My husband and I were invited to a Pinterest Party on Saturday evening. To be honest, I rolled my eyes when I first received the invitation. Not at the party invite, but at myself.
Because I kind of suck at being a woman.
Due to the fact that I’m essentially a dude, I recently learned that a Pinterest Party is a party where you bring a food item you found the recipe for on Pinterest.
Sounds simple enough.
But I’m not a lady. And the entire idea of MAKING SOMETHING out of THE ORDINARY for A PARTY sounded like a fucking nightmare.
I’m not going to lie. I have an anxiety disorder, and cooking stresses me out. I tend to shy away from it. I try to learn more recipes to diversify my diet, but in the end, I could truly survive eating oatmeal or an English muffin three times a day. Anything that’s easy and doesn’t require a lot of ingredients or time.
And then I see all my lady friends on Facebook post how they made such-and-such and IT WAS SO DELICIOUS AND EASY OMG!!! And I feel like the biggest asshole of a wife.
Why can’t I be a LADY.
But every time I’m in front of the stove, nothing makes sense and everything is so MESSY and I NEED TO CLEAN IT NOW. Then I ruin the recipe by not timing everything right. And the broccoli or whatever is cold when I serve the piping hot entree. And then I need to heat the broccoli up in the microwave, which automatically makes it taste like shit, and then my entree is cold.
I can’t win.
So I was dreading this party because I knew, being myself, I would only make one stupid, easy, thing. And I would feel like the unladiest of the ladies because I wasn’t creative as everyone else and all the things they brought would be super awesome and they would think I was lame.
My husband can bake, which is a lifesaver. So he planned to make a couple of pastries to bring. But then he was sick all week and didn’t want to make everyone else sick with a contaminated dish.
So I quickly whipped up the easiest thing I could possibly make that is not out of the ordinary: Spinach Artichoke Dip.
And it was fine. It was good. People told me it was good. So what the fuck is my problem?
We drank. A lot. My friend Steve makes hot buttered rum every Christmas season, and every Christmas season we get wasted off of it.
My friend Lydia labeled everyone’s cup so we wouldn’t drink out of another person’s cup. On mine she wrote, “You’re Beautiful!” It honestly made my night.
There was a meteor shower later that night and we all gathered on the back deck of my friends’ Josh and Val’s house, marveling at the meteors dashing across the sky. While drinking hot buttered rum. And being pretty loud. Luckily, Josh and Val have nice neighbors who also enjoy tossing a few back.
I yelped at every meteor I saw, pointing so my friends could see them too. They did the same.
For whatever reason, I felt more alive the more meteors I saw. I savor such rare, natural wonders.