no luck with the potluck (m)

Last night, my husband and I hosted a potluck dinner for the tenth grade class of our younger son's school. 

While the event was held at our home, I did not arrange it.  The room mothers did that.  All I had to do, according to the original solicitation to host, was "open the doors to your home....we will do the rest."  Sounded good to me.

Why do this at all?  Well, our younger son Harrison has observed that we were totally into the parents at Sam's school, socializing with them regularly and, two years later, keeping in touch.  This sounded like an easy way to check the box and get some "parental involvement points" from Harrison.

I got the house cleaned on Thursday and spent Friday evening de-cluttering the counters....homework stuff, bills, newspapers, etc.

 By Saturday morning, the house looked ready to sell.  Since I had nothing to do with any food preparation, I was able to focus on the little things that usually escape my attention....flowers, serving utensils, etc.  Serving utensils!  I checked my inventory.  Nothing matched, most were chipped or dented. 

I went to Crate & Barrel in search of something to hold the plastic utensils (there was a selection of silverware "caddies"--who knew?) ; cheese spreaders, little knives and spoons (check, check) and some candle holders and candles.  Got wine stoppers because none of mine work. Saw a strainer that stretches across the sink so I could wash strawberries without making a mess. I never knew I always wanted one, but at that moment I had to have it. Got a timer.  It was persimmon and I liked the color.  I did not need a timer. Also, the Christmas ornaments were out.  Got a bunch of skate ornaments for H's friends. Picked up some extra wine glasses, too. My tablecloth was my husband's grandmother's.  Maybe I should get a new one? Got to checkout:  $286.  What???   Oh, well.  The last time I was there was eight years ago so I guess it makes sense.

Got home and washed the new stuff and arranged everything.

The landscapers never showed up, so my husband and I raked and blew leaves around by the front door and the outside patio. By 5 pm I was ready, but the event wasn't to start until 7.  The phone rings.  One of the mother's calls to say she isn't coming.  Her son is coming home from college for her daughter's birthday tomorrow ("your point?" I almost said).  She says (insincerely) she feels badly about not bringing whatever she was supposed to bring.  I ask what that was.  She says she doesn't know!  I check the list--cold appetizer.  I run out and buy carrots and hummus and salsa and chips.

The first guest arrives--with a few boxes of frozen appetizers.  Is your oven on?  Do you have a cookie sheet to put these on?  ( I almost said "do you want me to cook them and serve them and eat them for you, too?).

Someone else arrives with a huge pan of chicken.  Also goes in the oven.  The hot appetizer guest is the last to arrive---she has a bag full of Chinese appetizers and asks if I have a serving platter.  Everyone--all 38 of them--is in the kitchen.  I'm so confused.  I don't even know what the food selections are supposed to be.  People are mixing their custom concoctions of salad dressings.  I'm running around with a bum knee, looking like Quasimodo, opening wine bottles, trying to sort the appetizers from the entrees from the desserts and I'm so hot, my cheeks look sunburned. Someone comes up to me and tries to start a conversation.  I wanted to say: "are you kidding me?"

My husband turns on the music.  I don't pay attention to what's in the CD player until it occurs to me the room is quiet.  Shit.  It's the TimeLife collection of "Love Songs from the 1970's" and "Muskrat Love" (by Captain and Tennille) is playing.  Not cool.

We survive the dinner.  I had salad and some chicken.  Desserts were few but enough (I bought fruit salad).  I packed up everything and sent people home with all the fattening stuff.  One father stays and washes all 40 wine glasses.  I invited him for Christmas (he's Jewish).

We finished cleaning after midnight.  My knee was throbbing. 

Potluck.  Very funny.