It was my birthday yesterday, and so I had about 15 or so people over for my annual Josie and the Pussycats drinking game party. In retrospect that was more people than I can comfortably fit in my living room — but it was a nice excuse to see everyone, watch a funny movie, and show off the house to those who hadn't seen the place since I bought it last March.

(More so than my birthday it's that upcoming anniversary which reminds me I'm getting older.)

I know 27 doesn't sound like a big deal, but to me it's always been the last of the young person's birthdays, the last birthday you really take notice of before 30. And then it's 35 after that, and then 40, and so on. What's 28? It's nothing. Another notch.

Earlier this week I did some painting downstairs, in the misguided belief that I could make my basement livable before the party. On one podcast I listened to, Jordan, Jessie GO!, they had a long discussion of 27 as a milestone. What stuck out for me was their assertion that, at this point, you basically have to accept responsibility for where you're at in life. It's been your choices that've got you here, because at this point you've probably been the one in charge, more or less completely, for a few years at least.

In my case I have no problem with the sentiment. Even this year, hell this week, I've made some regrettable decisions, but overall I think I did pretty well with my 26th year. Last February I didn't have a house, I wasn't as good of friends with some people whom I've gotten to know a lot better since, and I didn't have any of the useful little skills I've acquired in the course of fixing up this house.

I grilled and biked all the time this summer after spending much of last winter promising myself that I would. Most of the stuff I bought this year, the stuff that will last at least, I bought only after a lot of deliberation — which means that I'm really happy with my fridge but also with this clock that I have to look at every single day.

(I've never needed that much, but I've learned that it's worth it to make sure the stuff around you is pleasing rather than just acceptable. Probably I've told you that's my philosophy with beer and cheese as well.)

I have a plan for 27 — time, luck, and money permitting. I know roughly what I want to do with the house: the basement will have a workshop, a beer cellar, and (eventually) a bedroom. Outside the house in the front I'm doing some sort of terracing so I don't have to risk my life mowing anymore, and on the bedroom side I'm going to plant something that can climb, if I can figure out a way to keep the squirrels from using my trellises as a funtime play area.

But last night's party: pretty good. Cramped, as I said above, but only because the parameters of the event required everyone to squeeze into one room. I could easily have a lot of people here, with the upstairs and soon the downstairs and backyard as well available for spillover.

The game itself, I don't know. With that many people I'm not sure if the game still works. It might lose its impact at 9 or 10 players. Still fun to see Josie again after a year wait though.

I think I'll still always enjoy the occasional game of King's Cup (although we played with the meanspirited old-school rules yesterday, which I certainly won't do again) but drinking games in general have been losing their appeal for me for a while. If I'm getting drunk I'd much rather sit around and have three or four good, strong beers than the eight or nine macrobrews I had last night (no hangover though: birthday miracle!)

Although if I'm just having a few I'm not picky, and I'd better not be because everyone brought beer yesterday. I filled up a trash can with empty cans and bottles this morning and I still can't fit all the leftover beers in the fridge.

OK, I've got to go, there's a wedding I've got to get to. Eventful weekend.