What a Fabulous Night!

Eight empty bottles of various wines and champagne signifies a successful evening!

I can’t begin to tell all the details, but the party was a great success! All twelve people attended (including Scott and me); the babysitter took Emily anyway, and later said she was a sweetheart); the house was nearly all ready when guests began to arrive.

My mother’s china was a beautiful fit with the food and décor. I lit two special candles for the Nordic God and Goddess so they could attend in spirit. The wives attending the party used all I had set out and set the table for me—it was gorgeous when they got done. All of the guests commented on how good the food tasted—one husband said it was the best scalloped potatoes and chocolate cake he’d ever had. There were few leftovers, so that tells me they didn’t lie, unless of course they were used to eating very, very bad food and saying good things about it.

I did not like it that the women helped so much, but they did, and because of them, the timing went according to plan.

All the guests watched as I decorated the desserts—caramel drizzle on the plate, chocolate heart cake, cheese cake petit fours, hot fudge drizzle over everything on the plate.

We laughed, told stories and jokes, and the questions I had created were a great hit, too. As I had intended, the questions provoked other questions and further conversation. Scott and I enjoyed every moment of the dinner party, and have already decided to do it again next year.

However, the expense and work and my subsequent illness has caused me to say no more parties like this until after the summer. Maybe a bbq in the summer time, but not a formal thing like this was. It was beautiful, and the less often we have these parties, the more special they are. Scott and I needed it, though. It was so gratifying to have only adults in the house, and not have someone calling, “mommy” or “daddy” all night long.

With that said, when the last guest left at midnight, it was time to go pick up the girls at the babysitters. As we arrived there, I realized just how much I had really missed them, my little coughing sleeping Emily and my dear smiling Sarah. They’d had a great time that night, too, playing with the children there.

The menu changed a little. For the appetizers, I made a crudite platter, added shrimp, and made an artichoke/spinach dip in a sourdough boule, which dried a little too much, but was eaten anyway. The brie en croute is still in my fridge. It will wait for spontaneous guests to be served.

I made carrots with leeks according to a recipe given me by executive chef Mark Tyler of Walt’s Wharf, our favorite southern California restaurant. He was so nice to speak with on the phone, and so helpful. I felt as if I was talking with a celebrity, got kind of tongue tied, but we were still able to have a decent conversation.

The rib looked to me as if it was still moo’ing, but everyone ate it, and my husband loved it. Instead of having heart shaped scalloped potatoes, I made scalloped potatoes in individual heart-shaped ramekins. Unfortunately, my heart-shaped potatoes looked more like pac-men than hearts.

Now I’ll tell you why I haven’t written until today, three days later. Sunday at around noon, I woke with pain in my chest when I breathed, and my head felt as if it was full of not quite coagulated gelatin. When I turned my head in any direction, my brain followed me about ½ second later. I did finally get out of bed,, managed to do some dishes, and my once again most gracious husband entertained the girls. I had not got to bed until about 3:30 Sunday morning, and thought I must just be very tired.

My hips hurt, though, and my chest pains did not go away, and I went back to sleep for about an hour; then made dinner for Scott, Dad and the girls. Took Dad home, and felt as if a truck had run over me again. Got to sleep very late again, and tried to get through all the necessities of Monday. Then Monday night, Sarah woke barfing, and I was up with her until 4:30 am, and my body really rebelled against me.

Tuesday, I coughed and coughed, and just couldn’t move much. I just wanted to cry, since there was so much to do. I kept Sarah home from school, and she and I slept in my bed until about noon. Emily, sweet thing as she is, entertained herself, and when I finally dragged myself out of bed, she said, “I stayed very quiet so you and Sarah could rest because you are sick.” Poor thing; she got her own breakfast and snack and watched whatever came on TV. The house wasn’t too ruined, either.

However, I still felt awful. I coughed so much I thought my lungs would come out. Scott brought home some cough medicine and I went back to bed. I felt a little better after a 3-hour sort-of-nap, but took the cough medicine and went back to bed again, sleeping until about 7:30 this morning. Today I’ve felt much improved, thank you to Scott, but have taken it easy because if I move around too much the gelatin returns to my brain within minutes. Emily has been a great companion all day. I did manage to make her breakfast and lunch today, at least.

So, as for Saturday night’s Couples Valentine’s Dinner, everyone left just as planned, full, happy and slightly inebriated! Yippee!