Sunday fun days

of the sober sort commenced with wee canapés - delicate smoked salmon and cream cheesiness on thin crackers, and dainty caprese skewers. I'm moved to thank the Campanian prodigy who contrived the irresistibly fresh and tasty insalata caprese concoction of sugar plum tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and fresh basil. I'd the notion they'd be more tantalizing on skewers per below (before they were deftly drizzled with balsamic vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, sea salt, and black pepper). Thence we indulged in white 5-cheese chicken lasagna heartiness, and concluded the homemade cookery headliners with multi-layered tiramisu, which I exultantly ascertained is not as daunting of an epicurean feat as I had presumed! Yum-oh.Bushels of thanks to all the dear damsels and gallant gents who popped in for Sober Sunday!!!Following snapshot courtesy of Steph.Though it gladdens the dear roommate's and my hearts exponentially to have friendly folks over in such a manner on a biweekly basis, especially whence they allocate time to come from lands near and far, I'm disheartened to disclose that the forecast for subsequent Sober Sundays is looking a smidgen dire. Mass dinner partying shall be on hiatus for a spell, partly 'cause though 'twas ne'er my intention, I've thoroughly vexed our neighbor with our communal revelry o'er the months. More than thrice. To the point where he gave the LAPD a jingle to file a formal complaint. Twice. And our landlord foreshadowed our eviction if such ruckus were to persevere. I ought to just beckon them to attend the following Sober Sunday so y'all can win 'em over with your winsome charm.

But really, we don't want to exacerbate our tenant standing to teetering precariously off the brink of getting booted out. I must learn to love my neighbors (literally). Lord, please help. Good thing all things work together for good.

Sigh. There goes practicing hospitality.

At least for the time being.