Kellie’s 60th Basement cocktail bar Downtown Lansing Starfarm (80s cover band)

The Whole Table on the Dancefloor

If you asked, “How were your holidays?” here’s the honest answer: we didn’t just celebrate a birthday. We got one of those rare nights that feels like a bookmark in the story—glitter, laughter, and the kind of calm you only get when you’re surrounded by the right people.

Photo album: [PASTE YOUR BLOGGER ALBUM LINK HERE]

Kellie’s kids planned everything. Every detail. Every “how is this even possible” moment.

I tried to help—honestly, I did—but pretty quickly I realized my best contribution was trusting the strong will of two smart, independent women. The kind who don’t need rescuing, don’t request a committee meeting, and somehow still make it all look effortless.

Which makes sense, because they come by it honestly—just like their mom… and her mom.

The Basement Speakeasy (Built by People Who Actually Show Up)

Down in Alaina’s basement, they built a pop-up celebration that looked like it had a sponsor and a production crew. A full cocktail bar. A photo booth. A 7-foot balloon tower and a photo wall that basically said, “Welcome to the part of life you’ll remember later.”

Kellie’s drink list (by request, no improvising)

The drinks weren’t random. They were exactly what she asked for, with every supply gathered and ready like we were running a one-night-only lounge:

Cosmopolitan
Peppermint espresso martini
Mudslide
Glittery mimosa (with dried cranberries—because of course it had dried cranberries)

Nate and Erica mixed everything in real time—calm, capable, and dangerously good at making “makeshift” look like “professional.”

Basement magic: the kind of setup that looks effortless… because someone worked hard before anyone arrived.

Kellie Arrived Like the 80s Won

Kellie showed up in full 80s gear like she’d been personally summoned by a time portal with a glitter budget. A glittery Rocky Horror mouth. Net gloves. A tutu. Leg warmers. A sash.

And then the finishing move: a tiara with 60 woven into the gem work like it wasn’t asking permission. “Miss Houghton Lake” energy—only upgraded.

The thing about Kellie is this: she can absolutely do the big, flashy, over-the-top parts…
but what she truly wants is simpler and rarer—her people, close enough to reach.

From the Basement to Downtown Lansing

Then it was time to trade the basement speakeasy for downtown Lansing.

Josh—our stalwart designated driver—got us there with everyone’s glitter intact and nobody having to play the “am I okay to drive?” guessing game. That kind of steady help is underrated… until you’re in a car full of adults dressed like the 1980s just won a custody battle for all fashion decisions.

We headed to The Nut House, and that’s where the night turned into something else. Starfarm—an 80s cover band (yes, a real band)— did what great bands do: they pulled a room full of strangers into the same rhythm like it was no big deal.

Downtown Lansing energy: loud in the best way, and exactly where the night needed to go next.

The Whole Table on the Dancefloor

And then it happened.

“Walk Like an Egyptian” hit, and suddenly our whole table was on the dancefloor—like we’d rehearsed it, like we were contractually obligated, like our knees hadn’t filed formal complaints with management.

Surrounded by strangers, moving in perfect nonsense, we looked like a room full of grown-ups remembering they’re allowed to be happy. And here’s the part that matters: even in a room full of people we didn’t know, I felt completely safe. Calm. Settled. Like life was lining up right for a minute.

Eight years ago, Kellie and I danced the night away too—back when I was being introduced to Alaina around that same time, back when everything was still becoming what it was going to be. That night was her Zumba group and her youngest and one of those “this is fun but also kind of important” feelings you don’t know how to name yet.

Fast forward, and here we are again—same city, same kind of music, same dance shoes on my feet—only this time it wasn’t the Zumba circle. This time it was family. The core group that makes Kellie who she is. The people she trusts. The people who built the night with their own hands and then showed up inside it.

Our people. The best kind of night: close, real, and exactly as it should be.

The Line That Made It All Click

Somewhere in the middle of all the loud fun, the music shifted into “99 Red Balloons”—which is not one of Kellie’s favorite songs, which somehow made it even more honest.

We slow danced anyway. Just us.

And she said, plain as day: “This is exactly what I wanted for my birthday.”

That sentence did it for me.

Because the night wasn’t really about being big. It was about being close. About laughter that doesn’t feel forced. About the people you love being within arm’s reach—so you don’t have to work at feeling okay.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t just at a party. I was home.

One more chapter this week

Now we’re staying at Alaina’s for the next week—board games, video games, and Christmas cheer—so the story isn’t over. It’s just switching settings from “dancefloor” to “living room,” from “Starfarm volume” to “somebody shuffle the cards.”

Eight years ago, I had a feeling I was right. And somehow… I’m even more right today.

Full Photo Album

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