Some of the best things about parties

Usually, Steve has to drag me to parties. I don't like noise and I don't like crowds, especially of people I don't know. I don't always feel like getting "done up" to go out. (Hey, it takes some effort - and a fair amount of concealer - for this gal to look presentable!) Sometimes, I'm just lazy and antisocial and would rather stay home in my stretchy pants and veg. At least, that's how I feel before he drags my sorry arse out of the house.

Once I get there, it's a different matter. I almost always meet someone I really click with and discover a yummy new food that I hadn't tried before. I have a good time and am glad I went. I feel energized.

And, although we only do it once or twice a year, I do enjoy hosting a party. The great thing about hosting a party is that we know everyone there! Well, almost everyone. There are always some new people to get to know - spouses or the kids' friends. When I'm doing all the food, I enjoy finding new recipes (yes, I use my guests as guinea pigs) and getting all fussy with the presentation. When doing a potluck, I have less work and get to try new dishes again. And, when all is done, the food and drinks are cleared and the last guest has gone home, I get to enjoy a really clean house for a couple of days before all the crap I procrastinate about putting away starts to pile up again.

But I will confess to one deep anxiety about hosting our parties: no one showing up. This has actually happened to us a couple of times. Once, only two couples showed up to a party when we were prepared for about 20. (Lesson learned: ask for RSVPs.) (At that same party, all four guests turned their noses up at the home-made liver pate, which I hadn't considered all that exotic.) Another time, we had lots of RSVPs, but an ice storm blew through and only a few souls braved the slick roads to join us. They were treated to LOTS of food and drink!

Yesterday, we hosted a potluck to say farewell to our neighbours and friends. As "party hour" approached, I worried again that no one would show up. I reminded myself that most guests will courteously arrive a few minutes (at least) late, to allow the host those last few minutes of preparation. (They should know that an OCD couple like us was surely ready 15 minutes early.) Sure enough, within 15 minutes, the doorbell was ringing steadily and there was a cluster of people around the "bar." The music was playing, people from the different spheres of our lives were meeting each other and exchanging 30-second CVs. We caught up with some people we hadn't seen in too long and exchanged news and funny stories with people we'd been working or drinking with mere days earlier.

Steve, Peter, Emily, Brian and I had a great time. (Emily even had two of her girlfriends stay overnight afterwards.)

Today, the dust has settled. The house looks tidier than it has in many weeks. There are the silent echos of laughter and lively voices. And the inevitable leftovers. Reminders of the good time we had, and the good friends we'll miss.