It was the real thing -- real mashed potatoes, real green beans someone had canned, real pie crust -- even real plates. I missed out on that great pink salad that's mostly whipped cream and cherry pie filling with a few marshmallows mixed in, but I made up for it with the pistachio version that was all the rage in the 70s after Watergate.
We had a great time at our table comparing pie choices. I'm a sucker for coconut cream, and Dave always goes for blueberry. Nancy had a piece that I'm convinced had every fruit in it except kiwi. Apparently pie is a secret of longevity because a friend kept pointing out very spry people who were well into their nineties.
But, as always, the best part was laughing and talking with friends and playing "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" with the decorative gourds.
It was a rare occasion in the city to go anywhere and see the same person twice. Now when we go out, I'm beginning to see people I know -- my fellow quilt guild members and one of our favorite auctioneers, although I almost missed him because he was out of uniform. That's as comforting a feeling as knowing church ladies will always make cranberry salad to go with the stuffing.
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