Home at Last

We went out on Wednesday, walked up the road for dinner with friends. There were 10 of us enjoying quite a spread set outside under the portal. Then on Friday we had a get-together of about 20 guests. Our neighbors from the Wednesday night bash brought some of the remains of their feast. As it was a Friday, it meant that all of us missed the museum opening that night, a fête with over a thousand folks.

Even though it is officially the quiet time of year, the party goes on as if to keep us all fit and in shape for the main event: The Holidays. To maintain the advanced social athleticism needed for the upcoming marathon, Dave and I are planning a number of small workout soirées and attending a few test dinner matches to maintain our party buffness. A friend from our old neighborhood stopped in last night for what turned into a mini impromptu party. I think I may have strained something; I forgot to pace myself (the party equivalent of stretching). You’d think I’d learn. Such casual, last minute partying is always a good test of preparedness. Clearly I have a ways to go before I can hope to be ready for the big one.

This coming week is somewhat similar to the last—out one night, dinner party at our house on Friday. This should keep us in good tone, particularly if we throw in a concert or a gallery-hopping night to make sure we’re working all the major muscle areas.



Photo © Jack Parsons

The odd thing is, we are in no way especially socially active. We don’t do dances or balls, we never go to bars (who needs ’em), and we throw out the steady stream of invitations to fundraisers on the theory that our presence will never be missed and it’s a lot cheaper and easier to send money. Then there are the public event dinners and the special previews and the opening nights of this, that, and the other thing that we pass on. Now that our daughters are grown and have their own party schedules, we can also pass on all those school carnivals, fiestas, and fundraisers—to say nothing of birthday parties.

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