Ah, middle age...At a dinner party last week, a bunch of us females decided we'd put a feast together for St. Patrick's Day. Ronelle said she'd make the corned beef and cabbage, Clang is making soda bread, Paula's making dessert. She's an expert baker, and she's committed to bring us sour cream coconut cake.
That heavenly dessert is all I can think about because the main course, like so many ethnic dishes, is too much salt and too much fat, mostly cheap calories. Ceremonial purpose cooking.
I got an email this morning from Paula asking if I'd be home today so she could drop some stuff off... "Sure," I said. "It's going to be a great time tonight. I'll get off work early."
"Tonight?" she replied, "I thought St. Pat's is tomorrow night." She is seven years younger than me and is kind.
Ah, yes. Today is Monday, March 16th.
Quick recovery from me: "Well, then... even better. We can save the cake for that."
Paula said, "Good. Because I'm baking it tonight. And the dinner's at Ronelle's house."
I think I'm bringing an appetizer... or a salad... or... I hope I can just find the car keys.
