Dan'l and Jim's Solstice Party*

I got up this morning and had Indian red tea, which I had been looking forward to for a couple of days. I then went to the flea market, excited that I had a bit of room cleared out from the glass re-org this week. Because I went primed to find something, of course I didn't. Since I struck out at White Horse, I went on down to Anderson. There was little Depression Glass, but lots of depression-era cookware, my secondary thing. I found two Glasbake casserole dishes, one a 1.5 quart in excellent condition that I bought from a very nice Mennonite lady for $3. The other probably 1 quart (I don't have a book on the kitchenware) that was very cute. It had a chip on one handle, but I only paid $2 for it. I rejected two Sapphire Blue Fire King pie plates (one a pie plate/casserole lid) just because I had them already.

Glasbake 1.5 quart casserole by McKee Glass, circa 1917-1953

By the time I got home from the flea market, I was starving. I ate some lunch and fooled around on the computer for a while, doing a fairly extensive husband search for the tri-state area on Bear411. No dice. I took a wee nappie.

Eventually I decided I had procrastinated long enough, and started getting ready. I was going to take another artichoke dip to the party tonight, and hadn't even gotten the stuff from the store. It was 4pm, and I was supposed to be ready at 6. About the time I started panicking, an unexpected friend showed up for an impromptu visit. While a very pleasant interlude, it put me even further behind the 8-ball on time.

After he left, I literally ran through the grocery store, ran home, and jumped in the shower. I put my dip together, straightened up the house, and got ready in an hour and seven minutes. Russ and Billy were then 30 minutes late picking me up. But at least I was ready when they got here.

We got to the party and I threw the dip in the oven and commenced to socialize. All my favorites were there. Karen and I hung out for a bit. I managed to call her husband by the wrong name, despite knowing them for years. Names are just my bane. Kimbely and Laura were there. Of course I adore them. It's always good to see Dan'l and Jim, but they were too busy hosting to spend much time talking to any one person.

The view from one corner of the porch. I'm talking to Karen. The gorgeous Scot, Simon, is holding forth with his back to me, which I just really didn't mind a bit.

I eventually went inside and took the dip out of the oven. I was a bit worried that it wouldn't be eaten. It was going slowly at first, and it came out a bit late in the party. Not to worry. When I went to pick up my dish before we left, it was clean. I asked Jim if they had thrown the rest away, and he told me that it had been devoured. Three different people asked me for the recipe. Donnie took one bite, stomped like Mr Ed, picked up a frying pan, swung it at me, and yelled "FUCK YOU!" LOL

I wandered back out to the cool people section, and Nicole joined me n the porch swing. We were swinging, chatting, and generally just having a lovely time when it happened. THE FREAKING SWING BROKE! Other than being startled and embarrassed half to death though, no damage was done. Except to the swing. And Nicole's nerves. Thank goodness it broke on Nicole's side and not mine!

The broken swing. Note the left side of the swing (the right in this picture) is the one on the ground.

The offending eye-bolt, obligingly held for the camera by the beloved and talented Laura. Apparently this bolt just pulled out of the rafter it was screwed into.

In all seriousness, though, the swing should have been eye-bolted through a rafter with a nut and washer on the other side. It's a wonder it stayed in as long as it did. Nicole, bless her heart, was mortified. Billy didn't help. When Nicole said "That swing is supposed to hold a lot of weight!" Billy quipped, "It did... For a while." He is so hateful. I love him.

Russ on the porch as the party was winding down.

The party started winding down then. It was as if everyone knew the crash of the porch swing was the climax. Plus it was getting late and the party had started at 5pm. People were ready to go. We left about quarter after 12.

For some reason though, Russ and I had the munchies, despite all the food we had eaten at the party. He started talking about waffles, and then all I could think about was waffles. We detoured into the Awful Waffle for a pecan waffle, extra crispy.

They have a dollar menu now at the Waffle House!! Who knew?

My extra-crispy pecan waffle, about a minute after it hit the table.

My extra-crispy pecan waffle about 5 minutes after it hit the table.

I hadn't wanted to leave the party really when we left. I had double-pantsed in expectation of the cold weather, and was quite happy and toasty on the porch, but Russ and Billy were freezing. I had also been in the midst of a 5-hour energy that hadn't yet worn off. But 5 minutes after opening my jaws like a yawning anaconda and shoving an entire pecan waffle down my gullet, all I could think about was my comfy bed. We rode the rest of the way home in drowsy silence through the drizzly, misty streets. I was really glad I wasn't driving. I would have had a hard time keeping my eyes open, much less keeping alert. I'm like a puppy. Get my tummy full, and I'm ready for the zzzzz's.