Lesson Learned

Let me tell you a little something about myself: I like to entertain.

When I was 12 years old, I planned a formal dinner party for my birthday – not just the menu, but the recipes to be used, the “mocktails” to be offered, the napkins to be put on the table, the timing of the dishes to be served. (I told you, I’ve always been this crazy.)

For New York Thanksgivings (when there was a huge crowd) I literally spent a month planning my menu and the timing and began making desserts a week in advance.

For the Walking Guilt Trip’s 60th birthday, I planned a whole surprise shebang at my place for OLD PEOPLE.

Let’s rephrase – I love to entertain.

So you may be surprised to hear that I planned nothing, NOTHING for the Unsupportive Louse’s post-thesis defense party.

But I was SO DAMN proud when, the first day of their stay, the Female Pill pulled out a stack of recipes and said, “I thought we’d make a couple little appetizers for the party on Saturday; we always just do the standards – chips and dips, those little mini-hot dogs, chicken wings, pizzas. Nothing special.”

I could smile and say, with sincerity, “That would be great.”

And when there were enough leftovers to feed all of Djibouti for a week, I felt asbolutely vindicated for having contributed precisely nothing to my own party.

I feel a lesson has been learned here. 1 point tallied for Penney. Only 999,627 to go.