My birthday was coming up in October, and since no one was going to throw me a party, I decided to throw one for myself.
I planned to invite virtually everyone I knew in Rockport: the friends I’d made in the Master Gardener program, some ladies I met in a kayaking group I’d joined, people from the Historical Homes Tour committee, and friends from my old Country Club neighborhood. Even a few art gallery owners I was still friendly with.
My sister Darlene was flying in from Seattle for the occasion, so that made it even better. I started making plans for the food and entertainment, and sent out the invitations.
The week before the event was a mad dash of cleaning my house, getting the back yard presentable, and cooking up a storm. Darlene is also a great cook, so I was really grateful to have her help. After she arrived, I made my famous brisket and she made her famous sweet buns to serve the brisket on.
She also wanted to make her go-to potato salad to serve with the brisket, but wouldn’t do it without a certain seasoning she always puts in her recipe. I didn’t have “Johnny’s Seasoning” in my pantry, and our local grocery store didn’t carry it either (in fact, I had never heard of it). Well, there was great wailing and gnashing of teeth in my house! She could not, would not, make her potato salad without Johnny’s Seasoning.
There was only one obvious thing to do. Darlene called her roommate in Seattle and had her overnight FedEx a jar of Johnny’s Seasoning to my house. Thus creating the most expensive batch of potato salad that’s ever been made. I don’t remember what else we made for that party, but I will always remember that potato salad.
Earlier in the year, I attended a backyard get-together where a saxophonist was playing lightly in the background, and it sounded so lovely. I asked him at that time what he charged for private parties. When he said, “$100, and I play for as long as you want. I just love to play,” I got a business card from him. I hired that guy to play for my party. He set up on my back patio deck and we enjoyed his light jazz all night long.
In addition to planning for the music and food, I set up strings of lights and up-lights underneath some of my large trees, to add some mood and festivity to the back yard. It looked so pretty.
By all accounts the party was a big success. A turnout of 40 to 50 people who came and went throughout the evening, great food, lots of laughter, wonderful music, and a cool, lovely evening. Darlene was a huge help and seemed to enjoy my friends. Rhoda, one of my pups, waddled up to me at one point licking a muzzle full of chocolate, and I realized she’d found a dropped brownie in the grass. So, she probably thought the party was a great success as well. Luckily, it wasn’t enough to poison her.
This was the first big party I’d thrown since I’d been on my own again, and it was a lot of work. But also, it was a group of friends I’d had to cultivate all on my own, from disparate sources. I showed myself I could do it again—I could start over. And that was good for me.
In addition to all these friends from various sources, a new friend showed up as well. I’d attended a happy hour at the Rockport Yacht Club the week before with my friend Patty, who I’d met through the Master Gardener program. At that happy hour, Patty introduced me to a single guy I’ll call Sam, who I chatted with off and on during the evening.
Before the happy hour was over with, Patty pushed me into inviting Sam to my party, even though I was quite uncomfortable with the idea—after all, we’d just met! But I reluctantly did it, in a cowardly hit-and-run move just as we were leaving. And he showed up! He actually knew several people at my party, as he was a long-time Rockport resident.
Sam and I hit it off that night. He was one of the last to leave, and as he lingered, we made plans to get together the following week, after Darlene flew back to Seattle. He was retired from a 28-year career in the military and was fascinating to talk to, having a breadth of experience in an area that was well outside my wheelhouse. We became an instant couple.
So this was something completely unforeseen. As a result of that party, a whole new chapter opened up for me in Rockport.
***
Up next: Chapter 13. A Harrowing Road Trip to My First Home Exchange
To catch up on the backstory of A Buzz Kill Named Harvey, read Art and Artifice: A Memoir—A Story of Love, Deception, and Healing on the Texas Gulf Coast
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