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I'll start with the sad news: the landlords are selling The House. Cliff
and Jeff have to be out by June 30th so they can start fixing it up. This
house is a custom-built beauty, large open spaces and gentle arches and a
patio and backyard that make it look like a Spanish villa. It will sell
for half a million once it's fixed up, at least; no one we know will be
able to afford it. I couldn't leave the party after hearing that. I didn't come home until 5pm today. This was the best May Day party out of the three I've been to at the House, and certainly in competition for the best House party ever. I think the critical factor was Jeff and the fact that he invited all his cool musician/drummer/dancer friends. Not that we aren't cool, but when people from the "old" group (I use these terms so loosely, please remember that) started trickling out around 6pm, a whole brand-spanking new group flowed in. When I had arrived at 4pm, I was the only one in costume of any sort (a kelly green top that was fastened by lacing down the front, sleeves with ruffles at the ends, made out of a silk sari shot through with copper thread, a somewhat matching skirt, green with silver scarf and a crocheted cap); Yvonne showed up and hour later in full fairy garb (and no one really blinked an eye, other than to exclaim how cool her costume was). But the new group had girls and women bedecked in long swirly skirt and scarfs, the men in simple tunic shirts with embroidery, and baggy patterned pants. Those who didn't dance had a drum or an Oud or another middle eastern instrument, and we even had a woman sight-singing arabic lyrics - written IN Arabic writing. They were a colorful, talented, joyous group, and I think they breathed extra life into the "second shift" of the party. Three of the younger women there had a magic that seemed almost nymph-like to me. They were very outgoing and friendly, but they had an undeniable connection with one another, and they spoke to each other in lilting giggles and murmured references, drawing together intensely for a few minutes before breaking out in peals of mirth, drifting down out of the garden like flower-fairies in their long skirts. Amber had lined eyes and hair that fell in three braids in a high ponytail down to her waist; she was consumed by happiness, and she embraced me immediately and told me how nice I looked and told me she knew I danced. Gina had long, thick, ginger colored dreads and a crinkled smile (but smooth skin); she was more down to earth, and her movements were more solid and sure, even as she floated. The other looked like a Spanish princess, with a smooth olive midrift showing above a skirt coverd by a silver belt of bells. Her long dark hair was loose and thick down her back, and I could only glimpse at her high cheekbones and dark lashes and she turned to giggle with her sisters. (If you can't tell, I was quite taken by these sprites.) So often girls are catty, but I was warmly welcomed by these three. At the end of the night I got good hugs from all of them, and Amber told me to get her number from Jeff and come hang out with them. She said it several times, between hugs and thanking me for dancing with them; I was so warmed by this, this unquestioning acceptance and sisterhood; it gives me hope for women. We danced the May Pole extremely well this year - Jeff was playing a xylophone-type instrument with a gentle mellow melody. We didn't skip so much as flow in and out around each other, everyone happy and smiling, bestowing an occasional kiss on a passing cheek as our ribbons would us near to one another, drawing closer to the pole. It was almost a perfect weave, I kid you not, and we kept coming up to it and patting it in wonder, running our fingers over the brightly colored crosses of gross-grain ribbon. I've never seen such a well-wrapped pole. As it got darker, later and colder, we gathered around a Beltane fire nee barbeque pit. Earlier groups of drummers, oud and other stringed instruments had serenaded us, but by this point there were only a handfull of us left. Jeff's friend, Wolf, sat across from us at the fire, and he looked so elven! He was out of the Lothlorien in Lord of the Rings, I swaer: tall and blond, with angular good looks and long fingers that picked out a wandering melody on an elongated stringed instrument that Jeff swears dates from 1800 BC (the design, not that particular instrument). I found out later that he doesn't play learned songs, but improvises everything he does (and it was lovely!). He had on a neat woven tunic and a dark cape embroidered around the edges in suitably mysterious scrolling shapes, and it was all topped off by a neat little round cap, also elaborately embroidered. The fire played on the angles of his face, and I believed he was not human but elvin, oh yes. It was an enchanting little moment. I didn't want the party to end, and we gathered in the living room where we tried to stay up . . . I ended up crashing at the House, getting up this morning and hanging out all day long. I helped a bit with the cleanup, took a walk down the hill for a latte with Jeff, came back and hung out in the backyard by myself, alternately basking in the sun/shade (only dappled sunlight for pale skin), writing, or doing yoga on the picnic table. I'm gonna miss that place; I can't believe that soon I won't know the owners, won't be coming to parties there, won't be hanging out there with my friends . . . . Ohh, but I'm too happy to be sad right now. I'm clinging to this happy (but not *too* hard). Instead I will dwell on the upcoming "House-Cooling" party, which may very well be a weekend long bash with camping and dancing and debauchery and lots and lots of drinking to finally clear out the "party leftovers" liquor cabinet that puts most bars to shame . . . :-) | ||
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