The comforts you defend
For my mother's birthday observed, my father organized her a surprise party. It went beautifully. She knew to expect my father's youngest brother and his wife and maybe me and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch; she was not expecting eighteen friends and family and enough food to feed several small armies, seriously, Redwall levels of provender, which my father had been secretly preparing in a friend's kitchen all week. The cake would have maybe had a firmer grasp on structural integrity had it been composed of only four layers of meringue, whipped cream, and strawberries instead of five, but it slid sideways so majestically after the first two slices were taken out—and was eaten just as delightedly whether in slices or scoops—it was worth it in performance art. People gave her scarves, sculptures, cards, books; my father had scanned pictures out of photo albums and printed them out to decorate the house. He had promised not to let my mother host her own party and although it took a little enforcement, I actually saw her sitting down and eating and talking with my godmother and some of her grad school friends. Guests helped heroically with the dishes. My niece hugged her Fox-cousin goodbye so hard at the end of the night, she lifted him off his feet. My mother's actual birthday is Monday and I think the plan is to just make her waffles.
spatch; she was not expecting eighteen friends and family and enough food to feed several small armies, seriously, Redwall levels of provender, which my father had been secretly preparing in a friend's kitchen all week. The cake would have maybe had a firmer grasp on structural integrity had it been composed of only four layers of meringue, whipped cream, and strawberries instead of five, but it slid sideways so majestically after the first two slices were taken out—and was eaten just as delightedly whether in slices or scoops—it was worth it in performance art. People gave her scarves, sculptures, cards, books; my father had scanned pictures out of photo albums and printed them out to decorate the house. He had promised not to let my mother host her own party and although it took a little enforcement, I actually saw her sitting down and eating and talking with my godmother and some of her grad school friends. Guests helped heroically with the dishes. My niece hugged her Fox-cousin goodbye so hard at the end of the night, she lifted him off his feet. My mother's actual birthday is Monday and I think the plan is to just make her waffles.
no subject
I'm so happy it came off. It was probably the best gift my father could have given her.
And the cake sounds Pisa-esque in the best possible way.
We did make the allusion!