Honey, the Joneses Are Here…How Do I Look?

Last night my husband and I had some friends over for dinner (hence the lack of a post yesterday…if I do 2 today, that makes up for it, right?!), and with it being a Friday we were a little rushed for time.  However, the husband of the couple is a surgical resident and has a hectic schedule, so we were happy to accommodate.  We love entertaining and always carefully deliberate over the menu.  We originally started with a simple, quick menu since both of us had to work Friday.  However, that morphed into something a bit more complex when paired with the fact that tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday.  Based upon our Super Bowl menu, we decided to combine recipes and ingredients.

I wanted pulled pork nachos for Sunday, and the recipe for smoking the pork was a lengthy process (not to mention you can’t get a small pork shoulder at the store), so we decided on pulled pork sandwiches for Friday.  We bought our groceries Thursday night and my husband came up with a schedule to get the pork cooked.  His first idea involved keeping the gas oven on while we were at work with the dog in the house.  I quickly vetoed that idea.  Instead, he smoked the pork on the stove for an hour starting at midnight Friday morning.  Surprisingly, the wood chips did not smoke that much.  He came to bed around 1:40 am after putting the pork in the oven.  I had been happily slumbering for about an hour.

I woke up when he got in bed, and the aroma of the pork had already filled the house.  It smelled wonderful and my stomach started growling almost immediately.  However, I started to get a bit paranoid about the oven being on with no one downstairs.  I contemplated getting up to check things out, but dozed off.  I must have started dreaming as I thought I heard an explosion and immediately sat up in bed.  There was no explosion, but I did creep downstairs to ensure nothing was on fire.  All was safe, the oven was on low, and the pork looked delicious.

When we got home yesterday afternoon, in addition to getting the rest of the food ready, we had to chip away at the three inches of ice coating our front walkway and clean up the house.  It never fails that when we invite people over the house is a mess.  I always intend to start cleaning in the days prior, but it never works out.  While my husband labored over the walk, I went to work doing a half-assed cleaning job.  This involves a quick dusting, quick sweep, and water-only mop of the hardwoods (downstairs only), and a more thorough cleaning of our one full bathroom.  I like to pile things up – mail, bills, newspapers, etc. – so the piles have to be hidden.  This always results in the piles remaining hidden until I stumble upon them weeks later.  Always a great plan for keeping on top of stuff!

Regardless of our initial stress, everything came together and appetizers were ready before our friends arrived.  They made it safely into the house (although all of our hard work has been undone with the immense amounts of snow that have been falling for at least the last three hours), and seemed to enjoy our food.  We had great conversation, and it was an overall excellent start to the weekend.  Plus the house is now quasi-clean!

How DO You Define A Friend?

Friendship is a tricky thing.  Friendships are hard to develop, hard to maintain, and even harder to resurrect.  I have found making friends more difficult than finding my perfect match in my husband.  I have spent many hours trying to figure out why this is, and I haven’t found a sufficient answer.  Although I don’t think about it for too long because it makes me sad.

My husband is my best friend, but everyone needs friends outside of your significant other.  It’s important to have interests and friends that define who you are as an individual.  I have always struggled with having close girlfriends, at least since middle school or so.  I had no problems making friends at that age.  It was developing the friendship into something more meaningful and lasting that I could never achieve.  Friends gradually began to slip away.  Some of it I get.  You really don’t know who you are at 12 or 13 years old.  You grow up, your interests change, friendships fall by the wayside.

However, I have a number of friends who have 20+-year friends (so, friendships that started roughly when they were about 10 years old).  I’ve still got about 5 more years before I can say that (not that a 15-year friendship is insignificant, but I only have one of them).  I often wonder what it is about those relationships that have withstood the tests of time and distance because I haven’t figured out the trick.

I don’t think that I expect too much out of a friendship.  The qualities that I look for are not uncommon: similar philosophies on life, some similarities in background (but not too many because that’s what makes people interesting), similar interests or hobbies, and will laugh with you, cry with you, and generally be there for you (as I will do the same).  I feel like the downfall of most of my friendships has been changing interests – both on my part and the friend(s).  I have never had a true falling out with anyone – no terrible fights, no betrayals, nothing so dramatic as that.  Just general fizzling out.

I do approach meeting new people with an open mind.  I’m always looking for new friends.  That’s why I joined a running group, and yesterday I signed up for a knitting class.  At least I know going into it that I have one thing in common with the people I am meeting!  However, I do worry that I am putting too many expectations on myself and on other people.  Don’t true friendships really just happen?  No planning, no scheming, just two people meeting, perhaps by chance, and finding each other interesting.

Like I said, friendship is tricky.  There’s no one way to define a friend, and breaking that barrier between acquaintance and something more is never easy.  But I continue to try.  I know there’s someone out there who I can shop with when my husband wants to watch football, talk with about girly things, and giggle with endlessly as only girls know how.  It’s just a matter of time and you never know what life will present to you.