The invitations went out on Wednesday. My best friend was willing to sit around for a couple hours and stuff envelopes with me despite being in daily radiation treatment for highly treatable cancer, which I didn't take her up on. I somehow knew that 1) When someone has cancer it's time for them to impose on you, not vice versa, and, 2) it would be a nightmare that would require intimate knowledge of the addressees to accomplish. There were envelopes that had to be pulled aside because people are moving and I need some lag time, envelopes that need the "Kosher food available" insert, and there are envelopes for the people I'm still rebelling against inviting but somehow Husband invited them because they wandered in the carpet store in the last 6 months. No helper possible.
So the invitations are out and now all I have to worry about is whether anyone will come or if it'll be like the old Mary Tyler Moore show where she'd have a party and just Ted Baxter would come and she'd stand around for hour after agonizing hour talking to him. And, assuming people will come, I have to worry about whether any of the kids will dance, whether we'll go bankrupt paying for it, whether it's going to look like some garish American idiocy instead of the Jewish event I want it to look like. I can figure out a lot of things to worry about.
Instead, here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to keep bringing food to my best friend since she doesn't feel like eating and it turns out that all the garbage I feed my kids is exactly what she wants right now and what will keep her from wasting away to nothing, and then, somehow in the middle of her second infusion of chemotherapy, I am going to leave on a cruise with my family. Great timing.