(no subject)

I have a quiet moment before the tumult of my stepfather's 80th begins. Soon my sister and I will be preparing fruit salad for fifty people and all of us will be working our way through the few last things that remain to be done for the 70-80 people we will see today. The reason it's quiet now is because the older generation have started the pick-up run for the pre-made food (mini-bagels, cake, vast arrays of salad including 2 types of potato salad) and we can't do anything till the fruit comes. We can't even chop vegies for the dips because they're arriving with the fruit.

This is a perfect moment to think about my mother. She is making sure this party is as kosher as it comes even though it means a lot more hassle. This is because she wants my stepfather's religious brother and my religious sister to be comfortable. There is no fish, because she wants me and *her* brother to be comfortable. And that's just the start. She has at least seventy guests and each of them has been allowed for. Diabetics, coeliacs, vegetarians, lactose intolerant will all find much food. We're the only ones she has completely avoided ingredients for or completely changed catering for, but that's because we're the extreme ones. Fish would be fatal for me and for my uncle, and my sister and brother in law would have nothing to eat except maybe those mini-bagels and uncut fruit if we were't Adass-level kosher.

What really impresses me about my mother is the way she assumes that this is all as it should be and is no extra work. And the way she wants to do everything. There is no fuss or drama, she just hoes in and does it. Two of her children staged a small coup last night (I won't put an innocent look in here, it would look too arch) and we now have a working list so that she won't be doing quite as much, but she would have, and gladly.

I felt I needed a moment to appreciate her. I'm pretty certain I don't appreciate her nearly often enough.

(no subject)

What did we eat today? Dips and then barbecue chicken and chops and sausages and steak with six types of salad (or was it eight?), mini bagels, bread rolls, tomato sauce, fizzy drinks, wine, beer. That sort of thing. Dessert was fruit salad with chocolate tofu icecream bars.

Afternoon tea was bigger than lunch. And so much later than it. Fully three hours. It was supposed to be earlier, but no-one was hungry enough. I was Tea-Maker General and only got to make forty cups - the wine from lunch lingered on the table. Afternoon tea wasn't that big. Truly. (Am I good at lying yet?) There was a giant birthday cake, five other types of cake, chips, big fruit platters, olives and marinated eggplant and capsicum and... I forget the rest. I do remember little fruit tarts and the most amazing layered chocolate cake. Slender layers of cake infiltrated by evilly rich chocolate cream and stacked 6 deep to reach a full inch and a half in height then sprinkled with cocoa. None left. Sorry. I didn't eat it all. Everyone ate it all.

I got to spend lots of quality time with my brothers and their wives, which was wonderful and far too rare. We have a new photo of the seven siblings, too long since the last one. And my oldest brother gave an awesome speech, starting "I have many good memories of my father's life. His marriage. His graduation." I missed my stepfather's graduation, but that last photo was at his marriage, seventeen years ago.

It was a *very* busy day and I'm still in cool-down mode. More people turned up at lunch than were invited. There was lots of food, but space was at a premium. We not only managed, but everyone had a great time.

One aunt kept announcing "I am 93 1/2" and then telling suitably adult relatives about her new boyfriend. I was not suitably adult and only got the announcement about her age.

The youngest present was Jackson, age two. I'm afraid I started a whole series of painter jokes by pointing out that together we were Jackson/Polack.

I could ramble on for ages. There were lots of sparkles. My brother being so fit and well so soon after his heart operation. My nephew (the one about whom we had major concerns so very recently) cooking *all* the meat to perfection with no undue stress. Two of my sisters moving as one on big job after big job and whooshing through them. One sister being mistaken for my mother. No-one mistaking me for anyone - though several didn't quite remember my name. A brother wanting me to sign a copy of my book. A very special quiet moment with my mother and three old family friends. Tray after tray after tray of cakes on a tablecloth on the double bed, waiting to be eaten. Seventy people crowded into a small area, buzzing with happiness.