Celebration...

 Every other Saturday, we have "family supper." It's a time to share a meal and touch base, keeping up with what is going down. Our daughter, her husband, and two wee daughters join us. Afterwards, the Owlet spends the night with us.

 Neighbor/friend Cheryl usually takes a seat at the table, along with Scott, our buddy for the last 20 years. It's generally a casual affair but includes some good chatting and laughs. Last night we invited my friend Megan and her new beau. Then Scott asked if his mom could come, too. We love her and were happy to have her at the table. Then Fields, who lives in North Carolina but has a winter job two hours from here at a resort, asked if she could come hang out. So, we had nine adults, a toddler, and an infant at the table. It was loud and crowded and delightful.

I cooked some spicy Mexican-inspired shredded chicken and some queso dip. Chris grilled steak and a pile of peppers and onions. Megan brought cilantro lime rice. Scott made his famous salsa. Cheryl brought a pineapple upside-down cake. Evans made some excellent slaw.  Fields arrived just in time to help me cook the tortillas. It is a job best accomplished with four hands. I rolled the disks, and Fields tossed them in a screaming hot cast iron skillet. We watched them puff, then she flipped them and stacked them in a bowl covered with a damp towel. We tucked them into a just-warm oven. 

At the crowded table, we passed platters of meat and vegetables, tortillas, and toppings. Everyone filled their plates. There was a lot of chatter and some quiet lulls when people ate happily. After dessert (which was delicious!), there was a whiskey tasting for those who liked the stuff. I do not. I held the baby, played with the Owlet, and listened happily to the cadence and rhythm of conversation as the tasters enjoyed experimenting with sips from the amazing variety of bottles. 

The Owlet was tired of socializing by nine and said, "Brush teeth. Read book." She announced a firm  "bye" to her mama and papa and scrambled upstairs. It amazes me how she embraces the Saturday routine. We had a story, a few songs, and some excellent snuggles, and then she slept until dawn, when her eyes flew open. "Wake up! Bacon!" She understands the best elements of a Sunday morning. 

Today was a quiet, lazy day. The whole weekend was an observance of family, food, and fun. A celebration of the finest kind.