I cracked into five weeks in the Pacific Northwest with an unexpected late-night foray to a country dance club: I spent the evening re-living the childhood thrill of being thrown high in the air by a strong person (learning swing aerials). I might have almost died of fun. I wrapped up my month-plus among the douglas fir and redwood trees by singing 80’s lady rock (Joan Jett) while a scantily-clad stripper performed aerial moves of her own on the pole four feet away.

Best. Party. Ever.

Three nights, four days, fifteen friends, and one license to completely relax and party.

My thirtieth birthday was — and this is not hyperbole — the *best party I’ve ever had. * Ever.

Five weeks have already gone by and I still swoon with delight when I think of it.

Last night at the cabin-of-freedom-from-adult-life!

The scene: Lincoln City — an Oregon coastal town full of posh rental houses. A winter quasi-weekend in January gave us pick of the litter. Our cabin came complete with hot tub, fantastic lounge area, awesome bedrooms, and a kitchen designed to feed crowds.

We did nothing and everything and I could easily spend several weekends a year hitting the repeat button. The food was (mostly) healthful and fantastic. The adult beverages plentiful, diverse, and delightful. The activities both languorous and hilarious — from Cards Against Humanity to Dirty Catch Phrase to Amy’s Special Trivia to beach walks to a few hours out at karaoke… It was like childhood summer vacation, but with all the power of the adult world.

I wish I could turn 30 every year!   ♣