This weekend my husband and I attended a dinner party.
The occasion was the 91st birthday of my husband’s Aunt Clara.
It was just a family party, but it was special too.
We dressed up – in new clothes, thanks to our weight loss. (I love shopping for little clothes.)
Clara had said she didn’t want a party, protested that she didn’t even feel well, and insisted that she was just going to stay home. But her son-in-law packed her up anyway, and, since he is one fabulous hairdresser, gave her a great hairdo for the evening. She felt much better. There’s nothing that boosts your mood like good hair. That’s my motto.
Clara’s daughter prepared a fabulous meal (as always). She set the dining room table with her best china and crystal.
It was lovely.
We had good wine and a zillion delicious courses, and polite conversation.
With only a couple of days until the election, discussions have recently become a little heated, even among loving family members. I am a born-that-way liberal, and my husband was required to convert to it during the marriage ceremony. And like many converts, he has become quite fervent. So I had warned Hubby during the ride over that given the proximity to the election, he should avoid political discussion.
And he did!
I was proud of him. He was so civilized.
Clara’s grandson is a smart funny guy in his early thirties. He and my husband get along great, but don’t get a chance to see each other too often, so they caught up on the significant life events since they last saw each other – cars, roofing materials, and the all-important chain saws.
James’s girlfriend Tracy has never been to our house, and she remarked that everyone has been telling her how beautiful our home is.
And so my husband, always delighted at the prospect of showing off the spectacular home he built, and maintaining the excellent manners he had thus far exhibited, graciously said,
“We’d love to have you both come and visit. Come any time, Tracy. James — bring your gun.”