The 13-Month Day

My friends and I celebrated my birthday last night. My birthday was a month (and a day) ago, and in recent years I've been letting the day slip by. I celebrate with family and friends who live nearby, and usually sort of let it go because it's smack between Christmas and New Year's, many people are away, everyone's busy, and it just seems like a bother to ask people to cut into their schedules.

So, typically, I go to a movie with my family, we go out to a nice dinner, I see a show - I enjoy it privately.

This year I felt different. My friends are all so varied and cool, that I wanted a chance to get them in the same room together - and plus, for the first time in a long while, I really did want to celebrate my day. I don't know why - maybe it's because for the first time, this year, I feel like I'm in a different, truly adult, stage of life, and over this past year, my friends have become important to my life in a way previously only my family had been.

Plus, Christy kept calling and IM'ming.

"ANNELLLLI!!! When's your parttyyyyyy!?!?!?!"

"Oh, I don't know, we'll do it whenever."

"We're not letting it go, Anelli!!!"

Cheryl kept reminding me, too, and so did Meg. People wanted to party! Excellent. So, on two days notice, I emailed people to see if they'd like to come for dinner. With the RSVPs I got I figured we were eight or 10 people, max; I went conservatively, figuring that was how things go, and made a reservation for eight (forgetting to count myself, natch) at a pretty little slice of Smith Street called Pane e Vino, where Jill had her birthday earlier this year.

I wasn't the first to arrive; Rebecca and Anthony were already seated and chatting at the large, hollowed square of a table the restaurant had reserved for us. Phone calls flew; who was late, who was parking, who got off at the wrong exit, etc. I figured I made a good call on the reservations, and settled in for a nice intimate evening.

It's a good thing the table was big. All of a sudden, boyfriends came; people who cancelled, uncancelled; I started doing finger counts, and hence every few minutes ran over to a waiter to ask for "one more," "just two more," "one more chair and that'll do it!" All in all we were about 15, and when we had gotten squished in properly, I sat back and scanned the table and realized that these people comprised an excellent cross-section of my life and loves, and having all of them together made sense. Much to my relief, conversations jumped sides of the table. I saw Cheryl leaning over to talk to Christy and Colin; my sister, Stephanie, spent time chatting with Seth and Sonia; Seth and Sonia traded cat stories (and many hilarious cell phone pictures) with Anthony; Rebecca, Meg, Cheryl and Devin seemed to be perfectly content to swap (what I'm sure were) reading-and-writing-related stories all night.

Over bruschetta, a kind of red wine I don't feel gauche calling 'yummy,' bleu chese salad and a tiramisu that rivals my Aunt Rosetta's (that's damn near blasphemy), we enjoyed each other. And the best part was, I got to learn about my friends. It had been weeks since I'd seen some of them and the catch-up felt like a relief. I learned that Sonia has been promoted to series producer of DALLAS S.W.A.T; that it took Jill several hours to get back to her NY Sun office from the State of the City address (which I found funny because she used to cover health at the Staten Island Advance, and now has become a bigshot political reporter in Manhattan - so, of course, the big city political event of the year happens on Staten Island); that Seth spent four years after high school doing odd jobs and rocking in a band, complete with long hair; that Christy is working toward a promotion and career move; that Colin either knew that Hamilton Ave. was not Ft. Hamilton Parkway or was really good at faking it; exactly what Rebecca would say to me if she saw me writing this today; that Anthony's cat could double as a piece of luggage; that Meg is yearning for one of our old writing weekends as much as I am; that Cheryl was a groupie (haha, not really); that Devin looks happier every time I see him, and that, much to my great joy, my decision to switch career tracks and obey my heart affected my sister's. I had no idea.

A great night. Thank you.

PS. I also ate raw tuna. Go me.

PPS. I'm going, Rebecca. It's going well today.