Progress is being made. The celery has been deveined (not my term). The rare roast beast slices are
arranged on the platters. The hoity toity ham is arranged on the platters. The cream cheese
coffeecakes that I baked Tuesday night and schlepped on Wednesday for Margaret's freezer are on
lovely glass plates. The cheese board is arranged. The strudels (apple and cherry from Margaret's
neighbor Laura) are arranged on the sideboard. The olives are placed. The grissini sticks are
settled in a tumbler for easy service. The cheese sticks are on a small plate. The lox is arranged
on its platters. The sausages are about to meet the knife. The party starts in two hours.
Sheryl has called and is snowed in. Terry arrived after 10 hours from OC to NYC -- via Buffalo for a
refueling stop, and what she referred to as a gypsy cab. Her term, not mine.
It's a pity there's not much food. It's 9:58 a.m. and Margaret has finished last evening's wine.
Tsk, tsk. Poor dear. "-)
The TaB is nearly gone, but The Blood Mary Meister is en route.
Sam was two yesterday and potty training began on Wednesday. M&Ms are powerful motivators.
It's good to be me. It sucks to be you. -Barb from Margaret's account