Love is in the air. While that is normally a spring thing, this late summer and fall has proved to be positively buzzing with it.

 A beautiful little flaxen haired boy that we all love. Unless his food is too hot and his mom has to withhold it until it cools off. Then he turns into a wailing banshee. It is hysterical and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Earlier this year a young friend had an unhappy relationship that ended. She dodged a bullet, as far as I am concerned. There was a cancelled wedding and an upheaval of life as she knew it. The positive of that relationship? A beautiful little flaxen haired boy that we all love. Unless his food is too hot and his mom has to withhold it until it cools off. Then he turns into a wailing banshee. It is hysterical and heartbreaking all at the same time. But I digress.

In the all-things-happen-exactly-as-they-are-supposed-to category, my young friend was reunited with her high school sweetheart earlier this year. Both older and wiser, they realized their feelings for each other were still strong. Cupid didn’t fail. On a beautiful sunny day at a stunning beach here in the Southcoast he proposed with a heart-shaped diamond designed especially for her. She said yes. We are all thrilled.

A young cousin was married in September. The story the maid of honor told at the reception about the bride and groom’s early interest in each other, and the maid of honor’s push to get my cousin to make a move ended with the maid of honor telling her at the time, “Who knows, you might end up marrying him.” And it was a kick-ass wedding and reception. She walked down the aisle to her brother playing a jazz standard on his saxophone. The venues, the Seaman’s Bethel and New Bedford Whaling Museum, were both interesting and beautiful, and the food was great. I’m a cake snob, and that was some awesome cake. But the best part for me was that the 88 year old matriarch of our family, the only aunt I have left on either side, was able to attend to see her granddaughter married.

I had the great pleasure, twenty-two years ago, to cater my oldest friend’s wedding. They live in England, and while I see her periodically when she is home to visit her folks it has been ten years since I have seen her husband. On sabbatical this semester he was able to accompany her to the states, and we got to see them for an overnight. In their youth they had lots of friends named Deb. We all received monikers based upon our specialties or habitats. There was a Debby Opera, a Debby Chicago, and I was Debby Food. I obviously have a reputation to uphold, so while they were guests at our house we ate. A lot. And really good stuff. The chicken and butternut squash I mentioned in an earlier blog for lunch; and a dinner of a delicious bistro-style tart with artichokes, gruyere, balsamic onions, and roasted peppers; grilled tuna steaks with tzatziki, pasta with homemade pesto and fresh tomatoes, and arugula salad with a rich mustard vinaigrette. And cake. The same carrot cake they enjoyed on their September wedding day 22 years ago.

Ah, love. Ain’t it grand?

Deborah