Getting to Know You

I invited Lurch, LittleBro (Lurch's little brother, who, at this point deserves a name), Nanny, and Musician over for dinner tonight. They all accepted, but Musician said he'd hate to eat and run, but he had a family thing tonight (he lives with his brother and sister-in-law). I reassured him that it would be ok, and he was more than welcome to join us. He accepted.

Nanny and Musician were going to choir practice, so I came home to cook. I was planning on corn-on-the-cob and mashed potatoes, but when I got home I discovered I have just 3 ears of corn. Now, at some point in my college career I mastered higher math, and I can assure you that 3 ears of corn will not feed five people. Especially if one of them is Lurch. I decided to go with acorn squash. As I was baking the squash in preparation for adding the carmelized onions I discovered (much to my horror) that I was completely out of margarine. I called Lurch, certain he would have butter. Tragically, he didn't. I went across the hall to ask my lovely neighbors if they had butter, they didn't. Crud! I had no idea what I was going to do at this point.

I cooked and stewed about it for a while, then there was a knock at my door — Musician had arrived. I invited him in, then returned to the kitchen to monitor my cooking. He was loitering in the entry way, so I kind of hollered for him to come on in. He eventually did. As he wandered about my living room he asked me if I paint. Now, there is an easel set up, with a half painted canvas on it, and lots of painting throughout the room, oh, and right next to the easel is a shelf full of painting paraphernalia. Typically, when I get asked that question I reply, "No. I just have the stuff around as a conversation piece." I thought about doing so again. I changed my mind. "Uh, yeah," was all I said. I wonder if he caught that I was weighing my response. Who knows. He asked if I had done one painting in particular and when I answered to the affirmative he told me that he really liked it. As do I.

He eventually made his way into the kitchen and offered his assistance. I told him he could cut potatoes while I freaked out about not having butter. "Do you need me to go get some?" He offered.

"You carry it around in your car?"

"No, but I'm not opposed to going if your ox is in the mire."

I hemmed and hawed, and eventually gave in and let him go to the store for me. I feel really bad having someone break the Sabbath so I can have a nice dinner, but I really appreciate him doing it for me.

While he was leaving Nanny arrived, and let herself in, as is custom. Musician left, and upon returning knocked as he walked in. Good. I'm glad he feels comfortable doing that, already.

He resumed his admiration of my artwork, and I eventually pointed out my favorite piece. It happens to have a reed arrangement in front of it. He asked why I blocked it, and I told him that it was part of the statement, and blah blah blah. He asked what the statement of my decor was. You know, I don't think a single on of my friends who has walked in my house has asked me that question. I explained it to him, and he seemed genuinely interested as he listened. Then, he asked me, "Who's your favorite artist?" I couldn't think of a single artist. Well, Freida, but I hate her work. Eventually I came up with Dahli, but it took me a while.

As I went back to cooking he went back to exploring my living room. He looked at the books on my bookshelf, and actually read the titles of them. I glanced over as he was reading the titles on my feminism shelf. Particularly, Bitch. I glanced at Nanny, and kind of nodded in his direction. "I hear the Feminine Mystique is a good book," was all he said.

I smiled, "Thanks for not commenting on the other one. Seems that's the only one people ever notice."

"Bitch?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I haven't heard anything about it." At this point, dear reader, let's stop and ponder what he thinks about me. Last night at dinner I was talking to a friend of mine about a book I lent her (Do They Hear You When You Cry?) and how powerful it was. MapGuy, Lurch and Musician were sitting there and asked what it was about. That was actually started when MapGuy asked, "Who does 'They' refer to?" Assuming it was 'MEN'. I told him that it was, "us, everyone." Then explained the story-line. While so doing I tossed out the phrase "FGM" as if they would know it. I suppose I really didn't want to say "Female Genital Mutilation" at (a) dinner, and (2) Denny's. They did ask what it was, and I explained briefly, "female circumcision." The conversation eventually moved on. And, now, tonight, he's seeing a shelf full of feminist novels. Now, do I care that he knows I'm a feminist? Absolutely not! He'd learn it soon enough with out the aid of my bookshelf. If he's half the guy he seems to be he'll take time to get to know my brand of feminism before he judges me on it.

He also asked me to play Lydia (my cello) for him. I can't believe I actually did! It was terrible. I need to get back into practicing again. We had a really pleasant dinner, then he had to leave. He did give me a hug when he left, which was really nice of him. Oh, and he also gave me a hard time when I asked him to pick up margarine rather than butter. "You cook with margarine?" "Yeah, I can't eat butter." "Oh yeah. What about olive oil?" "I use olive oil a lot, but I don't think you guys want it on your mashed potatoes?" "Oh. I'll be right back."

Anyway, all-in-all, I think it was a really successful evening.