“Never miss a party…good for the nerves–like celery.”

Today is pretty but cold. The wind is blowing all the tree limbs and the hanging leaves. I’m wearing my sweatshirt, an essential part of my fall wardrobe.

Lots to do today. Friends are coming to dinner. The shopping is crossed off the list. The house, still on the list, is in capital letters. It needs a bit of a touch up. The dust is swirling. The kitchen floor is a map of dog tracks.

Nala will steal anything. The house is not safe from this marauder. Yesterday it was two dolls out of my room, one from Ghana and one from my childhood. Today it was naan. She ran outside onto the deck, with her booty in her mouth, but she dropped the bread, but when I yelled. She tried to grab the package again, but that slowed her down. She ended up with only the cover. I got the bread.

I was contemplating putting a gate across the stairs, but Henry would be the victim. My bedroom is his solitude. He takes naps on my bed. The beastie usually stays downstairs.

Henry had his own issues last night. He threw up several times, the poor boy, but today he is fine. I guessed it may have been all the shots the day before. I was getting ready to take him to the emergency vet, but he stopped being sick and went to sleep. I breathed.

When I was a kid, my parents didn’t entertain much. The house was too small, but when they moved off cape, they bought a perfect house for entertaining. My mother threw epic parties. One of my favorites was the D-Day party celebrating the 35th anniversary. My mother decorated the dining room with maps of the landings. On the TV the movie The Longest Day played during the whole party. In the kitchen, songs from WWII played, and the crowd sang along. My family was big for singing in the kitchen, never the living room. People were scrunched together on the kitchen benches. The bar was on a small counter next to the fridge, handy for ice. The food was only a few steps away in the dining room. It covered the table. I think I remember the table groaning.

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2 Comments on ““Never miss a party…good for the nerves–like celery.””

  1. Bob Says:

    Hi Kat,

    I’m still waiting for the predicted rain. Otherwise it’s a beautiful day with a high in the low 80s.

    My parents never entertained when I was a kid. Once in about 1958 or so, my father invited his sales manager to the house for dinner. She had flown in from New York for a couple of days and she was maybe in her late 40s and had never married. I remember my mother saying to my father, after she left, how sad she must be to not have a husband and children. Woman’s liberation has come a long way, thank goodness.

    • katry Says:

      Hi Bob,
      It got cold today. We were going to have appetizers on the deck, but it was too cold. I put on a sweatshirt, get too hot, take it off and get cold again. It is a weird time of year for weather.

      My parents were wonderful hosts. They always had a Christmas party, and it was great fun. I used to help with the cooking. On Friday nights, my uncle would visit, and it was drinks in the kitchen, sometimes a card game, usually Hi-Low Jack.

      The parties kept the family close as aunts and uncles were at the party enjoying each other’s company. I miss them all.


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