by Dianne Boate

There was a terrible sound from the kitchen, an ominous chorus.  I took another sip of champagne, closed my eyes, and waited for the four folks in the kitchen to report their mischief. These well-meaning individuals had decided to cook up a spaghetti / meat sauce dinner-–(“You won’t have to do a thing, Dianne.”) Dianne wasn’t about to do anything, having cooked and baked her heart out for 12 people at a Stern Grove Concert Consular Corps Table picnic that day.

Continue reading →