Bocce

Pillow fight in the morning, bocce in the afternoon. A was busy today. This woman is not A, this is Liesel.

In celebration of my birthday, Ethan organized a surprise Bocce Ball picnic at the Roxbury Park Bocce Ball courts. I love me some bocce and from these photos, you’ll instantly conclude that I love the caddy shack version.

Party of neerdowells on the green. Not usually allowed. Notice that balls are ready, but no one quite gives a fuck just yet.

Can dogs bocce? Abosultely. They provide an additional challenge by helping to chase away your opponent’s perfectly thrown ball. The park ranger had zero tolerance for this bit. We were sternly admonished for allowing this act of outright indecency as if we were midget racing on the green.

Kick our dogs out? That's cool, we'll get kids to take over.

Ben and Kate gave me gold and silver balls - the best kind.

Here are some people congratulating themselves on a) lack of form and b) lack of shame.

Ethan’s delicious home made birthday cupcakes. With the cupcakes, this party and his coordination of the beautifully crafted audio card edited by Evan Roberts starring Ethan and 49 of my dearest friends, he is without a doubt BF of the year. Maybe that’s one extra BJ in the morning this week.

The sun went down and we left no trace. Every bit of trash, every cheetoh that we smashed into the pavement, every bit of tom foolery was scrubbed from the place and we returned it to the domain of the somber professionals, a member of whom appeared on the court as we left. He was dressed all in white, his beautiful balls were in a wooden box, had his own piece of turf and the precision of a neurosurgeon. He was unfazed by our team, as we stumbled out with kitchen chairs, doritos, sun hats and left over burritos and hi fives all around.

Later in the evening, Ben came by in the Prius and took us to the LACMA Berlin Party. It was art and sausage. I hope he'll tell you about it.

Polaroids by David Stein.