Easter prep – for my memoir

Google Image

 

For a person "edging into eighty" (as I think my memoir will read, unless I wait too long), hosting a family Easter luncheon may--DOES--get in the way of other activities--writing, reading, doing taxes, working in the yard.

But on the positive side, when else does one's home--an old one, at that--get such a good going-over as when company is coming? Fan blades (ooh, the dust, cough, cough) must be cleaned since ventilation might be needed, depending on the weather. (They were.)

Leaves must be added to the pedestaled, oak dining table. Because some of the veneer had come loose, thus peeled off, the surface needed an underskirt, so two tablecloths, long enough to seat nine adults, had to be pulled out of either a buffet drawer or the linen closet. Done: white underneath, pastel-orange overlay. Easter/ spring color, yes?

Then, placemats with oranges, greens, red fruits and leaves. I happened to have a dozen of them, thanks to a long-ago gift which added to those I already had.

Now, for napkins—cloth. If I counted, there would be close to fifty of them. I chose colors that matched something in the mats: green, pink, blue, white, red, maroon, yellow. Each with its own napkin ring--another collection. I mixed them: crystal, metal pears, metal French horns, china and wooden pears.

Next, the silverware. What a china-cabinet drawer full! Mom's, mine, and those a sister gave me--all matching--plus some sterling I'd bought at an estate sale back earlier. First, each piece must be polished, plus serving utensils. Four pieces at each place equaled 48, each place setting matching. Done. All shining.

Dinnerware: white plates added, but inverted till the next day. Clean kitchen towels placed over each setting to keep out any dust or to discourage the cats from climbing on the table during the night.

Extra chairs wiped down and brought in for extra seating; oaken TV trays cleared off and set beside the chairs, laid as the other places and covered. Ready.

Due to the warm temp predicted, I covered the space heater with a gold cloth, then freshened the coffee-table bouquet, cleared off the buffet for desserts and ran the Swiffer over the hardwood floors one last time (forget any more dusting).

Choir call-time was 10:30. What wasn’t done wouldn’t get done. I was off and robed and singing.

I slipped out with two others after the anthem to have time to finish the food: warming those dishes that needed it, baking the chicken, making coffee, hiding dirty dishes in the dishwasher—those last minute things that help make an event smooth.

Sister brought sliders, salad (for the vegans), two kinds of dessert and rolls. Son-in-law contributed gumbo with rice. Sister-in-law brought black-eyed (or purple-hulled) peas, Daughter made deviled eggs (eggs from their chickens), Nephew/family brought chocolate-dipped strawberries and assorted fruit, and with my potato salad, mac-and-cheese, chips/cheese dip, and chicken, we were ready.

 

 

Our family tradition of singing the Wesley Grace might have made the angels smile and nod and perhaps give a thumbs-up on hearing such a great blessing with so much harmony.

 

 

Now, if you wonder why this piece has so much detail, it’ll likely be included in the aforementioned memoir of mine.