Sunday, December 11

If music be the food of love, play on. [Twelfth Night]

Music, food, and love. Last night delivered everything I'd hoped for and more. 

I couldn't be happier with how the party turned out.

The punch, champagne, and wine were delicious and free flowing. The prime rib was garlicky, crisp on the outside and medium-rare on the inside, and gone -- all nine pounds of it! -- by the end of the evening. Guitars and singers and even a stockpot turned steel drum made an appearance later in the night. Most importantly, there was a very hearty helping of laughter sprinkled over everything. 

I want to do the night justice -- our families, and how much help we had, and how festive and fantastic everyone looked -- so I'll have to write up something when I'm not nodding off on the couch in sweatpants after eating french fries and leftover spice cake for dinner (I know). 

Full-disclosure: I ate four different kinds of cheese for lunch. Leftovers are seriously hazardous to your health.

Flowery posting will return tomorrow. With bells on.

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