Monday, July 21, 2014

The Pleasure of Your Company

Dear Hearts,

It has been my pleasure to host many a party in many an unexpected locale. For example, some of you will have been present years ago for the impromptu baby shower thrown for darling Fatima Malouf as our dahabiya floated serenely down the Nile towards Luxor.

I believe I may say in all modesty that the colorful banner (painted on one of my white silk scarves with a mix of lipsticks, eye shadow, and eyebrow pencils) that read YOU'RE GOING TO BE A MUMMY! was an inspired touch.

What is far more difficult even than procuring cream cakes and tea halfway up an Alp in a snowstorm (and yet, one has done it) is to play hostess from thousands of miles away. Yet that is the position in which I found myself when unforeseen circumstances stranded me in Tibet shortly before our yarns received their official launch in my own, dear Chicago.

In such circumstances, able lieutenants are invaluable. My marvelous collaborator Beth, and the delightful people of Windy Knitty, stepped right into my shoes (bespoke Italian silk, thank you for asking) and made sure all details were in place, from our card...

to the trunkfuls of colors with which to play...

I hear tell the shop overflowed with guests who arrived early and stayed late, always a happy sign. Of course, one must admit that the Pimm's Cup–mixed to Dash's own special recipe–may have been part of the attraction. I cannot say too much how gutted I was to have missed the party; nor how grateful I am to Windy Knitty for their hospitality, and all the knitters and crocheters for coming out to play.

By way of explanation and apology, I did of course send along a telegram.

Perfectly abominable behavior, even for a Yeti.

The lesson to be taken away, I suppose, is that when congenial hearts are determined there shall be a party, a party there shall be. You need neither fancy trappings nor ideal surroundings, only the desire to draw together and perhaps a cup of something nice.

Mind you, lots of drinks and piles of pretty new yarns don't hurt.

Yours Ever,
Mrs. Crosby