” an event?

The Guest list went from 120 to 25. Who did I really want to spend time with? Who would provide great conversation and witty asides? Who would those I love find interesting? Who the hell wants to drive out to the Southern California wine country where I live? Hubby and I had a guest list confab and we whittled it down mercilessly.

We asked several close friends to bring a little something. That does not mean I won’t make some yummy Capraise treats, but I can make way fewer and concentrate on chatting with my guests. I will still be wearing a saucy hostess apron to fool the guests who weren’t enlisted. I hesitate to use the word potluck, bringing to mind as it does, a dingy, paneled church basement and various Jell-O mold creations. But every friend has a specialty or a great restaurant in his or her neighborhood.

The are a few things one cannot “downsize”. This ain’t no funky reggae party, $5 at the door! This is a good point for any airline executive who finds my blogging amusing.

THE BAR. Sorry, I was on cap lock. The Bar. It has to be Ketal One; the Limoncello must be from Italy. Try to have something tasty and thematic for the sober and the driving. For heaven’s sake, have enough and get decent champagne. If you have a good man friend who is unable to order take out with aplomb, suggest a bottle of something frisky. Be sure to specify brand and size. “Jumbo” always works, especially for the Ketal and ensures left overs in Bloody Marys for the overnighters and boomerangs.

In an ask a man to bring a bottle aside; Hubby and I used to throw a large, rowdy 4th of July party. Asked a man to bring a bottle of rum. It was the Bacardi and Coke era for many of us. He brought blue ribbon generic. It said RUM on the blue and white label. At its presentation I was unable to shut my mouth. Hubby eventually elbowed me with sufficient force to bring be to my barely civil senses. I quickly thanked the guest and hid the bottle, thought we might use it to kill mosquito larva in any standing water. We proceeded with the Independence Day celebration. Well, I may have had a little too much tropical sangria that afternoon because (I know the Miss Stickler lecture will be long and scathing.) I picked up the RUM and started carrying it around. I started talking smack to the gentleman who brought it, other guests. I am not saying that I wasn’t witty. Just bad Form. Yes I know that now, oh fine, and then too, but at the time I was just so shocked that a person would bring booze I wouldn’t disinfect a wound with to someone’s party. It seemed wrong and as anyone who knows me will tell you, I am sometimes completely powerless to keep my mouth shut. Particularly if my Irish eyes are tippling.

Moral of this little melodrama: Always specify brand, don’t be a cheap ass and act like a lady or gentleman if you are the host. We all learned a valuable lesson that day. I will never again be so abjectly rude to a guest in my home. (I do feel I performed a public service though.) Guaranteed the gentleman (term used loosely) won’t bring substandard booze to a party again.

I get so distracted, back to Capri.

The last downsizing immune detail is music. Burn enough CD’s for 6 hours. Or program your Ipod so it is one less thing to worry about. I am all for vaguely theme music but not every song all night. Mix it with Aretha, Ray, Amy, Willy, Etta, Stevey Ray, Neil. I am a little disappointed with not being able to have live music but it doesn’t kill an evening. I have great hopes that our friends very talented wife and my amazing brother might deign to entertain our jolly little group. That is what it winds up being about. Sharing. Talent, food, cocktails…

That is how we cut our budget by two thirds. You can do this too. I will have pictures and party details next month. Not celebrating with people you love means the economy humpers win! Throw a Party!

Spring is here, daylight savings a faded, bitter memory. I am reveling in the beautiful Southern California ocean breeze as I stand at my kitchen window washing dishes. Suddenly the moment is shattered! “Mommy, Is there really an Easter bunny?”?My 5 year old Iris, head tilted, hand on hip, stands next to 8 year old Quentin. My palms start to sweat. How does a good mother answer? Am I a good mother? Do I tell them he only visits when they are asleep as another ruse to get them to bed on time? Do I somehow try to make a feeble connection to Jesus? Was I going to tell them the truth? Was I going to crush their fragile little psyches with the truth? Apparently.”I’m the Easter bunny.”? I said, drying my hands in preparation for the tragedy, my mind reeling with the mayhem that would undoubtedly ensue. Only to be followed by stratospheric therapy bills and their crushed spirits dragging though the remains of their shattered little lives. I knew their sweet brown eyes would fill with tears, the disappointment filling the room. I braced myself. I had killed the Easter Bunny.”See, I told you.”? Quentin says to Iris. She then screamed back, “I knew it wasn’t true too Quentin!”? ,and she ran, stomping up the stairs. Neither particularly fazed by the fact that their mother is the Easter bunny. They were more interested in who came up with the fake bunny notion first. When I latter spoke to Q about it he told me how an egg pooping rabbit never sounded particularly plausible to him. I nodded. I never thought so either. But I loved to hunt candy filled eggs and did so with great enthusiasm until I went away to college. (Thanks Mom!)My husband and I decided a long time ago which myths we were going to invest in. Leprechauns and Santa! That’s where the money is! It’s not that we don’t appreciate the kitsch factor of spring and Easter but how do you decorate without succumbing to the style numbing pastels and faux grass? French Country? Topiary bunnies, with or without the ability to poop eggs? I think not.That got me to thinking about My ideal spring party. (I am telling you, it’s always about me.)I was watching Nany McPhee, love love Emma Thompson and Colin Firth, and was completely transfixed by the amazing Technicolor wedding. Magenta stripes, lime green toile, lambs dyed to match! Lambs dyed to match!! Amazing, vulgar and ever so inspiring.By the way, my kids still color and hunt eggs. I will continue for as long as they still enjoy it. Hopefully until they leave for college. They are leaving for college, right?

So the evil result of the housing bust and the dimming economy is that few people threw parties this holiday season. We all got together with the usual suspects, with low key “Italian Night”, a post-Christmas wine tasting and a first birthday party for two pugs. (Don’t ask don’t tell, but the bitch’s dress cost more than mine!) Few people were in the market for a tricked out corpulent Christmas. The goose just didn’t put the weight on. Sigh. The people who pine for the return of Ronnie Regan didn’t even entertain this year. They of the conspicuous, though tasteful (at least during my watch) consumption did not frolic. The parties we went to were collaborative, intimate soirées.

All this negative press bodes ill for the luxury market. There will always be a place for quality for those of us who need a tactile toothieness to their stationary, flowers on the table and in the bathroom and a real fabric table cloth. But I am cognizant of the need for simplifying, of “greening” ones event. An overused buzzword but it can eliminate some of the stress of entertaining. I don’t just mean post-consumer product for the invite. How about repurposing a top sheet as table cloth? I think that is a great resolution. Try to do fabulous without becoming Diddy. Anyway, could crystal be any more over rated?

Here is my promise, 2008 as we move into the election year: We will find something to celebrate even if a Republican other than John McCain wins (I’m a Kucinich girl so my election is over, I don’t know who I am voting for in the primary). We will do so with out waste and without sacrificing style. My focus will be helping us all find a bit of fabulousness amid our fiscal woes! Happy New Year darlings!

I am soo behind! I have to clean up Halloween. I did not decorate until the 30th. I seem to be getting farther and farther behind. I must say in my defense, that I did manage a wee dinner party for 14 on the 31st. That was pretty, as my friend Christine allows, “ambitious”. I roasted two birds with giblets still in. I always get the nice free range organic ones at Trader Joes. They were out so I got the “vegetarian feed, Free range” ones. The organic ones, they put all the nastys in a bag that I promptly throw away. I thought I was going to barf. I had to dig them out with a spoon. Did you know that there are more than two? I‘m feeling creeped out just writing this. I am not much of a meat person as I get older. Not for some ethical or moral thing. It’s more about texture. But I love Foie Gras. Go figure. Feed the goose Chicago!

I digress. The featured cocktail was a Vampire Kiss martini. I floated plastic Dracula teeth in them for garnish. The menu was fairly simple, the two chickens, roasted with fennel, onions and carrots, fingerling potatoes (kind of creepy?) and Sautéed the green beans and that was it. Christine brought an improbably colored but damn tasty Mac and cheese and Mindy, a lovely salad with pears. As more than half my guest list was made up of children, I roasted another batch of legs for the kids so no one fights for the drumstick.

Pretty simple. So now Thanksgiving is breathing down my neck. I am not hosting, my cousins won’t drive to my house. But I am responsible for some part of the meal. Dessert usually. Sometimes appetizers. My grandma used to bake pies, my aunties too but now they are either dead or old, and it falls to the next generation. My cousin Traci and I are the only two who actually bake a bit. She more than I, but she, never pies. I am the last of the pie makers. Aunt Ruthanne would bake but she travels from out of state. Pies take a lot of time. A lot. I have retreated to the comfort of spice/pumpkin bundt cakes. I found a rather “ambitious” spice cake with coffee toffee or something. It looks really good.

I find that I, more and more, want to cook for the people I love. It used to stress me out. I plan way ahead. Planning and brainstorming are essential to effortless entertaining. I have readjusted the way I do things.

1. I never turn down help. NEVER! You know who among your friends can cook and follow directions. Make the other boneheads a cocktail.
2. I get ready half way through the prep so that I am ready for my guests no matter where we are on the meal train.
3. I do the table and any prep possible the day before so I am not freaking out with 1000 errands the day of.

Ain’t none of us wonder woman! That said, you don’t have to always do pizza for Halloween or buy a crappy pumpkin pie for Tgiving. (That is thanksgiving’s “Rap” name. We’re hard here at P-ink. That’s our rap name.)