Partaaaaay
Patrick has started brewing his own beer, which has led to his scattering increasingly odd-looking bits of random equipment throughout my apartment, as well as near-fetishistic discussion of various kinds of grains and hops. He doesn't brew the beer in my bathtub, but he does sanitize all his equipment in it, which is pretty awkward when it's Tuesday morning and I want to take a dang shower. I helped bottle the first batch, which involved a great deal of beer everywhere and led directly to the beer being christened "Kitchen Floor." After one recipe-based batch, he's already inventing his own blends, and making plans for a black pepper IPA, a cherry beer with the last of the local crop, and other exciting concoctions. In short, it's the perfect hobby for him! And I enjoy it too (delayed showers notwithstanding), since it's fantastic to see him so happy, and he lets me design the bottle labels. I love it when our strengths complement each other!
Now that Kitchen Floor has turned out so well, we are having a party to help us get rid of the 40+ bottles in my basement. I am kind of flipping out about this. My apartment is really small, and more than 15 people have already RSVP'd affirmatively. Patrick's parents are not the hosting type, and he's just a year out of college, so he's not too concerned about preparations. In contrast, my major models of entertaining are my parents, who held multiple cocktail parties throughout my childhood and even had a yearly gig as hosts of my dad's architecture firm's Christmas party. So to me, entertaining involves the transformation of the home into a showpiece. The whole place must be carefully cleaned beforehand, and candles and flowers must be procured and thoughtfully placed. It calls to mind carefully-prepared appetizers and colorful trays of meticulously-arranged vegetables. So I am freaking out, thinking things have to be perfect and working from a model that is based on home-owning, space-and-object-conscious architects who are much older than I am!
Time to scale my OCD back and examine what's really important. I need to think more about whether people will have fun stuff to do, and not worry about finding a taper candle for the new holder I got at the art fair. I need to see if we have enough chairs, and not spend time rearranging my tea tins. I need to make the food instead of adding to the menu. I mean, come on! It's a beer party for twentysomethings! Chill out, crazyface!
Now that Kitchen Floor has turned out so well, we are having a party to help us get rid of the 40+ bottles in my basement. I am kind of flipping out about this. My apartment is really small, and more than 15 people have already RSVP'd affirmatively. Patrick's parents are not the hosting type, and he's just a year out of college, so he's not too concerned about preparations. In contrast, my major models of entertaining are my parents, who held multiple cocktail parties throughout my childhood and even had a yearly gig as hosts of my dad's architecture firm's Christmas party. So to me, entertaining involves the transformation of the home into a showpiece. The whole place must be carefully cleaned beforehand, and candles and flowers must be procured and thoughtfully placed. It calls to mind carefully-prepared appetizers and colorful trays of meticulously-arranged vegetables. So I am freaking out, thinking things have to be perfect and working from a model that is based on home-owning, space-and-object-conscious architects who are much older than I am!
Time to scale my OCD back and examine what's really important. I need to think more about whether people will have fun stuff to do, and not worry about finding a taper candle for the new holder I got at the art fair. I need to see if we have enough chairs, and not spend time rearranging my tea tins. I need to make the food instead of adding to the menu. I mean, come on! It's a beer party for twentysomethings! Chill out, crazyface!