February 8, 2010


Posted in Water Droplets tagged , , at 11:30 pm by Tamara

Over the past few years I’ve been pondering the grim possibility that hospitality may not be one of my gifts.  I’ve changed my mind, though, and concluded that what I have is a little known sub-set of the gift: the ability to blunder into absurd situations that will make others who DO have the gift of hospitality feel better about themselves.  Let me elaborate:

The first time I had dinner guests in my very first apartment, I excitedly decided to attempt a pasta primavera with cream sauce.  To shorten a long story, the sauce somehow congealed into a clear, thick, snot-like substance.  In my panic, the only thing I could think to do was dump the mess into a colander and try to wash off the snot-sauce.  The pasta I was making, ironically, was a spinach pasta, and as I was busy hyperventilating over the sauce, the pasta overcooked and turned into a sticky lump of green, stringy, booger-like things.  So, I served my guests booger pasta and snot sauce.  Thankfully they were wonderfully good-natured friends who laughed about it as much as I did.  Heh.

So, I couldn’t help wondering what would go wrong with our first house guests, who came this past weekend.  Everything was fine until about 15 minutes before they arrived.  The events are rather a blur, but they included the following mini-adventures:

While mixing a last-minute batch of brownies, I grabbed the box and realized that I was NOT making brownies, I was making cake.  Not only that, but it was a two-year old mix that had been hiding in the back of my cupboards.  In the first place, do mixes go bad?  And in the second place, I had no frosting.  Guests were about to arrive, so if I ran and got some I’d have to admit both my blunder and that I have no idea how to make chocolate frosting.  I couldn’t decide between that and throwing the whole thing away, so I ran to the guest bedroom to make sure it was ready.

I shrieked once I got there to behold the bed covered in—nails.  Adam had been hanging something and come to my rescue for something else, forgetting about the box of nails and screws strewn over the bed.  We were going to offer our guests a literal bed of nails?!

I ran into our bedroom to throw the pile of nerf guns (where they came from I have no idea) behind the bed, sweep everything on Adam’s dresser into his sock drawer, and shove more boxes into our closet.  In the bathroom I realized that I’d been carrying a screw driver around, and so I put it in the most logical place: my makeup bag.  About that time I looked into the mirror and realized I’d forgotten to put makeup on that day.

Ah, adventures.  I think hospitality may be like worship: we’re supposed to make a joyful NOISE, even if it ain’t pretty.  And a less than perfect house is probably better than sleeping on the street…unless of course you have to sleep on nails.  Heh.

Once our guests arrived, the husband told us he’d been having pain in his chest and arm lately, and joked that he could possibly die in our spare bed.  I decided, suddenly, that worse things than my previous misadventures could happen….

So if you’re ever in our neck of the woods, ya’ll come see us now, y’hear?  I’ll pray for you beforehand.  :P



  1. Mom said,

    Ah, Tamara! Your blog posts need to be put where EVERYONE else can read them, not stowed away in cyberspace like this! I got such a kick out of this, I’m still picking myself up off the floor! Thank you for making my day. So how’s about we come see you sometime this summer? The nails will probably be put away by then, right? Love you!

  2. Ah yes, the bed of nails… A fantastic tool for achieving that high state of inner peace where you don’t notice the steel barbs burrowing into your flesh, nor the red polka dot pattern forming on the bedsheets… Very few are able to achieve this lofty goal of dulling the senses to oblivion. After all, nothing really exists anyway, so what’s wrong with a few pricks to the non-existent skin?

    …Did I mention that tetanus shots are half off at the pharmacy this week?…

  3. daniellecrossett said,

    I would love to come and see you, and you already know exactly how to make me feel welcome… lime chips, queso, cherry coke, and a classic movie. As for your story, I have to admit that it sounded rather like a nightmare to me… the kind where you are running late for something, and you can’t seem to get things to go the way you need them to go. I’m sorry, that’s rough, but at least your guests didn’t almost die in the middle of the night and puke in your bathroom sink. Good times, and I love you.

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