My friend Kathy is the consummate hostess. Guests are always warmly welcomed to her Good Housekeeping home. Savannah and I made a friendly, unannounced visit tonight in response to her husband's recent Facebook invitation:
"Amy, stop in soon to see our tree," Durwin had written beguilingly.
"Durwin, I saw your tree. You posted a picture," I typed back.
"It's not the same as in person," he insisted.
So it was that we made the long trek from Joan's house, shielding our faces from the whipping wind, piles of snow barricading our forward movement as we finally approached her sister's home. "Durwin, I'm here," I called, interrupting his evening. He was right. The tree surpassed pictorial representation. It was breath-taking. We quickly settled in at the dining room table, exchanging cards and conversation. In less than five minutes time, Kathy had set up an impressive snack buffet. Christmas cookies, two varieties of fudge, cheese and crackers, pretzels and dip along with a vast assortment of beverage choices. When I wasn't busy singing a "Sound of Music" duet with Durwin, I was considering my own lackluster hostessing abilities. Should someone appear out-of-the-blue upon the Mosiman household, it would look very different. "Well hello," I would heartily exclaim, discreetly slamming doors shut to conceal the views to disheveled rooms. "Can I interest you in some stale generic saltine crackers? If you're in luck, I might be able to dig up some tasty saturated fat to spread on them."
Continuing the "Sound of Music" theme, Durwin and I transitioned to a friendly debate comparing the performances of Julie Andrews and Carrie Underwood. Savannah and I, riding a wave of naive confidence brought on by an extreme sugar-high, obnoxiously won the first two games. Well, one of us was obnoxious. Determined not to let that happen again and hurt that I asserted that Julie Andrews could spin circles around Miss Underwood, Durwin implemented a devious cheating scheme. Every time I even got close to winning, another cookie was offered or more cheese suddenly appeared on the platter. "Tell me more," Kathy would say, pretending to be interested as I mapped out my plan to use a pretzel stub to spread Dijon mustard on a cracker and then adding cheese for a deliciously delightful combination. "What's trump," I would ask to only have Durwin inquire about my snack-construction outcome. Fighting the sudden sugar slump, I focused intently on my cards. "Kath...bring Amy one of those chocolate Santas," Durwin offered selflessly (and unnecessarily, he and Joan were ahead six points). Furious, I tore Santa's fudge-y face off and lost the game. I left, bloated and betrayed. As I slogged through the snow, I reconsidered my lackluster hostessing abilities and felt a little bit better. Sure, Kathy could transform crockpot potatoes into heavenly carb clouds but is this a feature to be admired when she clearly uses her powers for evil? The decapitated Santa in my pocket wasn't the only victim of her plot to destroy the world. How do you solve a problem like Kathy?
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