Dinner Matters
Dearest Loyal Talkinggrid Supporters,
We ride up to the sunrise, catching it as it lashes about…
a meeting in the morning…. sunrise happening again and coffee roasted.
Perfection in a tea cup. Ah!
Last night, we had the pleasure of dining at the most thoughtful hostess’s home. It was, thanks to her and her husband’s hospitality T H A N K S G I V I N G in April, last night! Yet…
She is a vegetarian. Yet, last night she served a delicious thinly sliced roasted fish, pesto and plain noodles, organic asparagus, lentils, bread, and more delicious conversation than I have had since, the other guest last night, my dearest friend invited me to her home, a magical place, with a big garden overlooking the canyon, where the children bounce and borrow books from each other. I sit in the corner of, transport pad… launch, from domestic cozy space-to-the-universe kitchen, with tall pint of dark Irish inspiration, talking with whichever one of her rustic tribe of hand-picked misfits… a curly haired Caribbean woman, vague and obscure, in San Diego via New York sits across from me jabbering on the ins and outs of hand made Japanese paper and book binding techniques… the kind of arcane topic WE ART NERDS live for. Pleasure!
Recently, just over a week ago, last Saturday night, we attended a lovely house warming party. We laughed standing around the hibachi drinking beers and talking about weaving pipe cleaners with artist Don Porcella. Social life in San Diego… isn’t hurting. I’m happier here, than in LA, where without an active Film Project one is invisible… not always a sad state. Yet, I like it better here and in New York. (I really must POP into Manhattan, soon… I have old art buddies to see… intimate art chats to have… digital video documents to create.)
Last night, I sat at the table zoning out, feeling bliss. Thanking goodness that my friends and I were born to host and entertain, to love and to maintain. I think. Yes… our garden
F L O W E R S!
The same group of friends, we take turns entertaining each other… we are very different from each other… glowing shades of an ideal female goddess, a mother, THE Muse… these women are my sisters, much a kin to the beautiful pet, egg laying, chickens… one white, another brown, another a fabulous GOLD chicken, clucking in the immaculate rectangle of rectangles and trees, heavy with long yellow fruit… into the evening and night we talk about all the little details too tender for public discourse… we share these morsels of self with each other… rambling…we feast in each other’s company. We are more than mere dinner companions (notice: the Latin root…) WE break bread, together. WE are surrogate family to one another, giving each other warmth and some… shit, sometimes, a little… But, only me, I’m the only one that doesn’t always understand everything. I’m the rudest of the three tactful and trustworthy women. Fortunately, they forgive me and overlook my short comings time and again.
Unfortunately, can not we see each other each and everyday. There was a point, when we had babies that we all lived in the same neighborhood, that was when we founded our timeless, untamed, and delicious bond. Our friendship was established on the firm ground of affinity and now has roots in the passage of time and in the accumulation of memories, efforts, and shared news. Fortunately, we live in the same city. Thus, we are able to get together in turns, at least once per month. We are mothers. We work. We guide our children’s growth. We have projects, deadlines… stress… we carry the burden… among us… we laugh, making light of our personal troubles.
Last night, the Champagne, hit the spot!
The Children ate at their own al fresco table. We sat inside and forgot about them. They are big kids now… they don’t need us, so much, anymore. They ran around, wearing funny hats after dinner, and my kids sang a Roland Kaiser song to the Irish-American-Mexican, by choice… Best Friend. She could not believe how well the children sing in German!
Three couples and their children… we have known, for a decade… we are dear to each other. We form a group, an extended family. It is marvelous to watch the children grow, together. They know each other so well. They are a team of sorts, each growing his or her own way, as we all have, over the years… We three mothers became friends years ago… having met in a mother’s group and founded a mother’s Book Club; over copious amounts of Vueve Cliquot and petite fours… which thrives to this day.