Thrown headlong back into what is possibly the busiest semester of my life, I found myself staring at the pile of dirty dishes and bottles scattered over the kitchen this morning as I watched my necessary cup of tea circle the microwave.
We’re sick. Something is going around between all of us. Ian has been carrying an orange bottle of cough syrup around for days. Emily, Hunter and I have sore throats. I am exhausted.
I woke up yesterday and my throat didn’t begin to relax nor the pain to ease until I’d had three cups of hot tea.
I sat with Hunter and Coupe in Coupe’s room as we watched the inauguration. I can honestly say that my eyes almost teared up. The fact that there was stumbling during the swearing in was endearing. The worse the wedding, the better the marriage, right?
Today, there are whispers of the closing of Guantanamo. People all over the world have a sense of relief. They’ve exhaled, finally.
Last night, I threw the best party I’ve ever thrown. Emily and I used our crock-pot for the first time to create a simplistic stew. I threw in a large piece of meat and some broth and as it slowly cooked, I added potatoes. Emily’s contribution was onions and at seven, we spooned it out into bowls for everyone. It was delicious. Hunter cut the meat and divided it amongst us.
We dressed up. I wore my suit. Emily wore a black dress. The boys wore suits. It was a classy affair at the beginning. The amount of people in our apartment swelled and swelled. People from Loyola came as did people from Columbia. Emily’s dad dropped in with some wine. I had two glasses, but as the exhaustion overcame me, I felt the need to police the party, which I was told could be heard down the street. I closed the windows, though, which seemed to help and denied all requests for music.
I kept an eye on the recycling and on the guests, making sure that everyone had what they needed.
We bought a cheesecake at Costco the other night, and I cut up strawberries and blueberries to put on it. The top of the cheesecake became a peace sign crafted out of strawberries and the sides were ringed with blueberries. How patriotic.
Cheese and crackers completed the attempt at mild sophistication.
I tried to go to bed at 11.
The party was raging on the other side of my wall, though, and at one point, I was called back into the chaos. My mood shifted and I found myself cranky. As everyone left, I played mom and began cleaning.
Overall, however, one of the best parties of the year.
I hope you found Aretha Franklin’s hat as amusing as we did.
This week has killed me. Since I got back, I haven’t had a chance to breathe. Classes, work, so much work, Simon, Hunter, Emily, the apartment…time is moving quicker than we’d like to think.
Soon enough I’ll be 21.
The invitation is still standing. My apartment. Chicago. May 18, 2009.
And there may be a chance that Hunter will join me for Easter. Slight because he will most likely be on family vacation, but still a chance.
Upton Sinclair calls.