An invitation for every kind of gathering.

Lab coats and goggles are provided. The slime goes home with you.

Ten laps each, helmets provided. Pizza after the last lap.

The DJ starts at sundown.

Dinner on the patio, for as long as the light lasts.

Frozen margaritas for the grown-ups all afternoon.

Book your own flight. Saturday dinner on the lanai is our treat.

Private room until one. Duets are mandatory after midnight.

Croquet, cornhole and a block tower that always falls. Teams picked at the gate.

A shower for Aria & Idris’s girl. Wear purple.

The committee said yes on Thursday. The beetles have been informed.

His grandfather is in charge of the carne asada. Nobody argues.

A sunset sail before college.

The heaters are on, the blankets are out, and the skyline does the fireworks.

Wear something that sparkles. Heels off at 12:01.

The start line is by the boathouse. Run it or walk it; everyone eats pie at the finish.

Every August since 1998. Bike parade at two.

The paperwork goes in the fire pit at eight.

The gravy simmers from noon, and Aurelio still won’t share the recipe.

He pulls every bowl to order, right in front of you.

We pour it all out on newspaper.

Gin fizzes shaken until your arm aches. Ask for Ottoline and say the fizz is flat.

Zora is shaking Manhattans and the hi-fi is warmed up.

Dome show at 1:15, then cake under the stars and a turn in the box rocket.

Hard hats at the gate. The cake arrives by dump truck.

Kids versus parents at four. Cleats if you have them.

Honey cake for the grown-ups. A gentle hive tour for everyone.

Platforms encouraged. Requests until ten.

Dress code: all pink, all sparkle. Photos on the carpet until nine.

First round's on her. Bring ID.

Arrive by 6:45. When the lights go off, get behind the bar.

Judging starts at two. Biggest splash wins.

Forty-one looks good in a rocks glass. Negronis from six.

Tokens are on us. The skee-ball champion gets the first slice.

Snacks for the big kids, diapers for the new one. Come as you are.

Cut the honey cake to find out. Pink inside for a girl, blue for a boy.

Partners, kids and dogs all welcome. Bring a lawn chair and a due-date guess.

Dress in black and gold. Unmasking at midnight, dancing until the DJ gives up.

Bring a sweater. The town show goes up over the water around 9:15, and the dock is the best seat.

Bring the best of your fridge. We’ll supply rolls, gravy and stretchy pants.

Bring a noisemaker. We have the bubbly, and Monty has been practicing the countdown.

The fire went on before dawn. Bring an appetite and something cold to share.

The brisket went on at midnight. White bread, pickles and horseshoes on the side lawn.

Ninety-four years since Repeal. Dress like you’re hiding something.

A real bar and real bartenders, with a menu that has no alcohol on it.

Leis at the gate. The torches go on at sundown.

Sol is making the jeweled rice and has bought every pomegranate in Fresno.

Rosa’s geraniums are in full bloom. So is Teodor’s grill.

Big hair encouraged. Ray has the mixtape.

They met here in 1982. Skates provided.

Elevator works. Rooftop’s open. Snacks are on us.

Chili cook-off in the bay. The captain is judging.

Gordon Achterberg is done with alarm clocks. Nine holes, then dinner on the patio.

Teams of four. Phones go in the pint jar.

He drives to San Diego on Monday. The wagon is already packed.

Waffles, real coffee and a full hour off the floor. You have earned all three.

Brisket off the smoker and every shift covered, so nobody has to eat standing up.

Every position, every level. Bring kneepads.

Spreadsheets that don’t fight back.

$30 entry. Kids run free; strollers welcome.

Bring a kitchen favorite and the recipe you make with it. We’re filling her recipe box.

The tower gets poured at ten.

Rufus's uncle leads the band.

Every guest goes home with an armful of peonies.