A Quick Report

So the monthly potluck was nice. We ate our spaghetti with Paul Newman's sauce and soft french bread slathered with garlic, salt and margarine, pretended that a pasta salad from the deli was an appropriate side dish, and remarked how wonderful it was that you could buy a complete salad in a bag with dressing and everything. I drank a glass from a good bottle of wine (the rest of which was kindly left here) and smiled and passed on the sweet stuff with the screw-on cap (the rest of which went home with its owner). After dinner we all agreed that the chocolate which could have been bought here was much better simply because it had traveled in some one's carry-on all the way from San Francisco. Okay, we didn't really talk about the food (except the chocolate). We just ate. The point is that none of my guests cook. Some of them don't even shop very well. But they are kind and wonderful people and I love them very much.

Then they left, the family watched a kiddie movie with me at my request, I took a physician-approved sleep aide and slept for 9 hours.