Again, I spent a good part of the day preparing my little dinner party. Made the orange cake--it wasn't too difficult--then the glaze that goes on it. For me, however, a lot of the appeal of cake is in the icing (or "frosting," as some say) and a glaze just isn't the same. I remembered I had some heavy cream left over from making the Irish Crème, so I whipped it up with sugar and vanilla to add.

It was almost 3:00 before I finished, as I had put off cleaning the bathroom. Did that and a few other chores, then sat down to play a game on this laptop. Also checked my email and Facebook, where I found this marvelous site:

https://www.boredpanda.com/butterfly-dresses-bibian-blue/?fbclid=IwAR1ISO5CHCUCpUj7hR8P27qk4VKWrosoltyo7sgIj5-am5dZDsrAbEn7eGw&utm

I'm just entranced by butterfly dresses and jokingly messaged Robyn, Betty's DIL, who's a customer, asking her to make me one--they're gorgeous. 

Suzanne, Vickie, and Jim came, as planned, at 5:00, and we sat and chatted with appetizers and wine,  for twenty or so. That gave me time to heat up the angel chicken and cook the pasta (angel hair, of course), Suzanne brought a vegetable stir-fry (packaged, but good) and Vickie rolls, so I got them ready and we sat down. 

The main dish was really good. I served it, as directed, over the pasta, but potatoes or even toast could easily be substituted. As for the cake--yes, yummy, yum, yum, but I'm still glad I provided the whipped cream, too. I was surprised and amused when Suzanne whipped out three candles and put them on the cake, then all three sang the birthday song.  Vickie gave me a four-pack of champagne, which Jim and I enjoyed after dinner. Here's a pic; too bad I didn't think to take one before we ate:

Note that on the bench behind Suzanne, there are cards and gifts (little potted succulent plants) for all three that damn, I completely forgot to give S. and V. (When I got up just now at 6:00, I left Suzanne's at her door and later, I'll do the same at Vickie's.) Jim stayed longer and I did give him his. He got a kick out of the card, in which I wrote a take-off on Descartes, the philosopher who wrote, "I think, therefore I I am."  (I started with, "I stink, therefore I should bathe," and so on.) I was invited to dinner on the twenty-third (Friday) at The Townehouse and asked Jim if he wanted to go. Yes, he does, so we'll do that. 

Suzanne left about 6:30 (she's usually the first to leave a gathering), but Vickie and Jim  stayed for another forty-five or so and we had a good time talking.  After they left, I stowed the leftovers, packed the dishwasher, and otherwise cleaned up. While doing that, an errant thought occurred to me: I remembered that Betty often entertained (before and after Wes died) in her big house on Atlantic Avenue. It wasn't unusual for her to have twenty people for dinner and almost always, she would say goodbye to the last of  her guests, then go to bed, facing the disarray for the next morning. I could never do that in a million years, but could there be some clue there re Alzheimer's? I keep searching, which is a fool's errant, of course.