1955

Sixty years and two days ago dear husband arrived in this world. Celebrated, of course, with family dinner at home.

No Rolex, or fancy cocktails for a hundred or so, simply flew two Boston MA girls home for his surprise.

Osso Bucco was a whole day affair, that with work and all. Thankful for good clothes, never had a chance to think about what to wear. Printed silk blouse (black lace bra underneath, something needs to be fancy), sleeves rolled up, ubiquitous blue jeans and flat black boots, good to go.

Went without the cliché of fresh flowers, this was a man’s party, and put three small pots of ivy down the table. (So much less than fresh flowers too, being January and broke and all). White tapers, this time no votives.

You’d think with a milestone like this for the man I love deeply I would have it together a bit more. Knew what I wanted and needed to do, took a deep breath, anxiety and all, and went forward. Had visual memories of three photos from recent travels, at 4 pm dropped them in a thumb drive, headed to Kinko’s FedEx and printed them out, and then to Target, I know I know, to grab a frame. Here it is ready for the red room, haha.

This is how it looked at 5 pm, and dinner was at 8: carrot cake baked, cream cheese frosting on the counter, haricot verts blanched, veal shanks wrapped and on a tray, onions out for the risotto. One great thing about doing things time and again is that you don’t really have to measure things like chopped vegetables: simply feel the amount needed for onion, celery, carrots, tomato, garlic. Spinach and artichoke dip to go with the champagne, and caesar salad for some more green.