There's a garden party at 11 this morning. Fog is blowing in from the Northwest, with a finger-freezing underbite. Gloves at the garden party means no finger food. We'll admire the apple blossoms and profusion of tulips with little visible puffs of approval.
Actually, it will be fun. Wry neighborhood people are coming, including my architect/photographer/sculptor handyperson, who is 6'5" and committed to irony. At some point, he and I will talk about plumbers because he is kind of shy and I, aging, become less social all the time, usually with a passable - if not good - excuse. As I have not previously discussed plumbers at a garden party, I can't predict whether the topic will drive away other would-be conversationalists or attract them. Probably the latter. None of us can afford to move so we're all "improving" our tired old homes. Did I mention that Bellinis will be on offer at the garden party?
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