Drama, then food, then spectacle.

Driving into town this morning to pick up some groceries, I saw geese, real Canada geese, on the river. I’d been hearing them flying overhead, thinking to myself, “Gosh, golly, gee, it’s late in the season to be hearing geese,” wondering perhaps if they’d decided to forego the long trek south this winter and stay here, where the grass is still sort of green. Who knows? Anyway, they were on the river.

The souper-spectacle last night was decidedly that. We got both supper and a show. But first, there was some interpersonal, intergenerational, bathroom drama, having to do with the fact that I had been asked earlier in the day when we had to leave for this shindig, and had replied to all askers (that would be my husband, my daughter and my son, in order of age) 5:45 p.m. I, ever the seeress, had taken my bath earlier in the afternoon, a nice long soak, as I am wont to do, so that I would not be monopolizing the facilities at the last possible minute (mind you, I did forget to put my makeup on until the last possible minute, but that doesn’t use either a sink or a shower).

So, anyway, as I was saying, at approximately 5:15 p.m., 30 minutes before our EDT, I hear sounds of conflict coming from the main bathroom where my husband was about to hop into the shower. My daughter, who had been doing other things all day (studying for a circuits exam, talking to friends online, surfing, etc) also wanted to shower, and was told to go downstairs (we have a fully-equipped guest room [hint, hint] with en suite facilities), so she did, after some argument, but there was no shampoo in the guest shower and she was reduced to using soap to wash her hair, which left it feeling decidedly weird. The drama happened as an argument erupted between my husband and my daughter, one in which names were called and voices were raised, culminating in doors slamming (well, just one door really) and me being told to “go away!” when I went to investigate.

They did eventually make up, giving me time to put on the necessary makeup, and we got away as I had hoped, arriving at the restaurant (La BaIadi, for those of you who know it) at the appointed hour, only to find that it was already packed, jam-packed, with people, and the maître d’ had to do some rearranging of patrons in order to get the four of us seats together at a table, except that they weren’t together, one was separated by a man who didn’t want to move because he preferred to sit en face de his conjointe. Oy, so much French. Never mind. Finally, after I pouted not so prettily and groused a little (Buddy Boy kept saying, “This really sucks”), our fellow tablemates worked out a way so that everyone got to sit together, and that was fine.

Supper was not great. I’ve eaten at this restaurant before, and it was pretty good, but I guess they were cooking for a huge quantity last night and quality control was not up to snuff. The appetizer was a plate of tabouleh, hummus, one felafel ball and a small green salad. The main course was a plate of rice with shish taouk (chicken on a skewer), and more salad. My husband and I, having warned the responsable that we were vegetarians, got something that looked like a larger serving of appetizer, except that there was rice and more felafel. Buddy Boy did not like the rice. He was quite vocal about that. I thought it was fine, but what do I know?

Between the main course and the dessert, my teacher and several of her advanced students performed, dancing in the narrow spaces between the long tables. Their costumes were spectacular. One dance involved two dancers, both wearing candelabras for headdresses, sporting a full complement of lit candles, and Lise ended up at our end of the room, twirling around with one candle in danger of falling, wax splattering everywhere. It was quite the spectacle.

Dessert was a piece of pistachio baklava and not terrible coffee, unfortunately served in a styrofoam cup. Unfortunately. After the last dance, Lise took over the microphone and started handing out presents, but we had to go, Little Princess having her circuits exam this morning and everything. It was a relief to get out of there, so many people packed together like sardines, talking loudly, the cooking odours, the overly-loud music. It was fun, but it was good to get home.

Speaking of home, as we speak, the plumber is here, at long last, having come at my call just this morning to fix the hot water tank which has not been giving us 60 gallons of hot water as it’s supposed to. It involved changing a burned-out element, and at present he is in my kitchen replacing the tap with the one I bought months and months and months ago, which Hubby has been saying he would get to (some day). I’m overjoyed. No more squealing! Yee haw!

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