Sunday, January 18, 2009
Last night we had a pizza party. We invited three couples and their infants over to dinner. I was busy sliding pizzas in and out of the oven and didn’t have a chance to take pictures while people were over. But I did snap one of the table before our guests arrived. The table is busy and looks a lot like a I Spy book.
Can you spy six matching forks (and seventh in the dishwasher)? Do you see seven matching margarita glasses and one aberrant blue rimmed one? How many different kinds of water glasses do you see? (Hint: there are spaghetti jars, beer glasses and two glasses with chips in their base). Can you tell our plates do not match? Do you spy a flour encrusted apron?
Can you see the garbage which provided a late night snack for the dog? Can you spy a throw rug hiding a blemished wood floor? Do you see the open spot in the hutch that belongs to the pitcher on the table? Do you see blank spots on the wall where two of our haphazard chairs normally sit?
My point is ... we had a perfect little dinner party in an imperfect house with imperfect dishware and imperfect decor. But it was perfect in it's imperfection.
No one appeared to notice our dishware or decorating discrepancies. And if they did they didn’t say anything. Why? Because it didn’t matter. What mattered was gathering. What mattered was friends and family. Yes, the dishes were helpful. What didn’t matter is that they came from the thrift store. And if it did matter? Well lets just say those people wouldn’t be our friends.
The most popular pizza of the night was date, prosciutto and goat cheese topped with basil and parmesan. I’ve got left overs if you want to stop by ... we’ll be watching the game. The door is open -- come on in!