Mom and dad’s 50th anniversary is over, and I’m back home. They loved their pillow, but my camera unfortunately drew it’s final breath, so I didn’t get a picture of them (or anybody else for that matter).
It was a lovely celebration with just family and close friends. Both my parents gave speeches that made me cry, but that’s ok, it was happy tears. I got to cook the anniversary dinner with my dear sister, and we spent a really great time in mom’s kitchen. It was my sister’s recipe (which she, by the way, had not tried herself), and she had to leave to pick up her husband (1 of 22.000 crazy people who rode bicycles for more than 90 km in freezing rain and mud), so I had to finish up the cooking alone. I had no idea what to do, or how the food should be served, the meat took an hour less to cook than anticipated, we turned on the grill by accident and burned a pan of vegetables (strange kitchen, new cooker), the pan dried out, and my aunt and me had to make the gravy from whatever we had on hand, but, what the …, it turned out ok, and nobody had the guts to complain.
I am lucky; I have a big, colourful and loud family. I just love family celebrations!