Wednesday, April 4, 2012

How We Do, and How We Do

This weekend we're hosting a Passover seder as well as Easter dinner. I agree, this sounds like a crack-addled enterprise. I'm operating on a solid two years of sleep deprivation, I think we all know I can't be trusted to have reasonable ideas. But the truth is, I'm not sweating it. I'm actually looking forward to it. Partly because I am not responsible for the cooking so much, everyone contributes, and the rest is dispatched with calm aplomb by the man of the house. Also it could be the soothing thought of the case of wine I purchased on my lunch break that's sitting in my trunk, ready for festive poppin' and sharing. Certainly it will be cramped and chaotic up in our joint, but that's never stopped us before. I like being in my own space and receiving people. I like that I can put my kid to bed in his own crib and maybe put on my stretchy pants and continue to hang out without worrying about transferring him or driving home. Sure there's the extra prep and clean-up, but everyone automatically pulls his and her weight and whatever's left is just housework. There's always gonna be housework. And really, this is why I have a house. So people can come to it and enjoy themselves.

When we were registering for our wedding presents like 500 years ago, I had no interest in a second set of dishes. I had a youthful contrary streak that resented the thought of doing something just because I should (as opposed to my current contrary streak?), had little storage space, and I'm a klutz besides. The lack of things like plates for 13 people didn't seem at all necessary (we did start out with service for 12, but that number has dropped over the years. Dropped by me, mostly) - that's why they make Chinet, right? But now that hosting has become something we do regularly and enjoy, I'm ready to invest in some entertaining-type things like a second set of dishes. I still have no storage to speak of and the klutz thing has only gotten worse, but it makes sense to me to invest in a simple set of real plates and bowls and cutlery instead of all the waste of disposable junk. I didn't realize that eating off plastic was something one formed an opinion about, but I went and formed one and it's not favorable. So maybe by the next holiday we'll be better set up, maybe not. It's not even the point, as the matzoh balls and chicken cutlets will not be one iota less the delicious, the company less warm and lively.

The point is, I don't wait around to have all the things I want or think I need before we do what I want to do. Messy and unmatched and go-with-the-flow and mishmashy is my style, anyway. It's descriptive of my life. When we stop having so many people who want to come around, that's when I'll get worried.

My house will not be "Passover perfect." There will be a ham in my refrigerator next to the farfel stuffing. Half of my guests will get to take in the beautiful view of a treadmill from their side of the dinner table. But my kid will get to run around with his cousins and be spoiled by his grandparents and aunts and uncles.  My sister and I will get to clink up a batch of mimosas in the morning while we're still in our pajamas. My back will kill me from sleeping on the floor in HR's room for two nights but who cares, who cares, who cares when we've got all the love, the special kind of family love that can make you absolutely crazy but is absolutely worth it.

Lucky doesn't even come within a hair's breadth of the tip of the tip of the descriptive iceberg. On that note, here's a prog classic to play you out.

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