My husband and I are entertainers. Not like, we perform or anything. We like to entertain as in have people over. Big parties. I cook. Jake liquors them up. Everyone leaves happy. My goal is to get you fat, Jake’s goal is to get you drunk. Fat, drunk people are happy people. And yes. That is exactly how we know which deadly sin we’re [most] guilty of: Gluttony. All the excess. Our house is one where you’re free of judgement or pressure. We want to take care of you. And to take care of your kids while you relax. Our goal is that everyone leaves feeling full, relaxed and warm. (Not actually fat or drunk. But again: No judgement.)
Everybody eats when they come to my house.
We’ve recently moved. Of course we have. We move all the freakin’ time, we’re military. Without question, the worst part of moving is losing your social life and having to rebuild it. Right now? I basically have no social circle. We have some friends that we get together with occasionally, and we have friends and family visit from where we grew up, about 7 hours away. But so far no friends that we regularly have over for dinner, who stay and play games with until well after my kids are asleep.
So the other night I had a friend over; the first time we’d had them over. And I over compensated. It was almost embarrassing. I made like a gazillion dishes. And, honestly, they were mostly all crap. It’s how I usually do things once it’s been a while: I put pressure on myself and end up forgetting an ingredient in the recipe. Or I make it too soon and it gets cold/warm/hard. It’s a side effect I have of the entertaining withdrawals. (Worthy of note, I think my husband’s also going though this because he bought ALL THE BEER and pushed like four different kinds of mixed drinks.)
So I’ve been buying foods for a Christmas party. Because I have parties. Except… I don’t have the people to entertain. Last night I made a 5lb pepercorn roast, a creamy sweet potato puree and balsamic glazed brussel Sprouts with whole grain rolls and honey butter. For my husband. On a Thursday night.
Someone please let me take care of them.
I’m starved for someone to entertain. Oh! I know! Preferably LOTS of someones. With lots of little problems, spread throughout several people so I can help. I just need a hot mess friend, or several friends with occasional hot mess days.
Because if I’m taking care of other people I’m not over thinking everything going on with me. And dude, I’m freakin’ crazy. Ain’t nobody got time for that project.