Tavalodat mobarak - تولدت مبارک

(That's "happy birthday" in Farsi, in case you ever need to use it.)

My CA family had another one of their legendary parties last night, this time in celebration of R's 18th birthday. I knew she was turning 18, but it didn't dawn on me until I saw her that night that I had met her for the first time about a month before she turned 8. She's all grownsed up.

As always, the house and backyard were packed with loud conversations between family and friends, the smell of great food, and upbeat Persian and pop music. As always, it was a blast.

I brought my friend G, who in turn brought her husband, and they got to meet the family and then some. We also got to meet one of R's coaches (and his wife) from which we learned about Runners High. (They are screening the film at the Oakland Museum on September 5. Hopefully you'll hear more about that at a later date.)

In true good party fashion, the cops showed up around 12:30a (after the neighbors complained) and shut down the music. It was a bummer to end things so abruptly, (but it did save me from having to hear "I Kissed a Girl" for the gazillionth time.)