I threw a little dinner party last night. A friend of mine actually came up with the idea after we attempted, and failed, to find a date to do an annual -- or is it? I can't remember if we did anything last year ... seems to me we didn't because I'd had knee surgery and all -- Christmas Cookie Exchange party.
I really need to schedule these things months out ... but I digress.
So, my friend sent out an invitation to a few of our mutual friends, and the party was underway!
I tend to go into party planner overload when I undertake these things. The reason being, I want to attempt to achieve a Barefoot Contessa-like atmosphere. She seems to do everything with such ease.
Shuck a few dozen oysters? No problem! (wait ... do you shuck oysters? I'm not sure on this account...)
Throw together a four course meal with homemade sorbet to cleanse your palate after each course? Forget about it! She's got this!
Of course, the Barefoot Contessa has a kitchen to die for ... my kitchen, I am sure, she would want to die when she viewed it....and she has years of gourmet chef experience...plus, let's be honest here, she owns a flat in France. I mean, come on! I feel as though the Parisian cooking bug just seeps into your pores when you eat at those cute, outdoor cafes and just hang out in one of those swanky Parisian flats.
Barefoot Contessa? Yeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh ... I ain't her!
Yesterday morning, while I was folding yet another load of laundry ... y'all, the laundry! ... fretting about how I was going to pull it all off, it struck me. My friends weren't coming to my house to be wildly impressed by my organizational skills or decorating skills or party planning skills. They were coming over here because they crave the fellowship of women just as much as I do!
It's likely there were dust bunnies floating around as we gathered around my living room ... some of us in camp chairs(!) ... classy, right? Likely people left with cat hair plastered to their butts. Their eyes were probably strained from the lack of lighting in my living room (I prefer to call it "mood lighting").
None of those things mattered. What mattered were the bonds strengthened ... the shared experiences had ... the fellowship over good food, drink, and laughter. The most important things can never be quantified or displayed in a beautifully laid out magazine story or blogged about or posted on Facebook. The most important things are happening in the moment and savored for a lifetime.