I'll fill you in online, because when you get here, I'll be so silly and hysterical that I'll forget everything until after you're gone.
- The bathroom is just inside the back door. It wasn't our idea. Really.
- People hate our toilet. When you sit down, the seat kind of slides. So, sit down gingerly. Delicately even.
- The other thing you don't want is for your sweater to fall into the toilet water during your stay. For that I suggest a size 6 boys sweater.
- If I forget to tell you where the wine glasses are; they are either on the china cabinet under the dining room window, or in the cupboard. Please open up any and all cupboards if you are looking for something. I'm totally cool with that.
- Notice that the bannister has been painted. It was one of my goals before my third annual ugly sweater party. Also, please don't notice that the wall behind the bannister still hasn't been painted. I'll likely crumble. Then there's that whole blog post issue, and none of us want that. (the one where I get all melancholy and you have to read my navel gazing for many days and nights)
- Also, it wasn't my idea to have a tv in the living room. So, try not to notice that either.
- if you've never been to my palatial palace before, please come to the back door.
Don't forget that when you are priveleged enough to receive an invitation to an event as prestigious as this.... there are a few unspoken expectations. Here they are again, just in case your etiquette is left wanting.
- This is a BYOB/W/G/S/S/A* (bring your own beer/wine/gin/snack/sweater/appetizer. Real glasses will be provided, as will toiletting facilities. Seating is limited, but will be provided nonetheless. And yes, I'm referring to the fact that I have only one bathroom.
- Brian is going to make some sort of wonderful appetizer for us. He's good at that sort of thing. And of course, I'll have wine and some other sorts of fluid type things. (sure, we host a lot of dinners and things at our house; but he's the chef department, and I'm housekeeping.... And he's not invited; being male and all) All that to say-- Don't expect Groaning Board standards or anything.
- if its not too cold on Saturday (hah!), I happen to have a fifteen foot long church pew in my garage, and about three boxes of petro canada wine glasses that would make excellent sound effects when we empty them, then throw them at a target. If you have any unspent hostility, you are welcome to bring along photos or symbols of the object of your disgust. We will center them on the target and rain glass shard terror upon it.
- Re-reading that.... it appears that I am suggesting that we would throw the glasses at the pew. I so didn't mean that. I was thinking more along the lines of sitting on the pew in our toasty sweaters, sipping wine, then casually tossing emptied glasses at a target.
- My husband is not allowed to bring the kids home at all, so that means that there won't be any of that perceived awkwardness when the children come home and go upstairs to bed. People sometimes mistake that as a cue that the party is winding down and that they should go home. I hate that. So, this year we are calling it an all nighter.
- Not that I'm calling anyone geriatric or anything... but for any of you peri of totally menopausal types... Yes, I'll turn down the heat. Besides, we've got that whole cool down activity planned for the garage, so don't get your ovaries in a knot.
- You can check in any time you like (provided that its 7:00 pm-ish or later) but you can never leave.
- We don't have to be best of friends for you to consider yourself invited. That means all you local woomen who aren't sure if you are invited? you are. Less local? Invited too. I like all sorts of people, and I like people meeting people.
- You have to have a funny bone though, because these parties always get silly. The time always passes too quickly. Always.
- I'm already dreading that part.....
So, I might have been shopping at my local re-wash, re-use, regurgitate for an ugly sweater for my party which is coming up on Saturday the 13th at 7 pm at my house. I had my hopes set on a badly coloured acrylic find for this year's event- and preferably one that was undersized. Today in the boys "department", I found my gem. Picture the itchy, badly coloured sweater that your brother was forced to wear to the candlelight service in '72. The one that he scratched and snivveled through, just to get his bag of candy at the end; a just reward for memorizing that rhythmic piece of prose that made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever. It made no sense to the moms and grandparents in the stifling audience either, because he either whispered it into his turtleneck, or breathed it into the sound system at disturbing volumes.
In any case, I had a whale of a time stretching it over my head in the changeroom and discovering to my delight that it was several inches too short in the sleeves and midriff. Perfect for showcasing my tight, home of four fetuses belly. (not NOW, silly. I'm not pregnant with fourtuptables. I'm talking about back in the day... growing babies.... four times.)
The woman running the cash register was very, very pleased with my find. Not in the way that you and I are thinking. But in the "It's still 1972 in my brain, and you must be the best mother in the world to be buying that for your little boy".
I was sort of horrified.
But I kept my mouth shut.
Except for laughing, really, really loudly.
I'm sure she thought I was feeling joyful about the Christmas concerts that I would soon sit through, enjoying my precious son in his priceless sweater.
See you on the 13th!
(anyone need to know where I live? E-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org