I went to a potluck dinner last night, the first this particular group has had in about two years. And it was so very good in so many ways.
Some of the women came from far away, 60 or so miles. This is their community. How hard is that? One of them spoke about losing her partner of 30 years, and living in a small community. Another spoke about seeing the first political signs from a certain party when she drove up to the house; in her community, all the signs are for one party, and no, that's not a party that's particularly friendly.
I have to think about that more when I feel cranky about this city, and be grateful that I don't have to drive 60 miles.
Next week, there's a fundraiser in town that involves people getting on a bus and going from house to house, eating one course of a multi-course dinner at each house. We're raising funds to help local women have the money to get abortions. (It's expensive, especially for women in areas such as this, where you have to travel a ways and do a 24 hour waiting thing.)
I have a great house for gatherings. It's a fine living house, but it really shines when you put 30 or more people in it and it's comfortable.
My friend A is a great cook. So, we decided to team up and use my house and A's cooking skills to participate.
Over the past several weeks, I've been working on de-uglifying the yard and cleaning house stuff that should be cleaned for a large contingent of guests. (Thus the office getting cleaned last week.) I dug up, split, and replanted some Siberian irises and daisies yesterday, and planted the last of the bulbs I got earlier this fall. Now I have some cutting back of plants as they die off for winter to take care of, but other than that (and cleaning leaves off the front stoop at the last moment), the outside is pretty good. I always seem to stretch the backs of my legs a lot when I garden, which probably means I should stretch them more. But right now, they're a little sore.
The inside needs some more cleaning. Today is cleaning the windows on my barrister bookshelves. I love barrister bookshelves (though, strictly speaking, mine are, I think, fake because they're not individual boxes), and mostly they do a good job keeping dust off books. And they just look cool.
And then there's grading, endless grading.
Meanwhile, A is planning the meal. There are, of course, some allergy and special eating requests. I'm glad A will figure those out, because I'd throw up my hands in confusion.
My weekend activities give some folks on the right wing nightmares, don't they?