Solstice Party!

We had a snow storm that left us about five inches. What began as a white wonderland turned into a wet snow for the majority of the day clinging to every branch and bush and by nightfall a dry powdery confection.  Woody shoveled all the way down the hill and to the road twice. The ice hung around for three treacherous days and then a warm front and melted it all. The ground is now bare and green.

I’m so glad the storm did not bring the high winds they were predicting and that we never lost power. In fact, the lights didn’t even flicker. I was afraid we would have to move our annual the party to Sunday afternoon.  But it was all hype, at least for us.  

Tonight, we are giving a solstice party for about 14 people. We’ve been cooking all day and I still have a mac ‘n cheese with lobster to make, but I’ve done everything else.  Woody helped me and he has one dish to cook by himself—air

fryer popcorn shrimp. In about 50 minutes I’ll start on my dish. I do need Woody to grade lots of cheese – sharp cheddar and gruyere and a bit of parmesan.  He roasted a turkey breast yesterday.  I made curried turkey salad first thing today; then we collaborated on deviled eggs and a green bean and chickpea salad with kalamata olives, pine nuts, etc. We have several kinds of sushi from Friends Market. Karen is making lasagna, Indira is bringing an Indian sweet potato dish, Bonnie, green salad, and Bruce, a fantastic baker (Woody calls him The Prince of Scones), his famous apple pie. Gigi brought over a big plate of ginger cookies. Nobody is dieting tonight.

This will be brief as I need to get back to cooking. I tidied the living room, Woody straightened up the kitchen area downstairs. I put nine ornaments back on the tree that the cats had run off and played with.  As I walked through the areas I had already cleaned up, I saw two more on the floor.  The boy cats view the tree as a giant plaything. Willow just likes to lie under it, hidden, smelling the balsam and gazing up into the branches. Our friend the novelist and poet Mary Mackey from Berkeley sends us a gift basket of fruit every year. We love the fruit. Shaman loves the basket. So we put it under the tree where he nests all night.

I will take next week off. No writing, no editing. (I always promise myself to which Woody scoffs, Good luck!) Maybe catch up on small but important tasks. I went through my bra drawer this week and threw out bras I hadn’t worn in years. What’s left now are the truly wearable ones.  I need to do this for several other categories in many other drawers.