Wife, writer, tinkerer, grower of food. I'm happiest outside our rambling farmhouse with a basket looped on my arm, picking dinner from the garden. That's joy right there. Please follow along; I'm so glad you're here!
So, that weekly Tuesday night dinner thing I posted about a month and a half ago? Going strong. We were at the horse farm two weeks in a row, then Christmas hit, but then we got right back up and went to visit the sculptor's apartment and studio, met some new people to bring into the fold, and even journeyed to Morris (the next town over; five minutes' drive) to attend dinner last week.
Last night, I figured it was probably our turn to host again, and I wasn't about to be discouraged by the fact that our dining room looked like this. Patrick might've known better, but I was like, c'mooon, they're friends! It's not like the house is dirty, it's just chaotic! Well, okay, it's a little dirty...
But, listen. You want fun never-a-dull-moment dinner party chitchat? Take down a freaking wall. Best conversation piece ever.
(To clarify, the new framing that's in place is only temporary, to stabilize the house while they remove the original studs and install the big honking beam. Looks cool, a bit. A bit.)
There was venison chili, and slaw with arugula, and rice pudding, and homemade "Garbage Plates" (that's a Rochester thing we decided we wanted to try out.) It was a cold cold night. By eight o'clock everyone was jockeying for a spot by the fire.
This thing is really taking off. The fact that we're all different-- that we're sort of throwing ourselves together every week-- is part of why it works. There are squeaks where we rub together, sometimes (see last time's note about how this is like breaking in new boots) but the squeaks make it interesting. Last night, three of us may have hatched a plan to take over the (aging, slightly-running-down) general store and reincarnate it as a co-op where we each work a weekly shift, where the town's teens can apprentice and learn about bookkeeping and accountability, where the area farms can sell produce inside year-round. I want these Tuesday things to be about laughter and red wine, sure, and good food and Great Life Stories, but I also want them to be an incubator for good ideas for our town. Last night was perfect.
It didn't wrap until after eleven, so I'm, uh, feeling a little fuzzy today, but sooo buoyed and loved and proud. That fellowship thing, I guess. It rocks.