My sister sent the below text yesterday:
Oh, these babies. They are so, so young. However, we are not.
This weekend Alex and I hosted a 70’s themed party for our West Dallas Palace crew complete with 70’s theme food and attire.
I am not sure how Alex’s kimono figured in, but at least he was in costume.
Why you ask? Because I love these appetizers that my grandma Jane used to make for her dinner parties made of Buddig beef, Claussen pickles and cream cheese. Oh I know they sound gross, but they are delicious. Alex also had a appetizer that his mom used to make where a green olive was wrapped in a mixture of cheddar cheese, butter and flour then baked.
So, we figured, if we have these gems hiding away, what must other people have? I sent out the call for everyone to bring a dish that their mothers/grandmother’s made. I am not being sexist, men did not cook then. Anyway, our friends dug the idea and we had such dishes as ambrosia, pot pies, a cheese ball, meatballs marinated in grape jelly and onion dip with ruffles. As my mom said, “everything processed. That was the 70’s”.
Hillary asked if we were dressing up and I, of course, jumped right on that. So did (most) everyone else. My favorite is Mike who came as a 1970’s Camero owner. As a previous two-time Camero owner himself, it was especially fitting. Though Jack as an aide to Nixon was clever.
We passed Zach off to Uncle Dave and Aunt Tami were he got to sleep in a fort, ride his bike to his favorite yogurt place and scare Tami by sticking his face in hers at 6:45 a.m. So he had a good night too. But James was with us. My sweet baby woke up with croup on Friday morning and was still not quite himself by Saturday night. Not that it stopped him from wrestling and karate chopping our party attendees.
As I was chatting with my friend KK about children, specifically how her daughter could avoid being swept up in the princess/tutu/everything pink that is all over the girls now a days it struck me that our moms were doing the same thing 30+ years ago. Back then it was an even more serious topic. While today the girls can wear all the pink they want, they legally have every right and privileges that boys do. Well, not in Texas, where the government wants to move into your uterus, but I digress.
Back then, our moms were fighting the fight to be a working woman, raising girls that would never know something they could NOT do; paving the way for us and our kale chips. And giving us the ability to put on a house coat, zip it up and roll cream cheese covered Buddig beef around a cold pickle without a second thought. Fight = won.