Last week I was so excited to share my amazing musical events with you that I skipped over the epic birthday party I threw myself the weekend before. So back we go. . .

We’ve never been big on birthdays. This is because with so many kids they rolled around frequently, and if you toss in other family members, it becomes overwhelming. So when everyone got grown, we finally let them fete themselves or let a significant other do it for them. This year I decided to follow suit and host my own birthday spectacular.

It was a Murder Mystery Party entitled THE BRIE, THE BULLET, AND THE BLACK CAT. It came in a box with instructions and props. All I had to do was everything.

I read all the instructions. I needed ten to twelve people, a three-course meal, French décor, and a way to play the accompanying audio. It was going to be big. . .and complicated.

I love a challenge.

I enlisted all my Dallas children, Corey, sister Leigh Ann, and her son Dillon, plus Lyla and Wren. Everyone was assigned a part and suggestions on costumes.

The game was afoot.

I created packets for each “suspect” containing notebooks, name tags, pens, menu for the evening, plus booklets and clues that were included in the game.

The table was set as elegantly as I could muster, with the tongue-in-cheek centerpiece containing all the wedding presents from my china cabinet that had never seen the light of day. I even framed some souvenirs from my recent trip to France. Why France? The game was a rip off of the movie Casablanca and I was instructed to make it as French as possible, complete with Edith Piaf warbling in the background.

Everyone arrived at 5:30 for cocktails and charcuterie. They came ready to play, costumed to the hilt, in character and hysterical. They had raided closets, purchased on Amazon, and rifled through attics. Molly, lacking a fur coat, was draped in a faux chinchilla blanket off her couch.

We followed the script, read the dialogue, revealed the clues, ate the salads I had plated earlier, listened to the audio, interrogated each other, ate the Boeuf Bourguignon I had slaved over that afternoon, played more of the game, enjoyed tiny parfaits for dessert, made our accusations, then debriefed over more wine and brie and grapes.

Adam and Sarah turned out to be the murderers, in cahoots with each other to suss out traitors to France.

We had a ball. Dillon said it was the best birthday party he’d ever been to. Pretty high praise.

We’ve talked about doing another one sometime, but I’ll have to wait a while. It took days to get my house back to normal. Maybe for my 75th.