White Dog looked up in surprise. "We know SIX people who have birthdays in August?" she asked. I listed them off for her and she shook her head. WD and I were working on the plan for Steve's birthday in the middle of August.
Steve generally does not make a big deal of his birthday, family time and a special meal usually suits just fine. But this year has been so structured and focused as he finishes up his MBA, that we have had little opportunity to socialize or, as Bella put it, "Get up on two-legs and dance!"
This year he has agreed to a cookout that celebrates all of our circle's August Birthdays with everyone bringing a dish. The White Dog Army is excited because the yard is large and walled so our guest list includes two- and four-legged (and three, sorry, Wyatt) friends.
The response from our friends has been enthusiastic, seems we all need to just chill and mill. But White Dog, like her momma, is an organizer. We have begun a list of foods being brought so that we do not end up with 27 bowls of potato salad. The boys have made a list of yard cleanup that will need to be done; a list they will use to supervise Michael's contribution. Puff came up with a great suggestion to grill chicken as the main course, but added a clever twist...we will grill sliced and marinated chicken and it will be part of a make your own chicken tacos bar.
White Dog has my plastic card and is seriously shopping for Steve's gifts (she is the only one I trust to not order him a case of duck jerky...but still, I DID give her a limit after watching her click onto the Jaguar website). Taiko is in charge of the dessert table; I had to limit his choices to five or fewer, since he and Steve share a sweet tooth. He is struggling to narrow the possibilities.
The 16th of August is still down the road, but we have learned in the White Dog Army to strike when we have time and no demands are upon us. It is this momma's dream, and I know it is only a fantasy, that on party day, a perfect day dawns, everything is all set up and sparkling by noon, and at three we all calmly greet our guests in pretty little hostess aprons and hand them a chilled beverage complete with fancy ice cubes frozen with flower petals.
"That's just gross!" White Dog opined. "Thank dog, Martha Stewart is not on the guest list," I respond.