A conversation I had with a friend the other day really got me thinking. I recently had a falling out with a friend who also happens to be a co-worker of mine. I was discussing the situation that occurred while I was on vacation and my friend (who just got stuck listening to me bitch about my falling out) said something shocking to me. At first she was giving me the normal chat about how sometimes we outgrow people and how it takes awhile to really get to know a person and see their true colors, and then out of nowhere she says so matter of factly, “You have more friends than anyone I know. I think you’ll be fine.”
I actually stumbled over my own two feet while looking at shoes in a store called Uterque in Barcelona when I heard her say this to me. I never really considered the fact that I have a lot of friends. I always felt lucky to have people in my life that I get to share the good and the bad with. I’m an only child, so for me friends mean everything. They literally are my world, and they certainly know me better than I know myself most days. But her words still got me thinking.
With all the friends I have, made from so many different homes in my life (I’ve moved around quite a bit), I’ve never considered getting them all together to meet.
Well, that’s not entirely true – I did. When I first bought my home a little over a year ago, I very seriously considered having a house warming party. What a better way for everyone to meet than at an easy going, no rules apply, welcome home soiree. Except, I bought my home in June, went to London & Paris in July and came home to killer bees in August. No that’s not a joke, my front and back yard were infested with them. I was so overwhelmed with moving in and barely being able to get in and out of my home on a daily basis for fear of being attacked that the idea of subjecting my wonderful group of friends to these 3 inch wasps that were nose diving at my kitchen windows like kamikaze pilots, just seemed ludicrous.
Very quickly my dreams of a house warming were put on hold and slowly became a distant memory of a time I bought my first home and finally had a great reason to cook for people. Which brings me to today and this kinda crazy but yet not so crazy idea.
Sitting here in Barcelona, having my eat pray love moment, belly stuffed to the brim with pasta and cheese, I began replaying Fran’s words in my head, “You have more friends than anyone I know.” How have I not had a Friendsgiving? And isn’t Friendsgiving just a fancy way of saying a dinner party? So why hadn’t I just thrown a dinner party so everyone could meet and I could finally get all my favorite people in one place?
People have book clubs where they invite friends, even strangers, to get together over wine and cheese and discuss the latest 50 Shades novel, so why can’t I throw a dinner party in the middle of September and introduce friends old and new?
And if I did decide to go for it, say in the middle of September, when the nights have cooled off and hopefully everyone is back from their summer rendezvous, what does one serve?
I don’t know why the idea of a dinner party suddenly seems so daunting, maybe because I’ve never thrown one and it rightfully is the next step in adulting – and I want to get it right. I’m not exactly top chef material and I really want my friends to enjoy it so much they want to do one regularly. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I suppose I could break out the cooler, fill it with beer and wine, throw some meat on the grill and turn the record player up.
I’m so fortunate to have these diamonds in my life, people that make my world a little better every day. It is only natural that I want them all to come together so I can feed them. I am Italian after all.
I was so excited about all these ideas bubbling up that I sent Fran a text and told her about my genius (not so original) idea. She immediately offered to bring a dish (probably because she knows what my cooking skills are) or maybe because she’s just a really good friend. We’ll go with the latter. I went to reply, “Potluck I love it!” Except, good ol’ autocorrect turned my word into “pot lick”. So I’m going with it…thanks autocorrect! You just named my Fall Friendsgiving and it couldn’t be more fitting. Pot Lick it is – where the only requirement is you must lick your plate clean.