Sunday was a sunny and only slightly cold day, perfect for hiking, but instead I was going down to DC for Margie's annual holiday bash. I'm always reluctant to be out anywhere late on Sundays as I have to work on fortifying myself for another week of 'way too early' starts at work. But Margie's parties cannot, and must not, ever be missed.
I picked up Rob on the way down, which was nice having some company and someone to enter the house with, and as every time I visit Margie, I found a parking space near her house immediately. I swear to God I have a Parking Angel that looks after me, because I even told Rob this would happen, and have to admit I didn't even think I was jinxing myself.
We entered her home to find a good crowd already in attendance. It's always lovely to see people you recognize and every time I look out for the regulars, particularly the faces I only see once a year at these parties. Margie had told us that her invitation list had been thinned down a lot so I was curious to see if anyone I knew was missing, and I was pleased to note that all the folks whose company I enjoyed had made the short list.
I plonked down my homemade sausage rolls and brandy chocolate liqueurs on the dining room table, grabbed a beer, and began my hello's.
Someone had brought this very impressive chocolate Capitol Building. A lady was about to embark on pulling it apart but I convinced her that it should left alone for a while so people could admire it. There were a lot of photo opportunities here. But it was tempting to hammer one's fist down on that dome, just to hear the satisfying crack as it collapsed. and everyone wanted to know how thick the chocolate was.
Even though Margie has thinned down her guest list, it was still packed. Richard and Emily were already here, poor Richard shooting me a 'rescue me' look as he faced a woman whom I shall call the Plastic Lady, since her face had been pulled so tight it was as smooth as a sheet as plastic, her features also stretched back, so far, that if she laid on her back it would likely look like her face was melting. I had to shuffle sideways to get anywhere, but resolutely pushed my way through to the kitchen, where I knew the turkey and stuffing would be. Grabbing a plate of food I headed back to the dining room and Emily, where we began a discussion on how to rescue our friend. But within a few seconds he was working his way over to us, a relieved look on his face, and he described his ordeal in which she'd been very openly chatting him up and just horrifying him in general. Pleased he was back on safe ground we turned our attention to the food, particularly to the brandy liqueurs and some lime and ginger cookies Emily had made. I was in the process of stuffing one of these into my mouth, in a hurry, since the base was breaking up, cookie crumbs and lumps were dropping onto the chair just to the side of me, which was then suddenly occupied by a lady in a skirt. I helplessly looked at Emily, unable to talk with no words being able to pass the huge mouthful I was working my hardest to reduce, and also, because of my sticky fingers, full of crumbling cookie, I'd been unable to clean the seat. I looked at Emily and looked at the lady, who by now was deep into conversation with another guest, and had to back away. There really was nothing that could be achieved at this stage, the damage was done, and so I took the coward's way out. But I didn't hear any woeful exclamations so can only hopefully assume the lady's skirt escaped unscathed.
After a couple of hours Rob and I walked to Stanley to see if he needed to be moved. I'd parked in a 2 hour zone so we studied his tires to see if any markings had been made by sneaky traffic wardens. It was also the perfect opportunity to smoke a cigar, which I hadn't done for a couple of years. We puffed and chatted, admiring the intricate brick designs of the homes around us, and I spotted this cat sticker on a car. That's a lot of felines in one home and we couldn't work out why there was a headless one, unless The Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland lived there also. We were also stunned to spot roses in bloom as well as a yellow flowering trumpet vine, no frosts yet in DC, obviously. Back at Margie's it was wonderful to enjoy her small patio, the sun shining down and the temperatures easily in the upper 50's. She feeds the local birds and it soon became apparent that they liked to hang out on the patio also, directly above our heads. We soon became nervous after a couple of 'missiles' narrowly missed us and decided to take refuge in the house, and leave the patio to the birds, who were definitely not going to move from their territory.
I managed to find an empty spot in the living room and snapped a selfie, smiling at the beautifully embroidered jacket flung over the back of a chair. I couldn't be sure if it belonged to a guest or was part of Margie's eclectic decor; it could so easily be part of either scenario. The tree was resplendent with small and very thoughtful gifts underneath that Margie had wrapped for her friends. I loved mine, a pottery plaque with the phrase, 'There's nothing like coming home to a loved one and hearing them meow', and two small cats painted on it.
The Plastic Lady had found another young lad to entrap. I purposefully have not included any photos of her, just in case of the very unlikely event of her reading this, I wouldn't want her to recognize herself. Jose seemed to be entranced with her despite the 50 year plus age gap and I watched them with amusement. But she was a little unsteady after a couple of hours and amazed us all when she decided to drive home. After walking the whole length of the street looking for her car, she found it, right in front of Margie's house. A very expensive Mercedes sports, which she trundled off in slowly, just as Jose, who'd been changing from shorts into trousers, came rushing out, distraught that he'd missed his opportunity of an expensive free dinner and Lord knows what else. We consoled him as best we could but he seemed annoyed more than upset and returned to the party with renewed energy.
I sauntered back to the kitchen to see if any new food had appeared and was met with three guests staring into the depths of a dark empty oven. I watched them curiously. Was this a primitive Christmas ritual? They were so engrossed with no words being passed among them that I hated to shatter their silence, and after observing them for a few seconds, regretfully left them to it, intending to return shortly and see what all the fuss had been about. But of course I forgot...
... because I spotted Jose and his new conquest. I watched them for a bit but it all seemed very low key and non-interesting so a commotion in the dining room drew me in there.
The State Capital was about to be demolished so Richard took a quick
snap of me pretending to take a bite, and then declared he'd be
Photoshopping something else in the picture later, drawing a barrage of
expletives from me. Someone else posted a shot of Margie with the building and its generous donor, and then it was broken into. And the chocolate was delicious, dark and creamy. I usually prefer milk chocolate but this was divine, and must have cost a fortune.
Sadly I had to leave early. Having parties on a Sunday isn't fair, and with my long drive back home and unearthly start in the morning, I had to take my leave. My maps app was telling me that with all the Sunday evening traffic it would take me two hours to get home. So we all had a toast with Margie's traditional Santa cups, the only time of the year when I consent to drink out of plastic willingly, and then I began the long trawl back home. But as I always say when I leave these parties, "Roll on next year!"
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