Last night I went to a fabulous party. It was a neighborhood potluck hosted by Phyllis and Bill who were very kind to do all the hard work and planning. Potluck suppers are my favorite type party for a variety of reasons. First of all, there is the “pigginess” aspect - eating lots and lots of delicious food. You’re supposed to taste one of everything right? Then, of course, it’s fun to see what people bring. Many promises for recipe swaps were exchanged. In fact, I’ve got my heart set on getting a recipe for that pistachio dessert. Most of all, it’s wonderful that almost the whole neighborhood comes together to enjoy each other’s company. I see many of my neighbors daily out for a walk or for a quick chat out of a car window, but there’s nothing like sharing a meal together, and catching up on gossip.
It was also fun because we have lots of new young neighbors with young children. I’m in the unique position of having moved back to the neighborhood where I grew up. When my parents built their house it was a new neighborhood and everyone was young with young children. We moved here when Richard was two and there were lots of children. Then they all grew up, and for the past few years I’ve had to eat all the Halloween candy by myself.
Probably the funniest part of the evening was when we lined up by street address and quickly introduced our families. It went like this:
“Hi we live in the house with the Great Dane.”
“We’re the folks who live with beagles.”
“We’re the one’s with the sheepdog.”
And of course for us, “We’re the basset house.”
I took pimento cheese sandwiches and a peach dessert I’m still trying to name. I sampled three macaroni and cheeses, two baked beans dishes, several delicious salads and, well, I’m too embarrassed to say how many desserts. It’s possible a few others behaved as badly as I did. There did seem to be an increased number of neighborhood walkers this morning. Oh well, my policy has always been that if you fatten up the people around you, you look thinner.
I love my neighborhood
