13 At Dinner

So we cancelled Saturday's 90th Birthday Party for my Dad because of his indisposition; luckily he's feeling a bit better today.

And in place of 45 guests at That Old House, we ended up with 13 around our dining room table last evening: my sister and Howard's sister, with their husbands, 2 nieces, my 2 daughters and a boyfriend, and . . . my cousin Judy and her husband Edd, who live 2 hours away on Long Island.

Now why were Judy and Edd there?

Because I had forgotten to tell them
that my father's party was rescheduled for June 5th.

Oops.
They are good sports, bless them.

I managed a last-minute order from our wonderful and very patient caterer, and it turned out to be the least stressful dinner party ever. We ate a lot, laughed a lot, munched through 3 boxes of frozen Girl Scout cookies and 3 leftover Dunkin Donuts for dessert, and raised a glass, or three, to my Dad in absentia.

I didn't even think to take pictures.

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But Howard was out bright and early this morning,
snapping intimate shots of some of the Iris blossoms.

This purple fellow is next to the sunroom foundation.

Love that funky fringe-y thing -- blond with white roots.

Miss Orchid-and-White Iris blooms in the border along the stone wall behind the house.

Her fringe-y thing is quite spectacularly orange.

And because I am obsessed with our grapes, a peek:

Remember when the leaves were the same size as the tiny grape clusters?
Now the leaves are ju-mongous compared to the itsy bitsy grape babies.
We will have to strip out some leaves so the sun can reach the fruit.

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Dion had heard that 13 is an unlucky number at a dinner table, and he
was hoping that meant the Chicken Marsala would be dropped SPLAT
on the kitchen floor as the kids brought it in from the caterer.

Alas, it was not to be. Our 13 was plenty lucky.

And Dion had his own bit of luck; no bath!

Enjoy this spectacular Sunday. The days are really all spectacular, aren't they? -- Cass