Sunday was Mother's Day here. The maple syrup candy was well received, to say the least, and I found a card that says "Mom, you were right about everything" on the front and "there, I said it" on the inside, which sums up our relationship rather well.
That morning at church after the liturgy we had a little party in the hall, which was lovely. (There is a new family who just joined the parish, and the grandmother is absolutely brilliant at planning these things.) There was lunch and cake, and the pastor put on his go-to party music. It's a polka cd, and something of a parish joke by now. They also had a tray of these pretty drinks on the table, each with a strawberry in it. I couldn't tell whether they were iced tea or punch, but I was incredibly thirsty and didn't much care. So I picked one up and took a large sip.
It was wine.
This is where I mention that, while I am old enough to drink alcohol in almost every country in the world, the one I live in is not one of them.
Oops. It was quite a shock actually, to someone expecting iced tea.
But luckily one doesn't usually die of embarrasment, and I survived. I'm very glad I did, because I ended up going out to dinner with my family. Now, my poor dad has tried to take my mom out for Mother's Day nearly every year since I was born. Different places, different cities and states, but no matter what we end up doing it has always been a complete and utter disaster, often of grand proportions. Last year we tried staying in, and even that didn't go well.
So this year we decided to go to one of the local Thai restaurants, because it's close, the people are absolutely lovely and recognise us since we've been there so many times, and we hadn't tried it for Mother's Day yet. (It also happens to be my favourite restaurant in existence.) My dad called ahead to check if they were closed or packed. We got ourselves ready. We drove over. We arrived, were seated, and had dinner.
And nothing terrible occurred.
Miracles are real.
