Yesterday was Greatest Husband’s birthday. Not just any birthday, but one of those “round” birthdays, as our Scandinavian friends like to call them. Naturally, a weekend of celebration was planned that included friends from near and far in equal measure.
the author, as Joan Kennedy, tosses one down
Party number one – although our numbers were diminished by a blizzard raging across several states – included appearances by Fidel Castro, Jackie Kennedy and her badly behaved sister-in-law, Joan. (OK. I was Joan Kennedy, which in itself is pretty funny if you know me ’cause I am a renowned short hitter when it comes to alcohol. Good thing bad behavior doesn’t depend entirely on the use of drugs.)
other dignitaries in attendance
Party number two, also diminished in size due to the storm, was a dinner party at our home. No big deal. We do this sort of thing all the time, although I must admit, shoveling a two-foot snowdrift from the front of the barbeque shed door in order to be able to use the grill is not normally part of the party prep, but I digress.
The inner storm story is this: Never put bad cheese in a hot oven fifteen minutes before you expect guests to arrive. Never.