Scarlott Letters

Just some stuff I find funny…


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The Anal Retentive Hosstess

Last night Joe and I hosted our first, long overdue, Midland party.  It was a Super Bowl Party.  Denver and Seattle, playing in what should have been a close game…the best offense against the best defense.  As it turned out, it wasn’t much of a game at all with Seattle stomping Denver 43-8.  When the first play of the game is a safety, you kind of figure it’s going to be a long night.

Joe and I have been together almost 6 1/2 years and the very first event he ever invited me to was Sandra & Arthur Dragisic’s Christmas party.  At the time, I had not even met them, but it was on their front porch, right after Joe rang the doorbell, that I leaned over and whispered to him “By the way, I’m commando tonight.”  Whether I was telling the truth or not, the  look on my proper CPA’s face was worth the price of admission.  Right then, he should have known…

Since then, we have been to countless parties at the Dragisic’s and I have worn proper underclothes…mostly.  Sandra is the consummate hostess and her parties are beautiful.  She must have been born with an entertainment gene.  I was not.  As Sandra has gotten to know me better, she has subtly hinted that maybe it was my turn to host a party, such as, “Sherree’, when are you going to have a party at your house?  It’s your turn.”  It’s uncanny how she can ever so delicately plant an idea like that, and after three or four years of nagging gentle reminders, it comes to fruition.  It’s a gift, really.  But more to the point, she was right.  My turn was way overdue.

The reason it’s taken me this long to get around to it and the problem with me hosting parties, in general,  is that they turn me into a stark raving lunatic.  Call it a delightful quirk, if you will.  No really, please call it that.  It probably stems from the fact all of my friends keep tidy houses, and truthfully so do I, but when the topic of a party at our house comes up, Joe starts hunkering down for the onslaught.  He knows what’s coming.  I have never gone to someone’s house and thought to check out the baseboards.  I really couldn’t tell you if any of my friends even have baseboards.  When I attend a party, the only thing I’m interested in is enjoying time with my friends…and dessert.  But when the party is at my house, for some irrational reason, I think that every baseboard, every corner, every nook and cranny has to be spotless to the point that even someone suffering from OCD would tell me to lighten the hell up.  Add to the mix that we have a Corgi that sheds like running water and you can begin to see my dilemma.  Can you feel my pain?

I was determined that this time was going to be different.  I was not going to let a simple little Super Bowl party turn me into the Anal Retentive Chef on crack (if you don’t get that reference, you are too young to be reading this, so stop right now).  I thought about shaving the Corgi, but I was afraid people would mistake her for a potbelly pig.  I even briefly entertained the idea of wrapping her up in Saran Wrap or hooking her to a harness pulling a Swiffer behind her, but that seemed a bit crazy.  After all, these are my friends, the kind of friends I hope would feel at home putting their feet on the coffee table.  They all love dogs.  They won’t judge me if there’s a little dog hair on the floor.  What’s the big deal?  So, I did what any (in)sane person would do, and went out and bought a $600 Roomba robotic vacuum cleaner to deal with the dog hair.  I am nothing if not a problem solver.stadium

With that obstacle ticked off my list, I began researching Super Bowl party ideas on Pinterest.  That almost sent me over the edge.  Seriously, these people have way too much time on their hands. The picture accompanying this post is one such idea.  Are you f**king kidding me?  That stadium of meat is an inferiority complex waiting to happen.  Fortunately, saner heads prevailed.  Joe smoked a few pork tenderloins, I got the stuff for slider sandwiches, everyone else brought a snack or side, we stocked the bar…abracadabra, you have yourself a Super Bowl party.  And the best part, I kept my sanity.

I am a lucky girl.  I have friends scattered from one end of Texas to the other, and I love all of them.  Thanks to my Midland group for making the party fun in spite of the game and for ignoring any dog hair you saw!  You guys are the best!  I’ll leave you with one last piece of advice…if Sandra ever heads in your direction with “that” look in her eye, run.

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