I knew I was gambling, but I decided to bet that Lovey would not open this closet before his birthday.  Knowing I wouldn’t have time to blow up twenty balloons on The Day, I did it three days ahead of time and managed to keep my prep work a secret!

A little tip for those who, like me, become a slobbering, light-headed mess when attempting to inflate balloons with lung power: use a little air pump instead.  I used the foot-pump that came with my Pilates ball.  I had to wrap the balloon “stem” around the nozzle and hold it tightly closed to force air into the balloon, but once I figured out that part the inflation process was much less of an ordeal than it could have been!  Bonus: I talked on the phone with my sister the whole time.

When The Day arrived, I looped a piece of twine over each of the hooks that holds the daybed canopy in place.  I used clothespins to clip ten balloons to each piece of twine, which then looped over another hook on the opposite side of the room.

When I was finished I had two lines of randomly-spaced balloons stretching across the living room.  Lovey is tall and his friends are tall enough, so I made sure to leave the walkways and the standing-area in front of the couches reasonably balloon-free.  I didn’t want irritated men swatting down my handiwork.

Then I thought, “What about twinkle lights?”  So I ran to the Christmas decor box and grabbed a strand of lights to frame the dining room wall.  Yep, it was starting to look like a party.

And it only got better.  Acknowledging my limitations–nay, embracing them–I decided this party would be better catered.  I didn’t want to exhaust myself cooking for a crowd, or worrying about what could go wrong, or making people wait on me to get everything ready.  The perfect solution, Lovey and I agreed, was to order gyros.

We were not wrong.  (Just look at the expression on our friend Adam’s face!)  Everyone enjoyed the food, which, as I mentioned in this post, stands up well to its competition.  We also had a quinoa-and-pomegranate salad, which I just realized I never photographed.  Oh, well.  Here’s a link.  I used curly parsley and substituted quinoa for coucous.

Here are the girlies–no cute shots of the guys, because guys don’t do cute shots.  Besides, they were busy talking politics.  (Blech.)

And while balloons and twinkle lights do pave the way to Party City, you haven’t arrived until you’ve crossed the candle bridge.  The way Lovey attacked the little flames led to lots of jokes about getting older and not being able to breathe, but he did get them all extinguished.  Then we ate carrot cake.  Lots and lots of carrot cake.  Lovey’s one (adorable) request was that his birthday dessert be “something with cream cheese frosting.”  He didn’t care what was under the frosting, as long as it wasn’t pumpkin.

By the end of the night we all had full tummies, drooping eyelids, and aching sides.  (“That’s like 26 miles an hour!”; “get yo’ ass inside!”; and “Oh, I’ve done that” were the big laughs of the evening, for those who were there and care to recall why those things seemed so funny in context.)

Here’s wishing Lovey a new year full of adventure and accomplishment.  I can’t wait to see where this year takes him!