On Saturday my parents hosted a get-together for poet-related people. My mother did almost all the work of the food/cleaning etc. My only contribution was pesto macaroni and cheese, of which there is no photographic evidence. For starters there were shrimp with homemade cocktail sauce.
Cheese and salami.
And fresh picked daisies. Okay, the daisies weren't for eating. Note where my foot is in relation to the flower heads...these suckers are tall, growing out of rock and sturdy even in rainstorms.
My mother made a lovely spinach and mixed greens salad.
And some of her highly addictive potato salad.
And a coriander black bean salad with corn and cilantro.
And she warmed up a pre-cooked Paula Deen ham.
The poet's brother wearing the poet's honorary laurel crown (this was not a gift from the university) and his soon to be wife.
There was a whole heck of a lot more singing of songs I didn't know. I think those who knew the songs loved it. I went in and out of loving it and being rather bored. I have video of this singing but it would take two years to upload. So. Yeah.
Cheese and salami.
And fresh picked daisies. Okay, the daisies weren't for eating. Note where my foot is in relation to the flower heads...these suckers are tall, growing out of rock and sturdy even in rainstorms.
My mother made a lovely spinach and mixed greens salad.
And some of her highly addictive potato salad.
And a coriander black bean salad with corn and cilantro.
And she warmed up a pre-cooked Paula Deen ham.
The poet's brother wearing the poet's honorary laurel crown (this was not a gift from the university) and his soon to be wife.
There was a whole heck of a lot more singing of songs I didn't know. I think those who knew the songs loved it. I went in and out of loving it and being rather bored. I have video of this singing but it would take two years to upload. So. Yeah.
3 comments:
From the photo, I would guess that these are marguerites. Daisies are edible (I've tried!); marguerites not so much, I think.
Oh my there is hope for the older set, one can find a silly man willing to wear a laurel wreath and get married. I would have been bored out of my tree with songs I don't know. I was at a party in the nearby mountains here years ago and some frustrated musician (not to say the party goers chez tu were in the least bit frustrated starseekers) started plinking away in some awful faux bluegrass way, and I left the deck, muttering to my sorry self that I had moved OUT of Appalachia precisely to escape THAT.
But your seems far more innocent and totally not obnoxious.
The Mom spread was quite delux and do I espy Eugene Ham in one of the pix? A most gifted storyteller and one does want to know the origins of his accent. He had referred to J and a pal as "those adorable and deelightful young vixen" once a long time ago, in that drawl of his, and I just had to laugh out loud.
We are having a lovely spring here, albeit wet (altho on the heels of serious scary drought last year I will respectfully shut up) and the air is just heavy with roses and honeysuckle. I escape out my office box just to go out and sniff the air!
When do you trundle off bag baggage and largeboned cat to Philly? Largeboned, I get that! WE are so not on the way, but if you need a detour, come on! If you arrive Memorial Day or later, the pool will be open and we will be going.
You do spy a Ham, of two sorts actually. And yes, I, too, get quite a kick out of his pronunciation of bird...boid. Lovely. He knew many a verse to Froggie Went A' Courting...those who knew the song in the first place were quite impressed.
I leave on Monday. And on Friday, well, I'm going to a thing somewhere else entirely. Whether it will be good or awful, I don't know.
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