Keep your friends close. I mean it! Those who have been reading this blog for very long know that V and I are close. We talk almost everyday. We go way—waaaaay—back! That picture on the right is my fourth birthday party. That’s V on the left with me, the birthday girl, in the light-colored frock, both of us blowing party noise makers. She and I can both describe my birthday cake to you—it was a circus “Big Top” cake, and we were so very impressed with it.
Because of our long history, V knows things about me I’d rather you didn’t—no matter, I know some things about her, too, so my secrets are safe! And she is a loyal, wise friend; I never doubt that.
I don’t know what I’d do without V; she has been unbelievable support through the trials of my last couple of years.
And she’s non-judgmental, too!
Take the other night. On a whim and at last minute, I decided to have MIL and V and her husband, R, to dinner. Must try out that new grill, you know! Son and I began spiffing up the house and working some outside to prepare for guests, and everything went wrong. I have a Kubota tractor and two riding lawn mowers. MIL has a new fancy lawn mower. N.o.t o.n.e s.i.n.g.l.e. o.n.e. of these pieces of machinery would work! I had banged up MIL’s mower blade by hitting a hidden log. The other two won’t start, having yet to be fixed up after the winter. The tractor has a direly flat tire which won’t inflate. Got to figure that one out, both budget-wise and getting the tire replaced or fixed.
Therefore, we were having guests with overgrown yard, front and back. Oh, well.
I set about getting ready for dinner. We had purchased a rotisserie for my new grill. The plan was to poke that sucker through some Cornish hens and roast them, along with ears of corn. So, I hosed the considerable pollen off the back porch, cleaned up the tables and chairs out there, and squirted the grill really well, too. I had not purchased a cover yet, so it was “pollinated,” too.
I went to get the rotisserie and could not locate it. I recall that it was in the back of that Home Depot truck that was used to deliver the grill home. I asked Son. He helped me search…not on the front porch…not on the back porch…we looked everywhere. Finally, I decided I had left it at the store. No rotisserie chickens for us…never mind, I’d just grill them.
I went to light the grill with the auto-light feature. No dice. Over and over I tried. I stooped to figure out the problem—not rocket science. The guts were dripping with water. I had apparently drowned the grill in my zeal to get it clean.
So, it was back to oven-roasted. I got the chicks ready, the table set, and all went well. The hens were coming done just as our guests arrived. We visited a few minutes and pretty much went straight to the table. It was as we were sitting down that I noticed that R had to squeeze between the table and the standing ironing board and iron which I had meant to put away and had not quite gotten to it…
And, you know, as we bowed our head to give our thanks for our food, I found myself saying to God (to my guests’ chuckles), “And thank You for friends and mothers-in-law who will come to dinner and not care one whit if the lawn is mowed or the ironing board is put up!”
We had a grand time! The food was good, Son had someone to go shoot with him a few minutes outside, and the company and conversation was stellar. Not a tense thing about it.
All because of good friends.
As I closed the front door, having bid my friends “Good Night,” I sighed with contentment as I turned on my heel to head to bed…and spied the rotisserie leaned up in the corner of the dining room.
Ah, well; maybe next time! C