Party Central

Let's party before you poop out and need a nap

Tonight the home of the SJG transforms into Party Central.  Beer, wine.  Fried chicken made by someone else.  Pasta salad.  Other things.  And, of course, it goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway, Birthday Cake.  Someone in my family is turning 60.  Thank God it isn't me.  I'm not ready to be 60, not when on the maturity scale, I still feel 14.  By the time I turn 60, I'll be in my early 20s.  The someone turning 60 is my brother Peter, the North Carolinian, who decided he wanted to celebrate this important milestone here, as opposed to muggy, sticky there.  "Maybe you'll throw me a party," he said, a few months back.  Subtle, yet direct.  "Maybe I will," I said.  Well, there's no maybe about it.  The party is tonight.  Just family and a few close friends.  At the last count, we were up to 17.  "Stop inviting people," I told him, in my warm, sisterly way.  The SJG can only handle so many revelers at once.