Friday night was my friend Val's bachelorette party. There was dinner at Julia's on Capitol Hill to start, then dancing at Neighbors, a popular gay dance club. Which is the best place for a group of 10 inebriated ladies to go dancing. Less pressure. No one was interested in us (except for some weirdo who seemed to be interested in anyone who would make eye contact with him). I shook my groove thing for a little while, then I'd sit and watch the gals, then maybe dance a little more. I remember how my knees hurt last year after going out with Rachelle and Val, and I knew I had a big party to host on Saturday night, so I took it easy.
Got home late, stayed up even later, crashed around 2am.
Todd and I were up early on Saturday to shop for the party. Ran around til about 2pm, picked up a little around the house, then actually had some downtime before the deluge of people arrived around 7pm.
Lots o' photos here.
Now, if you've ever been to a party that I've hosted or co-hosted, you know that I appear stressed. I'm really not. I just tend to get a little overwhelmed in the beginning when everyone is arriving faster than I can greet/meet them. At one point, I had my hands full of coats, frantically trying to figure out how to fit them in the closet, when the doorbell rang. Meaning more coats to try and hang. A couple of my friends had been watching me and when the doorbell rang, one asked, "Howya doin' there, Raechelle?"
But once the initial rush of guests is finished, I mingle like a mad woman. As does Todd. In looking back at our photos from the night (thank you, Kayleigh, our budding photographer) I noticed there isn't one picture of me and Todd together. Huh.
Anyway, I met a lot of new people, saw a lot of old friends and actually remembered to eat something in the midst so I wasn't completely out of it come midnight.
And what's a nice byproduct of parties?
Holy crap, anyone wanna come over for a drink?