Next week, my husband, Clif, will be turning 60, and tomorrow we are having a chili party to mark the big occasion. Our daughter Dee is coming from New York, and the South Portland contingent—our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike—will of course be there. We have also invited some good friends to help us celebrate.

The past two weeks have been a flurry of cleaning. If I were as good a housekeeper as my mother was, then there would have been no need for the flurry of cleaning because everything would have been clean all along. My mother was a legendary cleaner. Once, Mom won the services of a professional cleaner, and when that woman came to do her job, she took one look at my mom’s house and asked, “What am I supposed to clean?” Let’s just say that she would never ask that question in my house.

But I’m happy to say that the house looks pretty good. Still not as good as Mom’s, but not bad. Now, it’s on to the cooking. Yesterday I made a quadruple batch of crackers—the recipe is adapted from the one in Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian—and the crackers came out just the way I like—a dark, golden brown. Into a big tin they went to keep them fresh. I also roasted beets for the salad I’ll be making, which will also include lettuce, roasted almonds, and feta cheese. And I made a simple vinaigrette, using sage, oregano, mint, and rosemary from my garden.

So those things are done. Today is the day for my biggest challenge—the birthday cake. Cakes are not my strong suit, and it probably stems from the fact that I am somewhat indifferent to cake. It’s not that I dislike it, but when it comes to dessert, there are many choices I would make first, with pie being right at the top. (This might also explain why making pie crust is a snap for me.) Somehow, my cakes have a tendency to fall. However, there is one cake I have consistent success with, and, luckily it is one of Clif’s favorites—buttermilk spice cake. As soon as this post is written, I’ll be making that cake, and you can bet I’ll be praying to the cake gods to smile on me so that the cake doesn’t fall. (Quite sensibly, we have a Plan B: a cake from Whole Foods if my cake falls.)

After cake, there is a bit more cleaning, and then getting the ingredients ready for the chili. Then there is the cream cheese olive and rosemary spread to go with the crackers. A busy day!

I hope to get pictures of the food and the party tomorrow. When we have a party, I am usually distracted by my duties as hostess, and I might have my daughter Dee take pictures.

Now, onward to the cake!

Last Saturday, a fine September day complete with a glorious September blue sky, my husband, Clif and I headed to Marlborough, Massachusetts, to attend the wedding of Andrea Maddi, a young woman whom we have known since she was six years old. Andrea has been friends with our daughter Shannon all through the years, and we quite literally have watched her grow up. I always find these rites of passage very moving, even though it, of course, means that I am growing old. But the young are taking their place in the world, which is as it should be, and somehow this is a great comfort to me. We all move on.

Clif and I left early to head “south,” and like many Mainers, I am always a little nervous crossing the Piscataqua River Bridge, the big bridge out of Maine that goes from Kittery to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Conversely, it is always a great relief to cross that bridge back into Maine, to be coming home. I know. I am a hobbit by nature. Home is best.

The trip itself was uneventful. We didn’t get lost, we arrived with plenty of time to eat our lunch—yogurt, pretzels, and an apple—and change our clothes at the hotel where our daughter Shannon (the matron of honor in the wedding) and her husband, Mike, were staying.

Andrea and her husband, Ben Arnott, were married in a little white New England church with its very own steeple. The church was on a green, of course, and just up the road from a grist mill with a water wheel that proved to be the perfect spot for wedding photos.

Andrea, elegant as always, was a lovely bride. She and Ben were clearly thrilled to be getting married, and truly they both had a beautiful glow on their faces. No amount of money or trappings can compensate for this glow, which would make even the humblest place shine.

The reception was at a country club not far from the church, and readers, the food was very good, probably the best I have ever had at a wedding. Some of the delights included little crab cakes; chicken wrapped in phyllo dough; creamy squash soup; a basil, mozzarella, and tomato salad drizzled with a balsamic vinaigrette; and for Clif and me, tender, juicy fillet mignon, cooked just right. (There were two other main meal choices as well.)

During the meal, we sat next to a young man named Gordon Stocks IV. (His young son is Gordon Stocks V.) Gordon is the husband of Glenna, Andrea’s bridesmaid, and Gordon not only proved to be “a good eater,” cleaning his own plate as well as some from his wife’s plate, but he was also lively and engaging. In the course of our conversation we learned that Gordon owns his own tree service business. He’s the guy you call when a tree comes down in an inopportune place like, say, across your driveway or on the roof of your house. Or, if you’re smart, you call him to remove a tree before it falls someplace you’d rather not have it fall. If the tree is big and in a tight spot, Gordon climbs the tree to remove it piece by piece, which is why he can be both a good eater and very trim.

What interested me about Gordon and Glenna is how they have constructed their lives. Gordon has chosen a fairly nontraditional career. Let’s face it, not every young man wants to be spend his days shinnying up trees and splitting wood. But Gordon loves it, the challenges as well as the physical work. Glenna freelances as a graphic designer and also tends bar a couple of nights a week. This allows her to spend much of her time with her little son.

Early in their relationship, Glenna and Gordon bought a two-family house in town. Over time, this allowed them to buy five acres in the country and have a house built, where they did much of the work themselves. They have a garden and want to expand it as time goes on. Glenna, a girl after my own heart, would like to have chickens and other farm animals, too.

Through common sense, hard work, and careful planning, Glenna and Gordon are thriving in a time where it is not always easy to thrive. Not everyone could choose the path they have taken, but it certainly shows how with creativity, it is still possible for young couples to live a good life.

This, in turn, brings me back to Andrea and Ben. May they, too, thrive in these challenging times and live a good, creative life.

On Saturday, My husband, Clif, and I went to South Portland to visit our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike. We brought along our dog, Liam, and Saturday was one of those brilliant September days that gives the month its shining reputation—warm but not hot with a deep blue sky and nary a bit of humidity to mar things.

This beautiful Saturday especially felt like a gift as it was the day we celebrated my birthday. Because the weather was so fine, we could do two of my favorite things—eat outside (at the Lobster Shack in Cape Elizabeth) and take a walk on nearby Crescent Beach.

An aside: Even though I was born in central Maine, about 50 miles from the ocean, I have an affinity for the sea. Mountains have beauty and grandeur, but there is something about them that makes me uncomfortable. The seaside is where I want to be.

So to the ocean we went, eating fried clams, scallops, and lobster rolls on the large terrace at The Lobster Shack. Then, it was on to Kettle Cove where we could park the car and walk the length of Crescent Beach, which does indeed have a crescent-like curve. Rocks, a sapphire-blue ocean that glittered under the sun, the sound of the waves on the beach, the pungent smell of the mud left by the receding tide, the beach grass on the edge, Liam doing his best Sheltie prance up and down the beach, and the family all came together to make this one fine day.

After that, we went to Shannon and Mike’s for cake, ice cream, and presents. Who could ask for anything more? Well, there was one more thing I would have liked—to have our daughter Dee join us. But she lives in New York. As I’m fond of noting, if only she lived in Boston. But never mind! Even without daughter Dee, it was a splendid day.