We planned to set up tents and tables outside for the Communion party tomorrow, but here's the official forecast, courtesy of Channel 3: "Nasty, windy, wet, and raw."
No way will the weather get in the way of a good time. We'll put the tables inside and remove them after dinner, the way they do at Irish weddings to facilitate drinking and dancing. Can't promise anyone will launch into a reel in my living room, but let's just say we plan to have enough rye on hand to keep Peter's 100-year-old aunt happy.
I forgot to order the cake, by the way. What a knucklehead! I just hope I won't be stuck whipping up something from scratch; every Catholic family within a 40 mile radius has a kid making her First Communion tomorrow (Peter's brother will shuttle between our party and the Communion party for his wife's nephew in Stratford). The bakeries will be jammed.
And it'll be Derby day! My brother-in-law from New Jersey will surely show up in a new hat and take bets.
My aunt and uncle with the house with five bathrooms will here, too. To say I'm intimidated would be an understatement. Every window in their place gleams like a diamond, so I spent a good part of yesterday washing mine. Never get them quite gleamy, though. And there's a stain on the rug where some bright light spilled a cup of tea. Maybe that would be a good place to stick a dinner table.