Progressive Dinner

About 10 years ago our neighborhood changed.  No, we did not experience some flight to the suburbs as we already live in a near-in suburb, and it was not racially motivated as we are already one of the most diverse communities you can imagine (see posting on where to buy a goat to cook for dinner).  We experienced the downsizing and dying off of the original owners of the homes in the neighborhood.

For the first 20 years we lived here we were the "new" people.  Most people in the neighborhood were much older than us and their kids had long since left home.  We were raising babies and toddlers amongst the grandparents.  Then these older folks started selling their homes, or dying and having their kids sell their homes and we had an influx of young families.  By now, we were the old people as our kids were high school and college aged.  It was coming full circle.  With these new families came an energy that had never been present in the neighborhood before.   We now have an annual Easter egg hunt, a Halloween parade - complete with firetruck leading the way - and the progressive dinner (adults only).


For the progressive dinner we all gather a one home for appetizers and drinks.  It's quite a crush as we've had as many as 80 people participate.  Then we split into pre-assigned groups of 8-10 and move to separate homes for the main course, gathering later at a single home for desserts.  Everyone brings wine, beer, appetizers, desserts according to plan and we have a wonderful event.  One year I was the appetizer house, other years I've  done a main course, some years I just been a guest.  This year I volunteered for a main course and since it is going to be on St Patrick's Day I'm doing an Irish theme. 

I did a big St. P's party a few years ago so I have my menu all planned and know that it is easy to
do ahead.  We'll have corned beef (make ahead and slice when cold, heat in juices in oven until warm), colcannon (a mashed potato and cabbage or kale mix that can be made ahead and heated in oven) and roasted carrots (another oven dish).  I'll make some soda bread and buy some good rye bread and we'll be all set.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Today while shopping I stopped by the Nordstrom's ladies room. Nordstrom has two separate sides to the ladies room, one is the lounge and the other is the rest room.  The lounge is often used by new mothers resting or nursing their babies.  Today from the restroom I heard a baby crying which is not unusual.  As I left the restroom I glanced into the lounge and I saw a young father walking and bouncing the baby trying to comfort it.  Our eyes met, he smiled, I smiled, and the baby got quiet.  I guess they don't have a men's lounge for young fathers.

My daughter had breast cancer 5 years ago.  It was horrible, awful, scary, and all together overwhelming.  I had no idea what to do, how to help, or what to say.  Everything I did, or didn't do, was the wrong decision.  I will never forgive myself for being unable to figure out what she needed from me and to be able to give it to her.  I still am not certain what the right decisions would have been.

Now a friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer and I am trying again to figure out what I am supposed to do, or not do.  I'm a bit better this time because 1) she isn't my daughter and consequently I am less terrified, and 2) she's my age, and 3) we live in the same geographic area.  So the only thing I can think of to do is keep her busy and doing things  during the interminable waits between diagnosis, surgery, doctor's appointments, treatments.  So we go to movies, we stop for a glass of wine, we wander through lovely shops.  I still haven't figured out the whole talking thing, however.  What and how many questions cross the line from being interested and giving her an opportunity to talk to being nosey and prying?    I want to give her a safe place to talk but I'm not certain that I know how to do that.  So, tomorrow we are off to lunch and a great sale a trendy boutique and I'll try to read her cues and do my best, and I'll still probably feel that I have no idea what is the right thing to do.

I have not recently been inspired.  Politically, here in the Commonwealth of Virginia it seems that all the politicians have taken leave of their senses and it is too depressing to even comment on.  And on the home front things seem to be going well and I don't want to jinx anything by making an encouraging comment.  And my knitting is, well, fine.   I think that this may be the apocryphal calm-before-the-storm as next on my family agenda is nudging my father forward in his move to a retirement apartment.  He is 90 years old and lives in a multi-story house.  The time really has come for him to have a single story and have some food available that he does not have to cook for every meal.  We have a lovely, very upscale, retirement apartment building in our neighborhood and he already has friends living there so it is the perfect solution.  Now, can I just get him to actually put a deposit down and get on the waiting list for the two bedroom unit?  (I do hate thinking that I need for someone to die for him to get the larger unit but he will NEVER be happy in one bedroom and I want this to be a good move, not a move that dogs me the rest of my, or his, life.)  Naomi, at alittleredhen.com has kindly provided me some good suggestions on things I, and he, should consider as we plan this move and I encourage any of you with experience in this area to please chime in.  All help is greatly appreciated.

When walking to the beach I like to wave to the elderly residents sitting on their balconies so they they know that they are not invisible.

Watching Rick Santorum on "Meet the Press" may make my head explode.

Now for a laugh

Quote from Sheldon Cooper on the Big Bang Theory:   In the South, preadolescent children are forced through a process called cotillion, which indoctrinates them with all the social graces and dance skills needed to function in 18th century Vienna.


Both my children attended cotillion.  They claim it ruined their lives (or at least their Saturday evenings).  But if they ever end up in 18th century Vienna.......

It makes me laugh every time I hear it it.