When I lived in San Francisco we used to throw parties. Especially holiday parties. Both Stan and I did a stint in retail, so we always had great holiday clothes, and with Stan's brief turn in the corporate offices at Williams Sonoma, we had great tableware too. I mean, how many people in their mid 20s have 36 matched buffet plates? Well we did. I'd cook all day and have a huge array of finger foods, stock the bar and we'd "entertain." It was awesome. We both loved playing host, dressing up our house and spending time with people we cared about...or at least people who wanted to drink, eat and hang out.
Eventually I moved in with Mr. Dog and we hosted parties too. Even some at Stan's house. Holiday dinners, birthday parties, dinners for our SF family. Lots of social events, lots of celebrations. Our apartment was frequently filled with our friends, music, drinks and food.
A lot has changed. We've moved to Seattle, our house isn't so celebration friendly seeing how it is still a hodge podge of different DIY projects. I mean sure, we have had people over for dinner and host playdates, but a real party is out of the question.
In fact, we don't even go to parties much anymore. Maybe that's normal for parents of small kids or people our age, but still. I miss it.
The other missing element is Stan. He was always my co-host. See, Mr. Dave is great at parties, but he's less concerned about mastering the art of the perfect party than enjoying the celebratory environment (and a cocktail or two) created by two detail obsessed party planners hell bent on making a memorable event.
I hear there is a little party going on in SF this weekend. One that I only heard about by chance. I can't help but think back to a time when I'd be there helping mix the drinks, and that this year I didn't even rate in invite.
Pasta ala Fridge
12 years ago
1 comment:
you guys did throw brilliant parties
this wasn't a party like that at all, it was just a few people for costco wine and cheese on a Sunday afternoon. Everyone left by 9pm, and Mark and the kids and I were the stragglers.
Possibly because Mark accidentally ate part of a pot brownie.
Still, we missed you.
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