a day full of people

One of my favorite treats is Bagel Sunday. It isn't a liturgical event like Palm Sunday or the first Sunday of Lent, but it is meaningful to me nonetheless. Once a month, everyone is invited to stay after the service for fresh bagels, cream cheese, coffee and juice. Let me tell you, these people can eat. Two sheet cakes (one chocolate, one white) joined the feeding frenzy in honor of the upcoming California-move of the Dunphey family. We are very sad about the move, but rejoice in the consolation of cake.
I raided the rhubarb patch in the early afternoon with thoughts of throwing together a dessert for company. We didn't officially invite people, but it happens. Nine assorted friends arrived in three different vehicles over the course of the afternoon. Our resident nine-year-old exclaimed, "Are we having a party, Aunt Nancy?"
"I guess so," I rejoined as I threw some on-hand chopped pears into the rhubarb mix. (This method is akin to stretching the soup.)
The toy basket was pulled out. A baby was admired thoroughly. Talk was thrown around of a farm for sale, a horse that was shedding its winter coat, and the baby dedication in church that morning. It rained on and off. Hubby escaped for a ten-minute shut-eye. A few kids played chase through the kitchen and guest room.
Finally, three teen-aged girls kidnapped me and #1 Daughter and took us to the mall. They forced us to buy three pairs of summer shorts (for #1 Daughter) and a summer jacket (for myself). Except for the forcing part, this is completely true. As quizzical as I was that these young whipper-snaps went out of their way to insist upon my company, I was happy to oblige.
The day wasn't over. At home, the company had dispersed. Hubby grilled a few steaks while I dashed together a large pasta salad. Extreme Home Makeover was showing in the back room while I took an hour-long phone call from Vermont. One more heartfelt conversation took place couch-side before retiring for the evening.
This was my kind of Sunday.