Last night, The Wife and I went to a party in Beverly Hills. It was thrown by an old friend of mine; she and I went to high school, college, and law school together. She and her husband now have a beautiful canyon bungalow home, apparently once owned by Howard Hughes. “Bungalow” is a relative term in Los Angeles; in this case that means a house in which a married couple and two young boys are just starting to feel the edges of the house.
The Wife had more to drink than I can ever remember. She is a silly drunk, which is a lot of fun at a party. In her defense, she was the victim of a very charming gay man from Palm Springs (big shock) who kept on plying her with kamakazies and making all sorts of racy jokes. “The last gym I was in moved to Paris!” (I can’t even imagine how many times he’s used that joke, but I bet it’s one that gets funnier every time.) Random quasi-celebrity encounter at the party: Michael Jackson’s ex-wife. Yes, the ex-wife of that Michael Jackson. She lives about five miles from us in Palmdale.
The house was recently re-done for a show on HGTV, a show which The Wife watches regularly. One of the designers was at the party also, but strangely, I spoke with her and her husband more than The Wife did. There were some lawyers, some designers, an editor from the Los Angeles Fish Wrapper, a guy who keeps a bomb dog, and one of my former law partners.
Although the bulk of the people at the party were quite well-off, there was remarkably little pretension there. Our friends who hosted the party were particularly down-to-earth. My only complaint about the party was that we had to drive an hour there and back, so we didn’t make it home until 1:30 this morning.
We are hopeful that our friends, who frequently come to visit family up here in the Antelope Valley, will come to visit us in our house in the near future. It’s been too long and it’s such a great pleasure to have old friends around. So here’s hoping that we’ll be sharing wine and good times soon.
