"Gatz wants to go out tonight in Aix, do you want to go?"
"No, I'm fine, you go", as delightful images of a quiet night in alone danced through my head.
And then a few seconds later The Husband returned...
"But I don't want to go."
"Alright, then tell Gatz that you don't want to go."
And then a few minutes later he walked back in again...
"Gatz wants to know if he can come over for dinner tonight"
Huff and puff from me as I began to prepare to kiss my day of relaxation goodbye.
"And he wants to know if some other people can come too"
Huge huff and puff as I squared off against The Husband... "You mean Gatz wants me to throw him a dinner party, tonight?"
"And I'm guessing you have already told him yes"
Oh H - E - D O U B L E H O C K E Y S T I C K S !
So my day of relaxation went right down the pooper as I scrambled to throw together a dinner party in a few hours. What to cook... what to cook? I turned to Chow, my go to food source, and decided to channel my inner Betty Draper when I came across, recipes for your Mad Men party.
With only a few hours, a broken oven, and a stove top so tiny I can only cook one thing on it at a time, I whipped up deviled eggs with tarragon, tomato bruschetta, caesar salad (like the real one, with eggs and anchovies), and swedish meatballs. It was all very retro, but perfect because dinner parties are my forté (my modesty is astounding, isn't it?).
There we were at l'heure de l'apéro, The Croupier, her fiance, Honey Jr, Honey's Honey, The Husband, Fifty and me, all waiting for the guest of honor to arrive to celebrate his birthday plus one day, and he finally did, L A T E, but when he did, he had a bottle of La Chablisienne Chablis with him, the very same bottle that I had been ogling the night before at the bar au vin, but had decided was a little too pricey. But Gatz had remembered and brought it for me, and that's why he's my buddy and his tardiness forgiven.
And that my friends, is the story of how Gatz turned thirty and one day.