Throwing a Summer Party!

I'm so sorry not to have blogged in a while. I've been very busy! I'm leaving town in early August, and there's just so much to do before then. That sounds like I'm up to my ears in arduous housework and getting my affairs in order. In fact, it's not like that. A lot of what I've got to do is much more pleasant: spending time with my friends, taking in as much of Montreal as possible, &c. One of the things on my "to do list" was throw a party. I can't believe I've been here a year and haven't thrown a big one yet.

So now I'm doing it. There will be old friends and more recent acquaintances (don't twirl your hat too fast), people I haven't seen in a while, and people I see every day. There will hopefully be a mixture of grad students, profs, and people who aren't academic at all (and therefore very cool, in my book).

The last party I gave was last July, after my cohort and I had successfully deposited our dissertations and before we all loaded up the U-hauls and went our separate ways. It was at the Marxist Shakespearean's house, also known as the Armstrong* (names have been changed to protect the innocent) Motel, because he goes away every summer and encourages his grad students to make use of his house. It's a nice place, full of antiquarian books and recent scholarly books, a very strange music collection (has anyone else heard the radical folk song "Stand up for Judas"?), and Wolf stove, and a kitchen full of white wine and condiments. And central air conditioning. Anyway, last summer (I can't believe it was only a year ago!) my two best friends and I made use of Armstrong Central quite a bit, doing our laundry there, cooling off in the heat, finishing our dissertations, cooking dinner, and throwing our final party. I actually don't remember much about that party, except that we were all trying to drink up all of our alcohol so we wouldn't have to move with any open bottles. And we were also all extremely exhausted. I think we had some absinthe, and there was an intense discussion about the merits of Philip Pullman over J.K. Rowling (which isn't even a contest, if you ask me). After that, it's a miracle I managed to stumble home at 3am, all of a block and half away down Conifer* Street.

I had forgotten how much fun it is to entertain. I love getting food ready and filling the house with people. Saffron, as usual, will spend most of it in the bathroom, closet, or under the bed. She'll probably venture out at the end when only a few people remain, poking her head around the corner of the bedroom door, just to make sure the coast is clear.

Here's hoping it will be loads of fun. I think relaxing and enjoying the company is probably key.