Party like it's the '70s

My youngest sister, nicknamed Yutha, turned 50 this past October. To start the celebrations off with a bang, she and I and our other sister Brink went to Vegas together.

Then Yutha and her hubby and daughter (who turned 16) went on a luxury cruise (penthouse suite with its own kitchen.)

Then her childhood friends threw her a party which included a roast beef dinner and pie, not cake, pie. (She's a pie girl.)

Then her husband decided to throw her a party, which took place last Saturday night (although technically one might say it also took place through to Sunday morning.) The party consisted of people from different parts of their life - ski club, work, neighbours, school etc. plus all the friends my sister has had since childhood - and mixed them all together like a big, alcohol-fueled slumgullion. The food was truly awesome like squeaky fresh shrimp so big we dubbed them "three biters" and sliders with blue cheese and caramelized onions. For those of you who don't know what sliders are, they're eensy beensy hamburgers. They seem to be the appetizer du jour. There were also duck brochettes, sweet potato pancakes, smoked salmon rolls, beef tenderloin slices, grilled cheese (with four cheeses!) and avocado sandwiches and more...oh, it was fantastic.

Altogether, I think there were about eight school friends of my sister's there, and of course I know most of them as well since for one year, all three of us sisters attended high school at the same time. There was a lot of old boyfriend talk and catching up.

I don't normally drink much if at all, but I get a teensy bit of social anxiety when there is a big cocktail party and I have to make small talk. I suck at small talk. I can do BIG talk. But small talk with complete strangers freaks me out. So I had a glass of champagne, or "Faery Fizz" as we called it. On an empty stomach. Then I had another. And maybe another one or two more. Hey, there was fruit in it and Cassis so it was like drinking a smoothy, right?

Then I discovered a lovely bottle of Glenmorangie Nectar D'Or aged in a Sauternes cask and I thought I'd just have a wee taste and ooolala, that proved to be my undoing.

We stayed up laughing and talking until 3 a.m. Then we had a breakfast at 8 a.m.

It wasn't pretty.

I saw this video today and had to share it. Welcome to 1973, my friends.

If you make it to the whistle solo without peeing your pants, I salute you.

Hint - it comes after the heavy metal yodeling, the strangulated high notes and seizure face, what sounds like alien chatter, and a flute solo.


thanks to Maggie for the link!

Happy Birthday Yutha! Hold back my invitation to the next party. I think another one might just kill me.