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9:20 p.m. - 2011-04-23
Company for dinner!!!!!!!!!!


How stoked am I that my wonderful, fantastic, love of my heart friend Miss Stephanie is coming for dinner tomorrow?

Oh, about 400 kilotons worth of stoked.

Plus she's bringing her mother, who I've not met, but it stands to reason that I will like her since her daughter is absolutely faboo. I'm sure Steph-Mom will get on like gangbusters with my MIL (aka: The Nicest Person EVER) too. So how great is tomorrow's get-together looking already?

Thank goodness I made about 60lbs of lasagna today. I refuse to get weird about serving my non-official lasagna to real Italian people. I know when Miss Steph and I get together food is about the last thing we're thinking about anyhow. Her company is my meat and drink and I can say with certainty that it's the same for her. If Steph-Mom likes it, then YAY! And if not I'm sure she'll at least get the satisfaction of knowing her authentic Italian cooking blows my poor efforts out of the water. Not that she'd be that catty, but you know what I mean. It's like when my non-writer friends give me their stuff to edit and beta-read. If it's good then I'm delighted and if it rots then I do my best to fix it and am reassured that just because everybody can write stuff down it doesn't make them writers.

Ditto about not sweating whether my house passes muster. It will be reasonably clean, of course, and (I hope) welcoming and comfy. But unlike when I was younger and far more uptight I am not going to stay up until the wee s'mas tonight using toothpicks to poke the last bit of dust out from beneath the baseboards. I know for my own self that when I visit friends unless there's a maggot-riddled rotting carcass in the middle of the floor I never notice how clean or tidy their homes are. I'm there to talk and laugh and just be with my friend.

Heh, lasagna. I don't make it often enough to judge accurately how much of any one ingredient I'll need and boy howdy did I go overboard. Ended up with an eggplant/peppers/sausage one in my huge 18"x24" roasting pan. A mushroom and sausage one in a 12"x18" pyrex and a mixy one of all the leftovers in my glass brownie pan. The last one I had Mick stick in the big freezer downstairs. The other two steroidal ones are in the fridge. I'll bake both tomorrow and insist that my guests take extremely generous doggie bags home with them. Miss Steph has to go back to work on Monday and I'm sure even 'meh' leftovers will be a nice thing to have on hand so she doesn't have to cook that night.

On another topic, the yard looks wonderful. Mick busted his butt out there for the past couple weeks and I have to give him snaps. The place hasn't looked this spiffy in years. He moved my Bathtub Madonna from her former perch on the raised front walk into the newly cleaned out lilac bower in the side yard. Mary and her grotto look terrific out there and I have a perfect view of her from the kitchen window. Which had been my intention all along. But after wrestling the weighty grotto and Mary (who's no lightweight herself) out of the car and onto the front walk above the peony bed last year Mick declared he was done hauling hernia-causing deities for me. Obviously he changed his mind. Very sweet of him. Not that Mary looked bad where she'd been, but out front I could only see her when going and coming via the driveway. Now I can tip a salute and say a quick hello several times a day. The Bathtub Madonna in the lilacs and Mary of the Eyebrows in my office seem to be okay sharing the duty of being LA's Protector Pals.

Why does LA the Atheist have Virgin statuary anyway? Why not? Besides, I've gone through this before. I spend the majority of my waking time alone. Which, trust me, I am VERY pleased about- my life has been overcrowded since ever, but I also like to bounce ideas and plans off somebody. Especially somebody who listens without an agenda of her own. My Marys fit the bill just fine. Symbols of motherhood and selfless giving, patience and understanding, calm in turmoil, how could I not find solace in their company?

Symbols have merit even without any complicated faith in their divinity attached to them. Think about how many people find peace walking along the shore of an ocean. Certainly nobody expects the ocean to magically swoop in and solve their problems. Far as I know except for a few cosmically stoned surfers nobody worships the high tide and believes kelp is a sacrament. Yet outside some seriously uptight religious types nobody has a beef with people finding heart's ease from spending time at the beach. So it is with The Marys.

Though tomorrow I will have my real-life friend to hug and talk and be with.

And her mom. And my husband. And my beautiful son. And my ever more vague FIL. And the best MIL who ever was.

Even heathens are blessed sometimes. ~LA

6 Wanna talk about it!

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