Big Ass Mature Blonde [updated] -

Last month, she’d hired a jazz trio who set up in the bay window and played until midnight. The month before, a poet who read work so vivid and strange that even the youngest guests—her daughter’s art school friends, all elbows and irony—sat in rapt silence. For the winter solstice, she’d rolled back the Persian rugs and brought in a folk dance caller, and fifty people had learned to waltz badly but joyfully.

And oh, the parties. This was where the entertainment piece came in. big ass mature blonde

The evenings followed a rhythm she’d perfected over two years. Drinks at seven in the living room, where people could sprawl on the giant sofa or lean against the massive brick fireplace. Dinner at eight-thirty, served family style so that conversation flowed across the table like a river. Then, after the dishes were cleared, the entertainment began. Last month, she’d hired a jazz trio who

“It’s excessive,” her sister Diane had said, standing in the middle of the reclaimed oak floor, turning a slow circle. And oh, the parties