A few weeks ago my sister had dinner at a friend’s house, and they had a real dinner. She told my mother, who instantly became so jealous that she immediately declared that SUNDAYS! WE WOULD DO FAMILY DINNERS TOGETHER ON SUNDAYS DO YOU HEAR ME YOU HAD BETTER BE HOME.
My response was a.) ookay, if this is like any number of other “family dinners” we’ve attempted to implement over the years, it might take on sometime around the time I turn 30, and b.) home? Where the hell do you think I would be?
But we’ve actually done it for a few weeks. Tonight I even made like a whole side dish and the dessert. Well. I made a cake for the dessert. And I assembled the whole thing. That totally counts, right? And it was angel food cake. Or, the hardest cake in the world to make because if you screw up and get a teensy bit of a yolk in there the batter literally starts to laugh at you as it turns into a lump at the bottom of the bowl and you have to go back to freaking Pick n’ Save because you used an entire dozen eggs per recipe and…I forget where I was going with that. But I’m feeling pretty darn accomplished.
(However, I don’t have an adorable Vera Bradley apron like my friend. I think that would have completed my domestic fantasy.)
Anyway. We use the real china and glasses and all that stuff that my grandmother and mother loved more than most people in their lives.
Oh, hey, eligible gentlemen- I come with my own set of Wedgewood. I know, right? INCENTIVE. I mean, I prefer to read than talk to people and I’ll probably be a horrible mother, but I can throw of a hell of a party for twelve.
I love it too, especially Waterford. It’s all pretty and shiny and I love the way wine looks in it- in fact, I love the way wine looks in it so much that I keep refilling my glass! And funny thing, the wine tastes better from the Waterford, too! No, it does!
So. This post, and that mother of a run-on sentence up there for that matter, were brought to you by genetic obsession with fine Irish glassware and my Irish/Polish blood that prefers to be a good 5% alcohol at all times.
My parents screwed me over so badly.