Just a couple of random thoughts today… and I think I can tie them all into the “Hosting” theme.
• Do you think the blog title calls to mind images of athletic supporters?? You know, not cheerleaders and fans, but that other kind? In a flash of horror the other day, that idea popped into mind when I was thinking about moving this blog to a hosted site– per Apple’s ultimatum. I can’t stop thinking about it now, and the connotations of “A Fresh Cup” just ain’t pretty. Do you think I should change the name when I move it??? If I’m on a site that allows this blog to come up in searches, what kind of people might stumble upon us?
• That calls to mind a story I’ll tell– just because I can never resist publicly revealing my small humiliations– involving some kind, tactful hosts I stayed with once when I was young. (A little background info– it was during the time I played high school basketball that they started using a smaller-sized basketball for the girls’ game). Some years later, when I first moved to New Mexico, a kind friend invited two of us to her house in Colorado Springs for the weekend. We were having a lovely time with her and her family, and late one evening conversation turned to basketball. I think we were talking about the 3-point line or something, and I mentioned that I never could shoot from very far outside… “but then,” I added, “that was back when we used those big, hairy men’s balls.” Yes. I said that. And there was this silence… and I began to realize how that sounded. There’s really no amount of backtracking or explaining that can make people believe you are not, a) a really crude person who just made a totally inappropriate remark in front of her friend’s entire family, or b) an unbelievable idiot who just bumbled into saying an exact series of words that should never be used together in a family setting. I was “b,” obviously. And for the record? “Hairy” was just something people said back in those days– like ‘awesome’ was then, or like ‘wicked’ is now. But ugh, just ugh. My hosts were very gracious and, after’s a moment’s awkwardness, conversation moved on (pretty much without red-faced me!).
• Quinn has a small friend coming over for a playdate and dinner today after school. Yesterday we were discussing what we should have for dinner. “Pizza?” I suggested.
“We should let Parker decide,” said Quinn. “I got to decide when I was at his house.”
“Okay, we can do that,” I agreed. “But what should the choices be?”
“Parker should make the choice.”
“Sure. But what should I have here for him to choose from?” I asked.
Quinn looked at me like I was dense, “Well, just have everything. And then he can choose.”
Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m off to the market to buy “everything” and thus fulfill my one REAL chance to be the hostess with the ACTUAL mostest…
So. Cheers to you all, my friends. May your weekend be filled with happiness and cheer. May you keep food on the table, your feet under the table, and may you remember that the food– not the foot– goes in your mouth!