Last night I headed over to my friend M’s house to meet up with some of my high school friends and acquaintances for a rousing mystery dinner. M has a tradition of hosting these: apparently I’ve attended another one years ago where I was the murderer, but I have no recollection of it, even though my mom seems to. M got waylaid by all the snow in New York and figured that she could use the extra days in the ATL to host a dinner party.
I was given my character description the morning of the party. It included such words as “mysterious,” “bohemian,” and “bring something to munch on.” I didn’t have anything bohemian, per se, but fortunately, I do have a lot of random crazy clothes around the house. I sort of went the mystical route instead, which worked out quite nicely for me. And I showed up with spinach artichoke dip.
I. went. all. out. Nobody else went quite as out as I did, but I was pretty much expecting that. Y’all know that I like dressing up, though, so I didn’t mind. You may even recognize some of these clothes from previous posts on this little blog.
We played The Icicle Twist. (SPOILER ALERT: the murder weapon is an icicle!) I wasn’t the murderer this time, but I did end up having a pretty sweet ski bum lover and a promising career as a double agent.
This was really, really fun. I would like to do more of these at some point when I am in a position to host dinner parties and have a lot of friends over. Which isn’t right now because things are definitely in flux.