Super

I would love to hit publish on another photo montage depicting an all-star weekend. But my love affair with a pair of Magic Erasers on Saturday afternoon and the war I waged on Peter's annex closet on Sunday morning weren't nearly as photogenic as a party on the Potomac or a blushing bride.

But just as I thought our home improvement themed weekend, spent under house arrest, applying an absolute resolution toward getting our home into a clean, organized, working order, wasn't going to produce a single photo friendly moment, there was a glimmer of glamor.

Say, when the meatballs were served.  

Or when I figured out what to do with the niche in the entry way. 

 

Or better yet, when my no rest for the weary Cubs fan who just wanted to watch the bottom on the ninth and finish his beer mantra, paid off with the look of utter excitement and astonishment at our house from the sensational, celebrational, super Grandma Shirley, our guest of honor on Sunday evening.

Super Grandma Shirley, SGS for short, is Peter's grandmother. Now, I remember Mrs. Lauer telling me not to use words like 'super' when writing English papers. That there were better descriptors. But I believe 'super' is the only word to describe Shirley. It encapsulates her contagious zest for life; her enthusiasm for family, friends and the social events that bring them together; her ability to do yoga every morning and hop into the captain's seat of a boat better than I can; her classic style, perfect posture and impeccable manners; and above all, her warm smile and laughter that lights up a room.  

SGS returned from Florida this weekend, and without being here for the purchase and move-in, I knew a welcome to our house, a little sneak peak before every last piece of furniture has arrived, and a dinner party would be appreciated. 

So around 5:30 PM yesterday evening, when there were no boxes on the first floor, Burton Morris was on the wall instead of the ground, Louis Armstrong was trumpeting in the background, the table was set, the menu, selected - a little something to take SGS back to Paris where she and her husband used to vacation, Peggy, Jan and Shirley arrived.  

With yellow tulips, making the dining room look a little more like the bistro I was trying to create. 

Dinner was roasted pommes de terre, steamed haricot verts, and seared steak au poivre served with a brandy pan sauce. Dessert was David Lebovitz' via Dori Greenspan's French apple cake.

 

And the wine was a 2007 Fort Ross Pinot Noir Reserve.

The pain in my shoulders, back, legs and feet, from dusting, scrubbing, lifting, hanging, and doing my last long runs before the Marathon, quickly subsided when everyone gathered around the dinner table on Sunday evening. The weekend was super, just like that.

Despite the chores, errands, and to dos that need to get done on any given weekend, you can always make it an all star one, by inviting someone super to join you.

Lo.  

House Rules

Butchered to its meatiest potential, there is a half of a hog in our freezer. Every last inch of it is filled with pork products. We have no room for Cherry Garcia, Chunky Monkey, Java Chip or the like, which might just be a good thing as I have an over eating problem when it comes to ice cream. 

Despite the pig's frozen status, this innovative wedding gift warmly welcomed us home from Chris and Kassen's wedding on Sunday evening, along with a trailer on our front lawn, a full tank of gas in the Mini, aromas of rosemary, garlic and potatoes roasting in our kitchen, and our first house guest at the front door, letting us in.

Visitor number one to our western suburban bed and breakfast was John, known to me as Peter's roommate in college, the second reader at our wedding, and a fellow former restaurant staffer. But after spending an evening with him, over a dinner that he prepared and served in our house, I now know him as an excellent chef, someone who freestyles grace before dinner, a very thoughtful writer, and another character who can make me laugh and laugh well past my bedtime.  

Although I believe the roster of friends that I have built over the years from St. Edmund's and Ellis, to Notre Dame and Big Burrito is the cream of the crop, every time I meet and hang out with one of Peter's friends I am blown away. Each one is more fun, more down to Earth, and more original than the next.

When John left on Monday, I realized that I had forgotten something - his photo. Sure, the lamb lollipops, chard and potatoes speak volumes for his culinary skill, but his smile is missing. So I decided that I would institute a rule and a couple others with it.

As we unpack the last of the boxes and open up the bed and breakfast for business, here are the house rules. 

• Our door is always open even if we aren't there. You just have to open it for us when we arrive home.
• Participation in the kitchen, on the grill, at the tap, and in the beer cave/wine cellar is mandatory.
• The Mini is available for a spin, but topping it off with gas might get you a few extra miles. 
• Entertainment progresses from the living room, to the dining room, to the Champagne room. In that order.
• Granny goes to bed at 9:30, so you might need to release some energy with a bike ride around town after hours.  
• If you are local and don't need a bed or breakfast, we are open for dinner as well. But please book at least one week in advance.
• You must leave us with a photo - one that will always remind us of the time you paid us a visit. 

Come one, come all, come often. The fun has just begun.

Lo.

Tying the Knot

I nearly did it again. That is, ruined a perfectly good party with one of my half baked speeches. Keira, the 7-year old flower girl, urged me to write my words on a napkin so she could read it first. She was confused. So I presented the idea to my friends. There were some yeas, but they were largely hushed by the staunch nay sayers.
'Have another cocktail and go for it.' 
'Bad idea.'
'Sit down.'
'Mia's got it covered tomorrow.' 

Thankfully, I listened to reason, keeping the two or threes lines that lacked a conclusion in captivity. Until now. I just couldn't let a good marketing analogy go to waste. Here goes. Fill your flute.

In marketing, you learn about aspirational brands - brands that take the consumer to a richer, thinner, smarter, prettier, tastier, better version of you place in life. For instance, a Prada bag helps you live la dolce vita; a Mini Cooper makes you a better, swifter, cuter driver; and a snack of Morbier Cheese reeks of sophistication.   

My friend Kassen is like an aspirational brand. Over the years, she has made quite a name for herself. You want to be friends with her, teammates with her, kitchen mates with her, you just want to be around her because she brings out the best in you. An assist from Kassen was a sure goal. Baking with her meant that your cookies might just turn out as perfectly as her peanut butter blossoms. Getting dressed to go out with Kassen meant that you wearing an extra dash of class. And hanging out with her meant that your smile would last a little longer, your giggle would turn a little more bubbly, and the glow you never thought you had would shine.

For most, tying yourself to an aspirational brand works with limited success. The satisfaction you feel being associated to it can be temporary, fleeting. The sophistication that comes with enjoying a good cheese vanquishes when you realize you've eaten the whole wedge in one sitting. But if you are lucky, and the knot is tied just right, magic between brand and consumer can happen.

This weekend, I witnessed that kind of magic in Alexandria, Virginia. This weekend, Kassen sealed the deal with her biggest brand aficionado - a guy with a similar kind of aspirational quality - and when it happened lightening struck. As I stood up and cheered, feeling a sense pride for helping to bring two big brand names together, I saw how co-branding can take the best of the best to the next level.

To the happy couple who I know will continue to bring out the best in each other each and every day of their lives, and to the couple that I'm happy to not only call my friends, but my second cousins by marriage, let us raise our glasses.  

And now, what you've been waiting for - the photos.

Lo.