The other night we (and by we, I mean my sister from Mississauga and I) decided to have a lovely evening ‘just for us’. Why not? Life itself is a celebration. Just the fact that we got up that morning. The fact that my sister was visiting. The fact that my mom was flying in from Sun Peaks at suppertime. The fact that my daughter was exhausted and needed a reprieve. Because it wasn’t pouring rain. Because there were no bombs dropping around us. Because we didn’t need to visit someone in a hospice. Because there were no fires burning in our neighborhood. We decided to make it special and accidentally went all out. I purposely go all out for other people all the time. I host bridal showers and baby showers and teas and dinner parties and anniversaries and Christmas and farewell parties. Let’s not forget Valentines, a perfect excuse to make beautiful. Its my thing. It all started back when mom used to get me to decorate for my dad’s company Christmas parties that were usually held at our house. I made decor out of whatever I could find in the house. I also used to put on plays for my parents complete with sets, backdrops, costumes and songs I had written. I bribed all my siblings into being the actors. So, you see, this has been going on for quite some time.
Because Life is a Celebration
I’ve even been known to host praise parties. I decorate for other people’s life events and I bake cakes, pies and other all manner of savories and sweets …for other people. I garland the balloons and tissue the flowers and paper-flower the backdrops. I project the movies appropriate to the theme when necessary. I ask the guests to dress up to enhance the mood of the party. Sometimes I send out invites and sometimes its by word of mouth. But no matter the occasion or the theme, I usually go-all-out. (Some prefer to call it ‘over-the-top). Whatever. I love to recreate a scenario (like the time I turned a friends lovely home into a cruise ship for my husbands birthday) or do something completely new and unexpected. Often I enlist the help of friends to get the job done. Their response is usually “you want me to do what? Why? How? Where? When? ” I have a vision that no one else sees, I guess. I’m pretty sure I’m thought of as crazy or at least eccentric.
This past Friday I was laying in bed contemplating how I could make a fabric tent in the backyard. I got up and started just looking for a long enough rope to tie from one end of the fence to the fence across so I could drape a piece of sheer fabric over it. A shabby chic tent of sorts. Something I could string mini lights in and around, over and under. Can one ever have too many mini lights? We really didn’t have any intention of making this into a big thing. It just happened. One glance at my patio table umbrella and the thought occurred to me that it had a big enough footprint that if I just draped fabric over it we would have a makeshift tent for our little soiree. The piece of fabric I had in mind wasn’t quite large enough to cover the umbrella and drape to the ground so I brought out all manner of sheer fabric and my sister and I began to craft at tent fit for a bride. No backdrop like this is complete without twinkle lights (we planned to sit out there until well after dark). Then I remembered I had three chandeliers downstairs that we could easily hang from the inner workings of the umbrella. And of course a low table came out with a chenille bedspread, given me by one of my ancestors. A pink rug with sculpted roses was brought out for sitting on and several flocked cushions for propping ourselves up on. And why not an urn of silk flowers? I actually had stopped by the floral shop where my daughter works and picked out an absolutely perfect bouquet of fresh flowers for our table. A few candles to burn in the darkness. A few pink Adirondacks. A water mister just far enough away so as not to soak us but close enough so we could feel its subtle mist when we needed it. So it got a little out of hand. But who cared? It was just us. And we are kindred spirits when it comes to making life beautiful.
We were calling it a White Wine and Waffle night. My sister and I had purchased sparking rose wine and strawberry/grapefruit mimosas. We had crackers and cheese and dips to start. The remains of the watermelon came out as well since this happened to be the hottest night of the year for us. My car had registered 39 metric whatevers. Oh right, Celius. (What? I learned the Imperial system in school). Once we’d had our fill of precursor food, I brought out the waffle cake I had made. Waffle cake is essentially just a huge stack of waffles doused in whip creme, fruit and syrup. So we took a deep breath and savored every bite of the breakfast food we were having for supper. It was decadent. Who has time for waffles in the morning anyway?
We just relaxed and nibbled at our waffles at our leisure. We had no where to go. In fact, there was no where else I would have rather spent the evening. We were living in the moment, Sitting on our rug. My mom, my sister, my daughter and I. I knew a memory was being forged. Ella crooned over the bluetooth speaker. Followed by Billy Holiday. I may even had heard Harry Connick Jr. at one point. Claire de lune also had its chance to be part of the evening. We reclined like Jesus and the 12 disciples at the last supper. Because of the heat of the day, all was very still. We talked of many things…of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings….nothing life changing. Another glass of wine please. More syrup please. What kind of cheese is this? The neighborhood was exceedingly quiet. Thank you. And the air was thick with heat and humidity. The hottest night on record I believe. It was good to just live in that moment and enjoy the grass between our toes. lay on the rug and look at the stars. Close our eyes and doze for a bit. It was peaceful and our bellies and heart were full. Life was definitely worth celebrating.
The Red Plaid Apron 