They say it’s your birthday, but where the hell are ya?

We hosted darling mother-in-law’s birthday party at our house on Sunday. My day started with wiping up melted ice cream out of the bottom of my refrigerator and off the floor at 7 a.m. (before my first cup a coffee – not good). I didn’t realize a grocery bag mother-in-law dropped off the day before had two half gallons of ice cream in it. My fault – I should have checked. I thought it just had bags of salad.

Mother-in-law wanted us to go to her church with her on her birthday but didn’t tell us until after we arrived when the service let out (11:30 a.m.) or when the rest of the family was showing up at our house (12 noon). It takes 30 minutes to drive back to our house. Anyone notice a problem with this timeline? Even with leaving the service early, we still had our guests waiting in the driveway (and doing the potty dance) for 30 minutes.

I put the lasagna in the oven as soon as I got to the house - it was another two hours before we could eat. Thank heavens for the relish tray and multiple bags of potato chips. (…sigh…) This is the last time I allow mother-in-law to control the timeline when we are hosting an event.

Not Martha
I may not be Martha Stewart but I do have certain standards when I have company at my house.

1. Be at the house BEFORE guests arrive; don’t let them wander around the backyard like refugees.

2. Make sure bathroom facilities are available - having your guests die of ruptured bladders/colons will not get you a favorable mention in the society pages.

3. Don’t let guests starve or die of thirst; serve food/drinks in a reasonable amount of time.

4. No matter how much you want to, do not pummel the guest of honor with dinner rolls. Wack her upset the head with a frozen lasagna.

Playing around…
…of golf. (get your mind out of the gutter!) Hubby and I both had the day off today so we played the front 9 at Grand View Golf Course. A final wedge shot up hill, over a bunker and on to the green kept me from giving up the game completely.

The whiniest song ever written
Overheard this little toe tapper (not!) while eating lunch today with hubby in a local restaurant - Everyone else is having more sex than me. Sheesh! Romance is dead…

Your guess is as good as mine
The case of the missing bricks has been solved. A seven year old neighbor boy took them and tossed them down a nearby storm drain. We had just enough spare bricks to fix the wall.