Sunday, June 08, 2008

BBQ for friends who don't have rich cottage friends

Our friend Brian Howe asked me to throw a BBQ on Friday night - just a small gathering of our close friends. So I sent out a sentinel of e-mails, fb messages and txt messages to gather the troops. Three hours later, he tells me he has been invited to a "mansion cottage" with his girlfriend for the weekend. Sorry.

Undeterred, I decided to throw the bbq for those of us who cannot escape to mansion cottages during these hot summer weekends.

Hosting is new to me since I've never really lived in a place that could accommodate what you'd call a "dinner party". It's almost an existential struggle when we do these things ever since we discovered Stuff White People Like... even though I'm not white which makes it doubly weird for me.

Girlfriends

They gathered around the breakfast bar while we gossiped as Leann cut up her beautiful melons (ugh bad and old joke that just won't die already) and I made a salad completely by hand. I.E. I tore every leaf into neat bite size pieces; cut and washed every plum tomato and strawberry individually. I realize that my method could not have been any slower, but I found the process rather therapeutic. I am beginning to understand why people enjoy cooking for others. Something to do with feeding the people you care about with more than just sustenance but also with your energy and love.

Boyfriends

When I wasn't being all domestimacated, I accompanied our friend Wes on the piano while he gave us a lovely rendition of Let it Be and Hallelujah. Two of the four songs I know how to play based on chords rather than straight sheet music (the others are Such Great Heights and Hey Jude).

Damage Done
  • 2 lb rack of ribs
  • 4 lb of hamburger meat
  • 8 ounce steak
  • 1 sausage
  • 16 Burger-First PC hamburger buns
  • 1 head of ice burg lettuce
  • 1 box of plum tomatoes
  • 1 box of strawberries
  • 2 melons (cantaloupe and honeydew)
  • 2 bottles of wine (white and red)
  • 3 bottles of beer
  • 3 strongbows
Always there is Nostalgia

One of the catches of dating a guy and subsequently having friends who are all in their late 20's or early 30's is the fucking nostalgia. Everything from TV shows, cartoons and most especially music, this demographic never gets tired of reminiscing on the pop culture that molded their infinitely complex and highly visual young minds.

I've given up on trying to catch up completely, but once again by the end of the night the remaining 7 of us sat around Ryan's music and media corner and compared the vast difference in music scenes between early 90's and late 90's, who could name the most obscure TV show from the 80's, and the new bands that old band members from old bands have started (Shannon Hoon sang backup for Axl Rose in GNR), ad nauseum.

Morning After

But I think my favourite part of these gatherings are the morning afters when Kellie and Greg stay to take part in our Sunday breakfast routine. Chef Ryan always delivers a lip-smackin' (and nutritious) breakfast and I'll put on a couple of episodes of Flight of the Conchords as we wind down from the week and savor the moments before Monday.

This morning I had the pleasure of watching Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001) for the first time and I absolutely loved it! I'm really looking forward to the next time because the story has so many layers and textures and contexts which is unusual for a musical. Actually it's more of a rock opera.

The film so inspired me musically that I went out and bought a ukulele from Steve's on my way home to meet Mark for my music lesson. Not that I needed yet another distraction from my piano (as if 3+ pole dancing classes a week isn't enough), but the ukulele is portable and easy to pick-up, which makes for a good summer instrument for camping or playing in the park or balcony.

Meeting the Neighbours

After having anti-social and ill-mannered neighbours below us for the longest time, and then vacancy for over a month, we now have a new neighbour living in 168B. I met Josee this morning as she was hosing down our entry archway. French Canadian single-mom who's renovating the space below us by her self.

When we met her, she asked us if she wanted her to wash our door too. Ryan and I looked at each other kind of like do we WANT you to??? and not really sure how to say yes without feeling like we were ASKING her to. She saved us by saying, "Well, I might as well wash your door because if mine is washed and yours isn't, it'll look stupid." Fuck, I love her already.

Fluorescent Lights

So when I'm back at my desk tomorrow morning putting together a template for a market report card and discussing the US business acquisition strategy with my VP, I'll remember this weekend and know why I'm here at this place at this moment. I don't spend a lot of time wondering what it all means (blog posts to the contrary, but really), but nothing makes me feel more certain of my place in this universe than experiences like this.

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