Ah well, some days are like that. The menu for the tea party was not difficult, but did require a lot of fussy prep work mincing carrots, green beans, red bell pepper, red onion, celery, scallions, and a bit of garlic to mix with cream cheese to spread on thinly sliced whole-grain bread for triple-decker sandwiches (cut in triangles, lady-style, of course). Leeks sauteed at the same time, ready for ham-and-leek mini quiches to be baked just before tea time. I'd made gingerbread with brandy-soaked raisins and lemon custard bars a day ahead.
The kitchen was no hotter than any other room, so going to the living room was just to rest my legs. I would have picked the hottest day so far to throw a party, and why choose a Sunday? I knew it was a NASCAR day. Alternating between the chopping board and the race track, I cleaned up in the kitchen and set the table with pretty vintage dishes and a centerpiece of a miniature tea set.
And then Linda called. An emergency situation had arisen and she couldn't come. Crum.
Nothing for it but to carry on and pull out the vacuum cleaner. Swept about a six-foot square and the dad-ratted thing died. Are you kidding me?! Dead, deader than a door nail. (Evidently door nails, whatever they are, have a short life expectancy.) I lost incentive to dust and sat down to watch the race to the end.
Showered and in a dress (again!), I'd put the quiches in the oven and they were ready just as Camille and Honey drove up. Cam wore shorts and a lovely big-brimmed hat. She was ready for the tea party! Honey is up for any party that includes a cookie (milk bone). We waited for Arden. And waited. (Found out later that she'd written the wrong date on the calendar. Drat.) And then we opened the champagne and filled our plates and glasses while listening to rock-and-roll from the '60s and '70s, reminiscing about our lives back in the day.
Linda and Arden were certainly missed, but the food was a hit and Camille's company is always a pleasure. It was a hit-and-miss kind of day.