In the beginning, there was a group of friends. One friend said to the other “We should have a potluck Christmas party and it should rotate houses each year so that everyone gets to take turns hosting the party.”
So we did.
We had a Christmas party. And it rotated. And then it was our turn and Dan looked at me one day and said “I think we should make roast and yorkies for the Christmas party.” And I said “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
And that was three years ago and the party is still happening at our house. Because we love our friends and we love food. And White Elephant gift exchanges where you might walk away with something really awesome or really awful.
This year’s party was no exception.
It started several weeks ago when Dan ran to the grocery store to get milk for Joshua and came home with a standing rib roast which he carried around like a baby for a few minutes before putting it on my couch like it was part of the family. (Yes, it really was placed on my couch momentarily. I’m not sure why, exactly.)
Then began the preparations. The picking of the best date to accommodate the largest number of our friends. The suggesting of sides and desserts. The diabolical selection of White Elephant presents that would top gifts from previous years.
And the bickering between Dan and I and his obsessive planning and meticulous preparations and researching and “What do you think about doing X, Y, or Z this year instead of the A, B, and C we did last year?” and “What do you think about cooking the roast slow and low vs how we did it last year?” and the “what do you need me to clean up?” and the I-have-my-day-planned-to-the-minute plans my husband makes when it comes to cooking meat.
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| OCD much? |
The truth of the matter? I don’t care how he cooks the meat as long as I get to eat it but I indulge him in his planning because I know that he really, really enjoys this part of the process. And I enjoy wine. So it’s a win-win. (1 c. for him, the rest of the bottle for me! SCORE!)
Wait, where was I? Oh yeah. The party.
I spent the Saturday before the party sewing up a storm in an attempt to get my gifts finished, which meant that Sunday would be spent cleaning. Awesome. :/
So, Sunday morning, I woke up and Dan got breakfast and I popped half a Nuvigil (that little pill of magic given to me by the doctor who called me fat) and then It. Was. On. I was a cleaning, sewing, sweating MACHINE. I think my head was actually spinning at one point.
And then we both got stressed that things wouldn’t be ready on time and Dan was freaking because his roast wasn’t roasting according to schedule and I still had items in the dryer that I needed for the party and I knew that people would be arriving at any moment and AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! And I still wasn’t dressed and neither was Joshua and Dan was in a t-shirt and felt under-dressed and felt the need to change and did I mention people were due to start ringing my doorbell??
Crisis averted. And Joshua looked adorable.
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| My GOSH, I love a baby boy in argyle. |
But then all that stress was completely unfounded and not worth it. Because we had a great time. Just like I knew we would.
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| Food and friends. <3 |
Yes, Dan and I are on opposite ends of the table. He retrieved things from the kitchen and I retrieved Goldfish from the floor when they became toddler projectiles. And I’m not sure why I’m holding my wine glass like that.
Anyway.
The food? Spectacular. Even if the yorkies didn’t pop over and Dan had a near meltdown because of it. People brought side dishes and desserts and wine and we laughed. We laughed and we talked and we reminisced. We enjoyed a meal together. I have some of the best friends a girl could have.
And we played a round of White Elephant that sent someone home with this:
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| Why, yes, that IS a Howie Mandel bobblehead. |
And I like to think that people’s souls were a little lighter upon leaving.
I know mine was lighter after having spent an evening in the company of friends.