Wednesday, October 10

"would it be uncouth for my water to break on the steps of the Vancouver Club?"

Dinner at the fancy-pants club was fantastic! Everyone looked great and we were all on our best behaviour. I would have photos but in my pregnant state forgot to change the battery on my camera. The photo above is of the room we ate in... pretty fucking surreal. Sebastian was one of many young children in attendance and was amazingly well-behaved despite missing his afternoon nap. I enjoyed myself immensely, even though I was a little concerned that what I was writing off as false labour (that lasted the entire evening) might be more serious... turns out my gut was right and not just drunk off of turkey juice. Either way I was not about to let it stop me from gorging myself on everything in sight, I figured if it turned out to really be labour at least I would have eaten well beforehand.

The food was incredible - every single kind of holiday food you could imagine, plus a dessert table that included the requisite chocolate fountain. The homemade pumpkin pie lived up to the hype and was even served with fresh whipped cream... then there were the mini creme brulees, delicate chocolate mousse cups, raspberry tarts, something rich, unidentifiable and smothered in blueberries, and the heaps and heaps of stuff I did not have the pants space to try. While I doubt it will ever replace our traditional holiday dinners - where we gather around a meal where something has been burnt, something forgotten and always something spilled, traditional meals where the talk flows easily and comfortably and the distraction of a giant television screen is nearby - this holiday dinner was the perfect solution to our current state of familial upheaval.

My father takes possession of his new home next week and his normally impeccable abode is strewn with the detritus of moving and packing, Andrew's parents have only enough time in their new house to begin the long process of unpacking, and we, among other things, have been the somewhat reluctant* recipients of the excess of both moves.

I would, however, happily play the part of privileged daughter once or twice a year if it meant eating like that again...

*we *love* the shelving unit Andrew's parents have passed down to us - the energy and time it took to switch from our old furniture to the new, however, has left me frazzled and sore. But it is up, it is full, and on the bright side we sorted through some stuff that has been sitting since our own move last April.

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