It’s hard to believe, but we celebrated a milestone birthday for my oldest nephew today. Eric doesn’t officially turn 30 until Monday, but this was the day a few dozen of his friends and family gathered to send him off into the next decades. Suzanne and Tammy have been planning this for months, along with John and David, and it came off beautifully.

Not that there weren’t a few glitches, such as the sound guy showing up three hours late, and a leaky roof in the rented hall (along with no stage, as promised, for the band). But the kids were there, and Eric loves his nephews and niece. The food was excellent, as you’d expect when our family is in charge. The baseball theme was perfectly conceived and well executed. And everyone, from many generations, had a good time, particularly the guest of honor.

On the other hand, I didn’t have such a good day, and I nearly didn’t make it to the party. Well, that’s not quite true. There was no chance I wouldn’t go, because I was Mom’s transportation, and Suzanne had asked me to pick something up from her house, and— well, it’s Eric. I’ve known him longer than all but about three other people who were there.

Even though the directions were clear, I got lost no less than three times on my way to the hall. I missed a turn, and then I turned the wrong way, and then I got in the wrong lane, and after that I couldn’t find the parking lot. It was raining, and it was twilight, and I had a hard time reading street signs because the street lights weren’t lit yet. I wasn’t in my best party mood by the time I got there. I did what I could not to let it show, but I don’t know how successful I was.

I actually knew more people there than I expected to, and I managed to talk to most of the ones I did know. I spent a lot of time talking with old friends I hadn’t seen in years, and that was definitely a good thing. Eventually we had music, and the band was well worth waiting for (although it was almost eleven before they started playing, and I lasted through only three songs).

It was a good party, and Eric deserved it. I’m not a party person, though, and I was incredibly glad to get home. By Friday night, I’m usually pretty well spent for the week and ready to melt into the weekend. I feel very close to the point of total exhaustion. But still, I’m glad I made the effort to get out of my chair and out the door and down the road to this party. Don’t ask me to do it again for a while, though.