The Par-Tay

I sent Cathy on a two-hour mission to Ikea to buy chairs while I finished the pumpkin pie, dressing, stuffing, biscuits, mashed potatoes, and magical punch. I frantically cleaned and rearranged the entire house. I took a shower at the last minute, worried that I would still be dripping while greeting the early arrivers. There were, in fact, no early arrivers, which just gave me more time to plan the games for the party. When they finally did arrive I was given gift after gift in amazement. It's possible that I've never been that generous in my life. I surely didn't expect gifts from everyone. The punch I made was an instant hit, an homage to apple cider with very little of real apples in it. My rule of thumb was to mix enough apple juice, cinnamon powder, and vodka to drown a small village. I heated it up in a huge pot on the stove like some wizard's brew. Halfway through the party I forgot all of my friend's names. Lawrence from England drank and ate enough food to feed several families. His stomach gurgled loudly for the rest of the night. We played stupid games, watched Thanksgiving Friends episodes, and Spanish Ana smoked in exile on the balcony. Cathy and I planned our Christmas party in the corner.