Friday night we had a housewarming party.

For a while we were worried that it wouldn't happen at all. Lisa had told her coworkers that the party would start around 7:30, and by 9:30, we hadn't seen hide nor hair of them. No one from Calgary had been able to make the two-and-a-half hour trip, so it was just the two of us and a heck of a lot of food.

We shouldn't have worried. All the local staff were out at 'Spirit of the Dance', which was showing for one night only, and were planning on dropping by after the show ended. Just as we're giving up and starting to pack everything away, they showed up, beer in hand.

I don't think I've ever been at a party where I knew fewer people. I had only met a couple of them in passing at the station. I still had fun. Beer and food and fun people always make for a good time.

Lisa was much more relieved than I was. She had her own personal horror movie going through her head where absolutely no one from her work showed up and she had to put on a brave face for the next week so they all wouldn't pity her for being the loser who had no one at her party.

It's not so silly. I've felt much the same way before every party I've ever hosted. It's never happened, but you still feel it.

Anyway, around one in the morning, everyone (myself included) is getting a bit tired of just sitting around, so we all decide to head down to a local bar to do some dancing. We sent the rest on ahead, as we wanted to pack the food away out of the reach of the cats (who had already managed to clandestinely remove the whipped cream off some of the mini-cheesecakes).

We finally head out the front door and Lisa stops and kneels down to beckon to this poor, cold-looking cat some cruel owner obviously locked out for the night. (Did you know that cats that are never allowed outside have a life span nearly twice as long as those who are put out at night? Don't even get Lisa started on the subject.)

"Aw, look," she says. "Isn't she pretty?"

"Lisa," I hiss, staring across the street. "Look."

"But look at the kitten!" she says. "Isn't she sweet!"

"Look!" I hiss, more urgently.

"What..." She looks. "Oh!"

Padding silently down the opposite sidewalk is a white-tailed deer, carefully making her way across the ice and snow. Lisa pointed out three more, standing silently a little further on, stark outlines on a snow-covered lawn.

We live about a block from the South Saskatchewan River, so I figure they must have wandered down the riverbank and came up looking for something to eat. This theory was somewhat confirmed as they gathered around a bush and started nibbling.

"Over there!" Lisa points. "There's more!"

Three more crept out between the houses and moved up to join the others. The whole group simply strolled on down the street, completely ignoring us and the occasional car passing by. Medicine Hat traffic is never busy as any time, and hardly anyone is on the roads after midnight.

If I ever complain about how boring our new home gets, remind me that the deer only come out when it is really quiet.

Mmm. Venison.

Did you set the night on fire?

So how are you feeling?

Take me home, big fella