Sunday, June 24, 2012

Day 307: Happy Happy Pizza Pizza!

Fun day, where I actually got to sit for a little while and enjoy my mom. We did our chores (Mom vacuumed the downstairs and cleaned my glass coffee table, which was awesome) and 90 loads of wash (so many beach towels!), then she and I looked up all sorts of stuff on the Internet: the name of the Richard Gere movie where he learns to dance (Shall We Dance?), whether the Julie Andrews and Carol Burnett specials are available on video (sorta), how to pronounce "tangential" (answer: not like "tan genital"), who teaches aqua-zumba in Chico, California, and all sorts of other things that have come up over the past eight days. We've been busy!

Then we got ready to entertain our wonderful guests: four pizzas, three salads, SO MUCH ice cream and toppings, and a pitcher of strawberry-rhubarb sangria, which was delicious. Also delicious: my vanilla-caramel-toasted almond-bacon sundae. Bacon on ice cream — who knew? It was like a very salty nut ("pork nuts," we christened them) — so yummy!

(I asked mostly-vegetarian Good Neighbor Anne if she was having bacon on her sundae, and she said, "For so many reasons, no.")

The party was super fun; the little boys watched Dodgeball and played Wii, the big boy played on the computer, the big girls watched 13 Going on 30 and Grease up in my bedroom, and the adults ate and drank and laughed and had a glorious time. I mentioned that these are the friends who really feel like my kids' extended family in Massachusetts, and I was happy that Mom got to get to know them a little better, and vice versa.

Though Mom was quiet tonight; I think she's tired. Eight days of nonstop-Chardonnayness, four people who never sit still or shut up (except Mimosa — she's a teenager, so she mostly just lounges), and trying to keep up with her mogul daughter . . . she's winding down. Which I totally get, I'm tired too. Mostly my feet.

Tomorrow she and I do the last few errands we didn't get done, including shopping with Mimosa, then we go see the mister conduct a symphony orchestra. More to be revealed!

Sweet dreams, babies.

—Lady C

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