Tag Archives: images of parties

In Praise of the Party Mexicano!!!

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I simply have to say a few words of praise about the ability of my Mexican friends and neighbors to party!  I’m accustomed to hearing the parties going on around me every weekend, sometimes until 6 a.m., but for the first time I had a party that wasn’t comprised entirely of older (my age) American and Canadian and Mexican guests, who usually depart politely by 9 or earlier if the party started earlier.

My party for those who helped with Campamento Estrella, however, consisted of an even number of “mature” gringos and young Mexican adults ready to PARTY!  After making two gallons of frozen margaritas, I for fun put two full bottles of tequila and shot glasses on each of the long tables I’d shoved together for the party to create one looooong table.  Perhaps someone would like a shot or to add a little strength to my somewhat weak margaritas.

At that time, I thought there would be 20 of us, but stomach flu and dengue fever and other illnesses depleted the number by half so we had LOTS to eat, luckily, which seemed to lessen the effect of two gallons of margaritas and the entire contents of the two bottles of tequila on the tables that disappeared during the 4 1/2 hours of the party.

Yes, we did shots.  Yes, when we lost the shot glasses, we ended up pouring the tequila into our mouths from 6 inches or so above our baby bird mouths, the crowd chanting “Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy!’ or whatever name was appropriate. Yes, we all wound up in the pool–at least Agustin, I and the “kids” did––still waterfalling tequila.  By then we’d gone through the good stuff and were down to the smokier reposado which is the scotch of tequila and not my thing.

Needless to say, even after sending food home with Yolanda and two of the Anglo guests who had to depart before the final course, (We’d had so many flautas and so much guacamole with before dinner drinks that everyone had to rest up a few hours before dinner.) I still have an entire huge pan of enchiladas, a quart of beans and an entire flan and salad left over so what’s a girl to do?  This afternoon I’m having three friends over for Mexican Train and enchiladas with all the trimmings.  One of the ladies asked if she should bring wine.  “No!”  (I still have ten bottles I bought for the party, passed over in lieu of tequila.)  Another asked could she bring any food.  “No!!”  I still have three dozen enchiladas, guacamole, salad, frijoles refritos, salsa and flan. No one gets into this house bringing more food or liquid refreshment. No one gets out until the food, at least, is all gone.

So here it is folks, my photo essay in PRAISE of the Mexican talent for PARTY.  Not so many photos as I was pretty busy making up more frozen margaritas and well, yeah–finding extra swimsuits for 7 people and dodging tequila shots.  And no, not a headache nor any hangover this morning.  I suggest Hornitos as a really good brand of tequila. The bottles went out with the morning trash, but here is a photo of the cap I saved for my scrapbook wall:

Here are a few shots of the enthusiastic guests.  No doubt they’ve already posted videos of the party on their Facebook pages, but I’m going to make do with these shots frozen in time:

(If you’d like to view them in a larger size and read captions, click on the first photo and arrows.)

The margaritas and flautas were a big hit as we sat outside, but once we moved inside to the big table
and the partiers spied the bottles of tequila on the table, Los Hornitos ruled the day. (The bottle may have gone out in the trash, but I got a photo that didn’t so here is the bottle of tequila I recommend! Hornitos. Not harsh going down. Not harsh the morning after.)
One little taste,
created great enthusiasm among the senoritas.
quickly followed by Cookie and Maria
and Audrey.
Agustin was driving, so he stuck to wine.
i brought him a plastic glass for his wine shortly after this photo was taken.
and the badminton racquets.
Afterwards, food again.
Pool

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Partying 50’s and 60’s Style

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When I was in the eighth grade, I had a party for 8th and 7th graders in our big unfinished basement. We must have borrowed the chairs and screens from the Methodist church, as I recognize the ugly screens in these photos. I wonder what we were hiding behind them? Possibly water pumps used to pump water out of the basement during a snow melt the winter before, although I doubt that was a problem as a year later, I spent the summer tiling and painting this basement. I remember my dad having to jack up the house a bit as he increased the height of the foundations when the ground settled one year, so perhaps this was going on at that time.

At any rate, my party was held before the gentrification of our basement took place, and it was a big deal. All the boys’ mothers were calling to see if it would be chaperoned and there were big discussions about whether it was appropriate to have a girl/boy party. The coach demanded that all the boys had to leave by 10 o’clock as they were in training for basketball and had a curfew. It was the only boy/girl party anyone ever had the whole time I was in junior high and high school, other than school parties where we played games but didn’t dance much.

The 7th and 8th grades were in the same room with the same teacher, who was also the grade school principal and the junior high basketball coach. (That’s his picture sitting in the stands at a district tournament with Jeff Sanderson sitting behind him.) While he taught one grade, the other one had study time and vice versa–– all in one big room. It was interesting to hear your entire 8th grade curriculum while you were in the 7th grade, so by the next year it sort of felt like a rerun, or deja vu.

I’m dancing with Alan Rada in most of these photos. He was a year younger than me and seemed to know what he was doing on the dance floor. I am wearing a different dress in the photos of the earlier part of the evening not because I was a fashionista with too wide a choice to limit myself to one garment per evening, but because I split out the underarm of my first dress when I was spun by an overzealous partner during a jitterbug. In fact, I think the girls were teaching most of the guys to dance at this party.

The two older somewhat sinister looking girls are my sister and her friend Dianne, who were recruited to chaperone, I guess. Since my sister Patti, on the left, was the one who taught me to dance, perhaps she was there to see that we were teaching the boys to dance correctly.

The boy with the crew cut wearing glasses is my across the street neighbor Billy Sorenson.  The little guy who looks like he is about to slap Henrietta Oldenkamp on the butt is Keith Weigandt. Don’t you love all the girls in party dresses, bobby sox and white tennis shoes? We were soooooo cool. (Well, they were.  I wore nylons and one inch heels.How ordinary of me.) This must have been 1959 or 60.

(When I took my doll collection out of my room, my mother decided to put it out in the hall.  Guess which one of us never grew up?  She must have taken this photo of me before the guests arrived because this is the dress that ripped out under the arm during a too-ambitious dance move.)