Happy Fortieth!

I can’t believe it’s only been a week, but that was it. Seven days ago, I threw my parents a ‘happy fortieth wedding anniversary’ bar-b-q. The problem wasn’t the party. It’s the backlash, a full seven days later, and it’s as if I’m recovering from a major car accident.

True; a fortieth wedding anniversary isn’t a surprise. I should have seen it coming, at least since anniversary number thirty nine. They have made it this long, the chances were they would carry on together for another year. Regardless, my parents were going to stay home. Only on Wednesday night did they inform me they would be flying into town for the weekend, and that is when the realization hit - at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday - that Sunday night my parents would be needing a party, with forty of their closest friends and family to celebrate every year of their happiness. Being one of five children, this should have gone without a hitch. With many hands to help, we could have gotten it done. No such luck. All my siblings were busy and I was the fall back. In my house, all went into military mode. The children were given specific instructions (“don’t talk to mommy unless a limb is falling off - and it better be a major one”) and the count down started.

The kids were still on their summer break, so with forty hours to go, I took the “gantza mishpacha” (Yiddish for “large crowd of closely related individuals”) with me to Ikea to get supplies, candles and glass votives, paper light fixtures, napkins, serving dishes and blue wicker baskets. Then we went to the nursery and picked up thirty potted pansies, and then high-tailed it to the city to buy ten meters of red and white checked fabric. That concluded Thursday, two full tanks of gas, and all my energy.

On Friday, I went shopping: coal, extra bar-b-q, hotdogs, ground beef, steak, chicken, fixings for half a dozen salads and desserts. And then the search was on for the staff, if only I had one in place. I needed a cleaning lady to pick up after I had destroyed my kitchen, a babysitter to look after the kids, someone to man the bar-b-qs and someone on a keyboard to play music. As it turns out, everyone was available and, wit the exception of the music guy, everyone was also great. From now on, my line for shoes will henceforth be used for entertainers as well: don’t buy cheap, you will always be blistered and disappointed.

Sunday came, and my red, white and blue theme came together, and even the moon cooperated by being full and mincing my Ikea, line of round paper light fixtures in the yard. The bar-b-q and the cute guy manning it were a life saver. Besides marinating, I didn’t have to prepare a main dish. I was concerned about keeping the drinks cold, and not poisoning my guests with e-coli, so fridge space was at a premium. My solution, I filled my neighbour’s huge wheelbarrow with ice and pushed all the drinks in. The beer was frigid by the time the guests arrived.

I placed the salads, relishes, condiments and buns on a buffet table and people helped themselves. As the meat came off the grill, my husband offered it around.
As far as the salads were concerned, if anyone asked what they could do I told them to bring a salad. Sure there were three types of coleslaw, and two potato salads, but it became a cook-a-thon with my great aunts fighting the ‘did you have my coleslaw’ war.

For dessert, I cut up a huge watermelon. It was hiding at the bottom of the wheel barrow getting cold all night. I made my parents a mini wedding cake. It was “to die for”. I used the double chocolate layer cake recipe from www.epicurious.com, and separated the batter between, a nine-inch, six-inch and three-inch spring forms. I decorated the frosted cake with red grapes, and then placed forty candles on it. Sure we almost needed a fire extinguisher to put out the flames, but the look on my parent’s faces was worth it.

A few tips for a last minute party:

If you can’t prepare ahead, choose a menu that has the least fuss involved, like a bar-b-q, “make your own pizza”, or a taco bar.
If guests offer to help, take them up on it.
Use recipes you are familiar with. A party is not the time to start experimenting.
When decorating for a party think more, not less. This is supposed to be over the top, use a lot of one colour. Don’t use one or two candles per table, use ten or twelve. To create continuity, make sure everything matches.
Have enough chairs. This is not musical chairs, no one should be left standing in the middle.
Have an activity planned, just in case things get dull: music, a game, speeches, or public opening of gifts, but be just as prepared not to do anything if the conversation is flowing.
Children and adults alike love receiving welcoming or parting gifts. We gave out colourful fans and instructions on how to flirt while using a fan at the beginning of the night, so the August heat was tolerable in more ways than one.