Maggie's Farm is holding its first Engagement Party tomorrow.
Or I think that's what you might call it. But not really - it's actually sorta like a mini-wedding reception with a receiving line and all that, because the actual wedding will be way up in VT in the shadow of the couple's Alma Mater, good old Dartmouth College (also the Alma of the bride's Dad and late Grandpa, and of the groom's late lamented uncle) - and will be just closest family.
We have the old place sorta spruced up (finally moved the old broke fridges and generators off the front porch, for one thing, got the old duck boat off the front yard, yanked out the saplings growing out of the roof, threw out three year's worth of garbage, and cleaned most of the skeletons out of the coat closets), and I finally even warshed my overhalls, which I hated to do seein as they were just getting comfortable. Might even take a shower if the Missus insists, but I been told that dihydrogen monoxide is bad for you unless it has Cape Cod ocean mixed with it - which is the only dihydrogen monoxide solution I happily enter- and only if it is as cold as hell. (Soap and shampoo are chemical poisons too: consensus science tell us that, and everybody knows it.)
So we got the champagne and the other good booze like bourbon such as Grandpa's Overhalls and the crab cakes and scallop n' bacon thingies and barbecue sliders with dippin sauce (gotta have them) and the required basil-goat cheese tartlets and the apple-onion tartlets, hot mini-tortillas, and a bunch of other tasties on the way. Plus a couple of bartenders and a number of good wait staff, and a couple of off-duty cops to organize the parking because, despite the global warming crisis, most folks still insist on driving automobiles to get where they want to go (horses are too slow, and emit noise-polluting and criminal volumes of methane from their hindquarters).
As a last minute addition, I added a case of Chalk Hill cab to the mix because Gwynnie forced some on me last night against my will, and the fragrance of it blew me away (can be cellared for 15 years? Are you kidding me? How about for three weeks?). Hardly have to bother drinking it, it smells so good. The fragrance is a meal in itself. Why bother with the drinking part, which only makes you stupider than you already were?
The fortunate heir has all four of his grandparents coming, too, along with closest family friends and the whole darn family - including the bride-to-be's family who all flew up to Yankeeland from Birmingham, Alabama in the rain last night.
I hope it don't rain tomorry, because we planned mostly for outdoors, without any silly tent.
Do we love the gal? Yes indeedy we do. She is a peach.
