The Great Fortieth Birthday Party – a house party at our home in Detroit – did not start auspiciously. En
route from Louisville I received a text from a Detroit neighbor: “We are having a blackout until 11:30 p.m.
Friday.” With an acceptance I wouldn’t have had 10 years ago I sent a message to our friends heading up
for the event: “Bring flashlights and candles. The power is out but the party’s still on.”
Upon arriving at the house, a century-old brick behemoth we’d spent months rehabbing, we found the plumber had disconnected the water before leaving for the weekend. I’d told my friends to expect urban camping, as we didn’t have a stick of furniture, but no water and no electric? That’s a bit much for anyone, even my intrepid band of friends.
It gets better: Keep reading my story for Her Scene magazine, If this is 40, what was I waiting for?