grown up life

my office had our holiday party this evening at the home of our executive director. she has a lovely apartment in the west 100s, a two and a half bedroom, two and a half bath beauty, with a kitchen you can cook in and an open living and dining room with a wall of windows. it was well-decorated, with pottery from south american travels and pictures of the family at the homestead in greece. the apartment felt chic but welcoming, and i just fell in love with it. it was the kind of new york apartment i dream of, where i could live and entertain and feel was an oasis in this city. (i really need to strike it rich asap. and how.)

the party itself was fun, with latkes aplenty (we are a formerly jewish arts organization.) i sat with the women i work with and we talked and laughed and drank wine, and it reminded me of when my sister and i were little and my parents would have their book club over. we would be relegated to the back bedroom with movies and snacks, already bathed and pajamaed, allowed to stay up past our bedtimes. every now and again, laughter would burst from the living room, and occasionally we would sneak through, on a kitchen pretense, to catch a glimpse of the adults talking and eating and drinking. it seemed like so much fun, that adult world of witty conversation and linzer torte, and tonight i felt like i had finally arrived. i was at a work party for my own office, not the guest of a parent, i was drinking wine with my fellow adults, talking about gala events, occasionally bursting into gales of laughter loud and happy enough to make a child in the next room curious. i had a real adult birthday yesterday, and went to a real adult work party tonight, and it is starting to feel less like i am playing at being a grown up, and more like i am actually growing up. and i like it.