Last night we celebrated my friend Sue's 59th birthday.

I know you can't tell from this picture, but with the spousal unit being the driver and all, it was my turn to be the designated drinker. Yep, by the time the present opening rolled around I was firmly ensconced on the floor, being propped up by the back of an armchair.

Alcohol Is Not My Friend.

I'm cut off at three beer and even at that point you can pretty much count on me to try to bring back Hammer Time and to remember the words to "U Can't Touch This."

Yo, let me bust the funky lyrics.

I'll just give you a few moments to absorb the pure horror of those words coming out of the mouth of a tipsy, 51-year-old white-haired, blue-eyed white woman with absolutely no sense of rhythm.

Yepper, I think we can all agree that it's enough to make an atheist of the Pope.

The party itself was great fun. Our friends are fabulous cooks, so the food was amazing. I've known almost all the people there over 20 years, which is a kind of scary number.

My favourite moment was when Sue opened a present from her son, Derin. He'd put it in a box that used to hold a hydraulic jack, didn't wrap the box, and had us all convinced that that's exactly what he'd bought his mom.

In truth, he'd bought her a sexy little summer dress with narrow straps. When Sue pulled it out of the misleading box, my spousal unit sang out, "Derin wants a little brottthhhhher."

THAT brought down the house.

There was a big storm predicted for that night so when when the spousal unit drove home we left the Marnmobile down in the garage on the main road and walked the quarter mile uphill home. The woods were utterly still. Our breath made little steam clouds in front of us as we walked; the only sound was our murmured conversation and the crunch of our boots on hard half-frozen gravel.

There's this moment when you make a sharp left turn in our road and our house rises up in front of you. Last night, its front windows glowed a warm, welcoming yellow from the lights we'd left on in the porch.

Every time I see that, that little beacon of light in the middle of the woods, I feel incredibly blessed.