Buttermilk

I bring in the mail a magazine / catalog (roughly about 20 pages, or so) for a wealthy woman (or just notice it after it’s been brought in?). It is the Spring edition for ? The next day she receives the same, but it is the Fall edition. I am shocked, amazed, in wonderment, surprised, etc…. because we still had Spring and Summer to go through.

There is a dinner(?) party at a wealthy woman’s (same one?) home. My mom has been invited, so I take her. We arrive early as she likes to be early (she does). The settings are set, but no food yet. The living room that is connected has the same floor plan / configuration. I am sitting there by myself, observing the size of the room. I think to myself that this size could possibly be big enough (I want a house where people can walk around comfortably). Someone then invites me in to the dining area (to join, I’m thinking). I see a woman sitting at the far right end of the table ( not where the “head” sits, but next to on the right of). There is a pitcher (about the size of a carafe) in front of her filled with what appears to be buttermilk. She pours some in her glass, then sets the pitcher to her right between her setting and the one next to her, I perceive, as if it belongs to her. There is no one else at the table, but I think perhaps my mom is on the opposite side down by the left end.

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