Last night I had the best night of sleep that I can remember. I was exhausted and just like hunger is the best spice, exhaustion is the best soporific. Kipp had suffered a bout of coughing at 4:30 am that roused the household yesterday morning and we all just decided to stay up. Then I spent most of the long morning preparing for a small dinner party. I shopped; washed, ripped and dried lettuce for the salad; whisked up a lemon vinaigrette; pounded the cutlets for chicken piccata, and made the crème brulee. I set the table, washed the glassware, and made a CD of dinner music. By then, it was time to pick up Kipp from Kindergarten and my intended cat-nap never materialized.
The guests, friends of my husband whom I had never met, were coming from California so I was dubious as to whether my Minnesotan efforts would overwhelm or underwhelm them. I know that most people don’t care one way or the other, as long as someone else does the cooking, but I can’t help but fretting just a little. I want people to feel comfortable--not ill-at-ease with any sort of pretentiousness designed to impress, and yet not put-off by spotty utensils or glassware. Like most things, it’s important to strike the right note. It might sound odd, but I don’t usually pull out the Wedgwood (in spite of my resolution to use it more) until I know the degree to which people like to be fussed over.
So we used the everyday dishes. Also the everyday water goblets and wine glasses. To tell the truth, there’s only one set of water goblets and wine glasses. Having “everyday” be good enough for “special occasions” is a tremendous way to simplify life.
The dinner went fine. Our guests were friendly, down-to-earth, and neither vegetarians nor on diets. Whew. One never knows about people from California.
By the time it was all over and the dishwasher loaded, I could barely drag myself up the stairs. We had turned off the furnace in order to start a fire in the fireplace, so it was bracingly cool up in the attic bedrooms. I shimmied into flannel pants, a long nightshirt, a fresh pair of socks and slipped into bed. This has to be my favorite time of year, just for the pleasure of breathing the knife-cold air while staying warm and snug under the covers, and for the bliss of sleeping straight through the night.
3:20:56 PM 
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