Black skirt, sheer split-shoulder top...
...and these shoes. Spectator stilettos given to me by my
wonderful friend-neighbor Nicole Helget.
As I quickly found out, the shoes are meant for sitting and not for walking. There's a term for shoes like this. I learned it from a woman who owns a shoe boutique in Dingle, Ireland: "car-to-bar" shoes. As in, your date drives the car right up to the entrance to the bar, you hobble in and perch on the nearest barstool with your legs crossed so your fabulous shoes are on view, you drink and eat, you make merry, and then you hobble out to the car that your date has pulled up the curb when the night's over. "Car-to-bar." Beautiful.
The very tall heels of these beauties did make it easier for my little feet to reach the harp's pedals, though...
It was a great evening. The bar was packed.
Lots of friends showed up, and some cousins, too.
And bunches of people I don't know.
All of whom sang "Happy Birthday" to me in quite spectacular fashion.
I was mobbed by fans.
(OK, not really. This groups was just leaving all at once...)
Santa even stopped by to hear me play. With his fianceé, Carol.
(Don't tell Mrs. Claus.)
I played all my favorite carols and songs.
Loudly. My fingers were very sore. I kept playing...
...with periodic breaks to sip prosecco.
Note to harpists: This is NOT the proper way to sit
when you're playing the harp.
(But after two glasses of prosecco, you won't care...)
And then there was cake.
Red velvet chocolate cake made by my Mom.
She makes it for me every single birthday.
I looooooove the red velvet chocolate cake.
(Especially with the champagne...)
And this was the scene on my porch the next morning:
Cake carnage and stilettos dropped at the entrance
and totally forgotten for the night.