What a swell party this is ...

I went to a wonderful party last night, hosted by Sara, my friend and colleague in this, and full of interesting people hanging out in her beautiful backyard. There were many great things about the party, including the other members of Weird Sisters being there and all of us celebrating the completion of our trilogy of baseball films, PlayBall!; the broad blend of ages represented, from Sara's young daughters to her father; her father's incredible talent at the piano as he accompanied a couple of songbird guests in impromptu concerts (really -- it was like I fell into a 1930's film!); delicious food; lovely weather ... the list goes on.

I, however, added to the evening an unprecedented array of embarrassing moments. The most embarrassing moment was not when, in an attempt to swat at a bug that had started biting me, I inadvertenely flung the grilled turkey burger I had just selected onto the ground. The most embarrassing moment was not even when I seemingly drove Sara's father away from the piano as I suggested a Kurt Weil tune I know, apparently something he did not want to play. No, the most embarrassing moment of all is reserved for the end of the evening, when a young soldier who had been talking to me earlier in the evening about everything from his shooting skills and sports background to my voice over work, searched me out to say goodnight. "So, could I call you some time?" he asked. I stammered, "well, yes, you could call me, but you know I have a boyfriend, right?" "Uh, yeah, ok," he said, "I actually wanted to call you about voice over work."

Thud.