Perfect for the day

I had not planned on a party; that was the trouble.

There is something ridiculous about a woman who has collected so many dresses that they barely fit in her adequately sized closet, showing up at her own anniversary party with nothing to wear. But that is the position I was about to find myself in.

Every time I’ve come to Mexico, I’ve brought one especially nice dress. Every time, it has hung in my small closet in Mexico, untouched. The restaurants we go to just don’t require a serious dress. A nice pair of capris or a casual summer dress is much more appropriate for anywhere my husband, Peter, and I go.

But we hadn’t even thought about an anniversary party when we packed to leave for this trip. I distinctly remember looking at a lovely dress that takes up no space at all and thinking, “Is there any point in schlepping this all the way to Mexico?”

No, I decided. Wasted space, I decided. Then, a couple of weeks before our 10th anniversary, I suggested to Peter that maybe we should have a party. It was at night, so Peter was mostly asleep. I have found this is a good time to spring new ideas on Peter.

“A party?”

“Yes! An anniversary party!”

“Hmmm.” This might have sounded as if Peter was thinking it over, but I knew he was falling asleep. However, now that the subject had been broached, I could say the next morning:

“So! What do you think about the party we were talking about last night?”

Perhaps Peter’s subconscious had been at work, because he didn’t seem opposed to the idea in the morning. “No presents!” he said.

“No presents,” I agreed.

“I don’t like it being all about me,” he added.

“I don’t think it will be. We have a lot of friends here now, and a lot of them don’t know each other. I think it could be fun to introduce them. Plus, I think the hotel would enjoy throwing a party.”

This part, Peter knew, was true. Our chef, Daniel, is a very good cook. He loves to try new things out on us. But most days, he’s busy making hamburgers and enchiladas and french fries. Getting a chance to make something a little fancier for an invited party is exactly the kind of thing that gets him excited.

So Peter mentioned the still hypothetical party to a couple of people on his walk that day, and they said they’d love to come, and before he knew it, we had a plan. Then we started a list with everyone we’d like to invite.

“Maybe 16 people,” I told Chef Daniel.

“It could be up to 20,” I said a little later.

“No more than 25.”

“We have 25 confirmed. There might be a couple more…”

At that point, the entire indoor part of the restaurant was reserved for us and the menu was planned, and I ordered a very large chocolate cake. It looked as if the party was on.

And I still had nothing to wear.

Peter, who knows I own more dresses than any sensible person should, was not taking this mini clothing crisis seriously. So I decided to follow suit.

I went to the store that sold Indian imports, and I bought a very long, very bright, very unserious skirt. I will wear it with a string of shiny beads, and it will be perfect for the day – a day that is not especially serious and was not expected, but came together exactly as it should.

Till next time,

Carrie