Saturday we had birthday celebration #32 for Doah. As usual, we all crowded into our local Pizza Factory, and they were ready for us with lots of pizza, drinks, and an open tab. It was a bit sad, though, because our priest, who has not been with us for several months now (see the sad, frustrating story here -- almost over, though, because the diocese has now established his innocence), was missing for the first time in four years. The mood, nonetheless, was festive and raucous. Everyone in the place knew that Doah was having a party, and he himself acted as master of ceremonies.
Did I think to take pictures? Nope! I had to have been quite dense about it all because I had my iPhone with me and was showing pictures from the past on it to everyone there. Oh, well, I will leave it to everyone's imagination to picture how it all went down.
Donnie ordered a cake from a local bakery. I think he must have been hungry because he showed up with a gigantic box. I asked him how many it would serve, and he said 60. Needless to say, after feeding all the party-goers, all the pizza makers, and all the other customers who wanted a piece of cake, we had quite a bit of leftover. Everyone took some cake home, and we still had leftovers. So, I will take a pan of cake over to the parish office later today. Someone has to help us devour all this icing-covered chocolate!
As we were sitting in the car after all the festivities had ended, getting ready to pull out of the parking lot, Noelle commented, "Do you think it would be a good idea to take the leftover cake off the hood of the car before we leave?" Ah, yeah! Really good idea!
Shades of Arlington cookies! Many years ago, when Professor Lizzie was a high school student, I made some cookies for a band booster fundraiser for Washington-Lee High School in Arlington, Virginia. (I believe they were edible although I have grave doubts as to whether they were tasty, considering the reputation of the cook.) I wrapped them in saran wrap, and we all dashed to the car for the short ride to the high school. That morning everyone waved at us along the way -- it was a real friendly morning. When we got to the high school parking lot, though, we found out that it was not actually a friendly morning, just a matter of kind folks trying to get our attention as we dashed from intersection to intersection, hoping that we would realize that they were pointing out the plate of saran-wrapped cookies, bouncing along with us on the roof of the car.