December 18, 2005
Sunday

The party’s over. Some of my guests who read yesterday’s post were a little concerned about me. I guess it did sound toward the end there as if I were beginning to spin out.

This is the least ready I ever was for a party. In the past I had everything set and was able to go to the 11:00 service at church, even the two years when I invited guests for as early as 12:30. And one year I went to a choral concert on the Saturday night before in a town 25 miles away.

But things came together (thanks in large measure to my sister who arrived early and to Lynn who made a dip and arranged crackers and cookies and to Ron who supervised the heating of the lasagna, still cold in the middle after twelve hours thawing on the kitchen counter and an hour in the oven).

And people came together. There were many of my perennial guests. We missed some who have come year after year but for one reason or another were unable to come this year. And there were some new people. Lynn tended the door. If I heard girlish squeals (“EEEEE!!!”) I knew it was one of her friends. If I heard a hearty ‘Hi!” I knew it was friends of mine whom she knew. And if I heard a quiet “Hello” I knew it was someone new.

As usual, people I knew separately turned out to know each other from other associations. Two women had taught together. The birth mother of one of Lynn’s college friends had lived with a neighbor during her pregnancy, and my neighbor had been her birth coach. The adoptive mother was able to renew an old acquaintance and catch up on what my neighbor’s children were up to these days. Several of my grade school classmates came (an association that goes back fifty years now) — we sang the Poinsettia Song and they made folded paper stars (with more difficulty than back in sixth grade). Even the “come alongs” (the younger siblings of Lynn’s friends or the young children of my friends — “this is where we’re going tonight and you’re coming along”) seemed to enjoy themselves. The bird sang while people sat at the kitchen table.

The food disappeared — like last year, all of the fajita wraps, all of the ham balls, and most of the lasagna. There was only enough fruit and fresh vegetables left to fill one container of each. I sent half the Red Velvet cake along with a young woman for her boyfriend.

There are enough Saint Lucia buns for me to enjoy during a few quiet breakfasts as this week moves toward Christmas and I spend my C&C (Coffee and Contemplation) time thinking about how rich I am in friends.

To be included on the notify list, e-mail me:
margaretdeangelis [at] gmail [dot] com (replace the brackets with @ and a period)