And another thing, when someone yawns twice in a half-hour, it means go home.

I am blessed. Even in this state of Xanax-and-Cabernet or Soma-and-Pinot Noir (decisionsdecisions), I know I am luckier than most. Family members keep me strong and care enough to call collect. Two kids have promised to stop whining for at least two days. Husband gave me the remote control. And lifelong friends are gathering at my house this weekend to celebrate the beginning of our fourth decade on this planet.

“No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.” I used to believe that statement and can’t possibly go back on it now that times are tough.

It’s what we, elite thinkers who wax inappropriate body cavities and stand too close to others during polite conversation, call a “universal truth.”

Universal truths hold no matter the circumstance.

Yet, as I get older, I no longer believe in as many of them.

For example: “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.” True. Yes. But what happens when menopause hits and a slower-than-snails metabolism stretches your ass to the size of a small couch no matter what you eat? Since you’ll never be thin again, maybe that slice of chocolate cake that tastes like heaven should be enjoyed despite the fact you no longer see your feet.

Other truths change, too.

I used to think “BYOB” was the worst thing you could see at the bottom of a party invitation. Even worse than, “Bring a prayer to share.”

I haven’t required guests to bring supplies since college when undeclared majors emptied my parents’ wine rack and then threw up all over the flower bed before passing out in the driveway and almost getting run over by my dad’s truck when he came home PISSED about his goddamn flowers.

I realized quickly I was too cheap to pay for puke.

In my thirties, I learned to be selective with the guest list and that the oven is a great place to hide good wine. After that, it was easy to party properly.

For a while.

As we get older, more friends show up demanding imported beer and that “good tasting” cheese. Not everyone, some people I know were brought up right. Julie alone comes to town and hauls half of Target and the local liquor store with her.

She’s good people.

But enough peeps arrive, as my mother says, with one arm longer than the other. So there goes my BYOB “truth.” Right out the window.

If I host more than one gathering in six-month’s time, I tell people to bring something. Often, they ask for suggestions. Now, I ain’t no Martha Stewart, but I tell these lifelong friends to pick one of the ideas below and get back to me.

1. Salt and Vinegar potato chips, Coors Light, breath mints.
2. Lard-free bean dip, Homemade Sangria, 6-pack of Cottonelle.
3. Sushi, Sake, at least 3 current events to discuss.
4. Fresh fruit, 2006 Meridian Vineyards Santa Barbara County Chardonnay, 5 original and heart-felt compliments.
5. Brownies, micro-brew beer, notarized statement brownies are “family-friendly.”
6. Your Aunt Nora’s Famous “Magic Mushroom” pizza, 2004 Mendocino County Pinot Noir, silent air of superiority.
7. Salsa,corn chips, mojito mix, inappropriate jokes.
8. Mystery Guacamole, gluten-free pita, imported beer, self-control.
9. Spinach dip, box of Wal-Mart’s finest wine, thick skin.
10. Stuffed mushrooms, cheese sticks, and Zima…you know you can’t afford nothin’ else.

The next time you host a party, try it. Don’t go broke playing bartender and benevolent host because it will never end. Swear to God. People will show up at your funeral disappointed you didn’t spring for an open bar.