Enjoyed a dinner party on Saturday night cooked by my nearest and dearest one – Rory – or should I say Peaceful Possum.
To break the ice (even though I think everyone had met eachother before more or less) I decided to get everyone to intuitively choose their Native American names. I was inspired by Brat Camp, an engaging documentary screening on ABC TV at the moment, where unruly teens are sent to the wilderness looked after by well meaning, patient adults with names like Stone Bear, Mountain Spirit etc.
So on some old business cards I wrote out a bunch of adjectives and a bunch of nouns and everyone had to choose their name. And I was even wearing red… spooky. Other names included Granite Eagle, Howling Mist, Stormy Rainbow and Iron Mountain.
Rory cooked Indian (as in sub-continent)… which was divine and which will provide the next few dinners and no doubt a few extra pounds on my love handles.
I love it when we have dinner parties… I should have been an adult in the seventies when they were the done thing. Sigh.
My mother has located an evening of Bellydance at Kulcha in Fremantle… I’m thinking of going… anyone dare to join me?