Suzy Says

Time to stop whining about my petty little problems and take a moment to think of Princess Margaret’s family. The Princess’s funeral was held at Windsor Castle this afternoon, 50 years to the day after her father’s. It must be so terrible for the Queen to lose her baby sister, and for the fragile Queen Mother to lose her youngest child.

I like the fact that the Princess maintained her considerable individuality and flair to the last, having the exact funeral service she wished, including music from Swan Lake, since she was a patron of the Royal Ballet and a life-long lover of the ballet; being carried by her own Scottish Regiment (the Princess was born in Scotland — the first royal birth in that country in 300 years); and finally, being cremated privately, with no family or friends in attendance, which is practically unheard-of in the Royal Family.

Her ashes will rest with her ancestors in St. George’s Chapel, including her beloved father.

Well, it’s the big day, when John’s parents arrive to visit us the first time ever. I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, though it’s hard to overcome my native superstition to think it’s all going to go great.

After days, or possibly even weeks of sunshine, the weather reports vary from rain through Tuesday to just rain all weekend, or some rain Saturday night…you get the picture. So the five days of the year when we really want to the weather to behave and show off the city, it’s being as perverse as I am. That sunset cruise of the Bay and night tour of Alcatraz will be just so much fun in the pouring rain.

I’ve had a busy and annoying week at work, in addition to the exhaustion induced by Operation House Beautiful not only occupying the past three or four weekends, but spilling over into the work week. I haven’t slept well for the past three nights, so am tired and grumpier than usual. It took me two attempts to make the top crust of the apple pie for dessert tonight, and on the second attempt, it acquired a 4 inch tear which I was able to repair, but it’s still in need of attention from a top plastic surgeon. There’s no doubt that one’s emotions do come out in one’s pastry. I’m beginning to think I’m going to make a horrible dinner tonight (menu is: lemon-herb roast chicken; Yukon Gold garlic mashed potatoes; asparagus; Suzy’s famous cheese biscuits; Frankenstein pie). I haven’t cooked for John’s parents in about 10 years, so no pressure there.

Then getting out the door this morning was beset with minor, gravity-induced disasters (John’s open bottle of water making a suicide leap for freedom off the living room desk; the crystal soap dish in the shape of a duck copying the water bottle and leaping to its death in the cast-iron bath tub, etc.), so we ended up taking a cab in to work to limit the lateness.

Only 6 hours until airport time.