Dinner is served

I've been reading this book lately.

Now, please don't mistake this as a book review; it's not. I'm only on the fourth chapter. What this is, however, is a quick recap of a fantastic evening ... and an invitation to dinner.

But first, backstory. (Every good story starts with a backstory, right?) For Christmas last year, my sister Kathie gave each of us Bieritz girls (me, and sisters Pat and Jenn ... not nuns, actual sisters) a bottle of wine, and a book plate. The book plate was to be inserted in our copies of the above book, when it was finally released. The box from Amazon arrived a few weeks back, and I diligently inserted my book plate and settled in to read.

Yes, I'm still on chapter four. It takes me a long time to read, because I generally fall asleep after just a few pages. Stop judging.

My copy of the book. And my fingers. And evidence that I desperately need a mani.

It is a wonderful read. As the cover says, it is a love letter to life around the table; stories from gatherings and inspiration to strengthen relationships. It's gorgeous in word and feel. (Side note: while I love love love my Kindle, my favorite books are real books. Reading is a tactile experience. The paper feels nice!) Plus, recipes! So good. 

The author, Shauna Niequist, hosted a book release party in Deer Park, and Kathie was good enough to get our names on the guest list. The party was last night, and it was incredible. 

Author Shauna Niequist and me. I hate this photo of me, so I choose to believe it's just the angle.

The shindig was held at the new Lululemon Athletica in Deer Park. I love Lululemon; I wish they made pants big enough to accommodate my ample self, because their fabrics are just beyond. Anyway, Kath and I went to Chipotle (can you say "carnitas"? I knew you could!) for a quick bite and then made our way across the street to Lulu.

The store is gorgeous, filled with beautiful clothing for what? Working out. Running and yoga, specifically. Yes, please. (Note to self: set up a savings account for this particular addiction.) And tonight it was filled with beautiful cheeses, and fig spread and bread, and fruit. And chocolate. Good God, the chocolate.

And this; there was also this.

A bottle of red; my choice for the evening. One glass only; I'm driving.

Not to be outdone, there was this, too.

A bottle of white. Kathie absolutely adored this Sauvignon Blanc (which I am convinced means "white couch" in French.)

We mixed. We mingled. We shopped. (How often do you get to buy a new sports bra whilst drinking a glass of cab, I ask you?) And we listened to Shauna talk about writing this book, and what it means to build community. We prayed for a family wounded in the Boston bombing, and we took a few pictures.

I met Nina, the woman who wrote this blog post about the bombing and what it means to runners. I love it; it feels like she knew what I was thinking and wrote it for me. So wow, what a pleasure to meet her! I was in geeked-out-author-admiration-overload, meeting her and Shauna in the same night. Eep!

Drawing the evening to a close, Shauna read a snippet from the final chapter of Bread & Wine. It goes like this:

"This is what I want you to do: I want you to tell someone you love them, and dinner's at six. I want you to throw open your front door and welcome the people you love into the inevitable mess with hugs and laughter. I want you to light a burner on the stove, to chop and stir and season with love and abandon. Begin with an onion and a drizzle of olive oil, and go from there, anyone of a million different places, any one of a million different meals.

"Gather the people you love around your table and feed the with love and honesty and creativity. Feed them with your hands and the flavors and smells that remind you of home and beauty and the best stories yo've ever heard, the best stories you've ever lived."

So consider this your invitation. I may ask you to bring a dish to share, or to set the table, but I am poised to throw open the door and share stories. When are you free?

April Fool

This post has taken me a long time to write. Almost two weeks, in fact.

On April 1 - April Fool's Day - I came across this message on the Interwebs:

Okay, I get it; to some folks, pregnancy is no laughing matter. Okay, I'll acknowledge that you feel that way. I will also point out that lumping folks who are having trouble conceiving in with people who have buried an infant is ludicrous, in my opinion, but whatever. (In addition, how one-sided is this post? The artist refers to how awful this is for women, but she seems to forget that men are part of the equation. A woman rarely loses a child or has difficulty conceiving on her own; way to make it all about you.) (And another thing: the phrase "women who have recently experienced the death of their baby"; whaddup with that? It's either "a woman who has recently experienced the death of her baby" or "women who have recently experienced the death of their babies." Unless they all, collectively, lost one child.) But I digress. I get it; you don't want to see jokes or posts that bring to mind things that are painful. That's human nature.

It's a familiar thought to me. The first Mothers Day after Mom died brought little pings of pain every time I saw an ad or heard a commercial urging me to select the perfect present. It didn't feel insensitive on the part of everyone else in the known universe; it was simply the way the world kept turning. Over time, I (and I believe the rest of my family) found the humor in it. I particularly love the ads that state something along the lines of "It's not too late to find the perfect Mothers Day gift".

Um ... yeah, it is.

It may be human nature to not want to be confronted with those things, but it's pretty narcissistic, from where I sit.

So we should try not to offend. Okay. Let me suggest we remove the words "gay" and "retard" from our vernacular. Honestly, I think those words do more harm to a greater number of people than any April Fools joke. Maybe it's just me, but when you use the word "gay" to mean stupid or ridiculous or even funny, I'm offended. Gay people are offended. It's offensive. And don't even get me started on "retard". We use the term jokingly in my family, but even then, there's a sense of appropriateness to it. My twin brother has cerebral palsy, and in our lifetime the words we use to describe his condition have changed almost as often as I've switched my hairstyle. Handicapped, challenged, disabled, differently abled and yes ... retarded. Personally, I'm not a fan of labels, so I'm happy just to call my brother Michael. But the worlds demands a word, and if there's one thing I can guarantee, it's that whatever word you choose is going to offend someone.

A few days after April 1, I heard this commercial on the radio. It's a Jimmy John's spot (click to open a new window and play it on the YouTubes) where a homeowner calls for "freaky fast" sandwich delivery because he needs help putting out a house fire. He orders several sandwiches, and with each delivery asks the doorbell ringer to grab a bucket. Finally, the fire department arrives (not freaky fast) and asks why the homeowner didn't call them first. "I did," he says.

Well, I think if I were a firefighter (and I am a big fan of firefighters) I might be offended by this. But what really struck a chord with me is wondering if my friends Marsha and Gordon ever heard this commercial. See, years ago, their daughter's family was devastated by a house fire. The fire took the home, and most tragically killed their teenage granddaughter, Jamie. Jamie and her twin sister Jenny were my friends. Jamie had been cast as Liesl in the production of "The Sound of Music" we were rehearsing at the time. It was a horrible occurrence, and I can't imagine their pain at the time. I am certain it remains with them to this day. So, should Jimmy John et al refrain from this type of commercial, because it might offend or hurt someone?

Everything we experience occurs within our personal lens. What is funny to me might be incredibly offensive or even hurtful to you. Granted, I admit to having a truly twisted sense of humor (as evidenced by the blog I once started with my faux-bro, after both our mothers died; we chose to share it with no one for a reason) but even I get offended from time to time.

So what's the answer? I'll be honest; I have no earthly idea, and I'm not sure there is one. Sometimes, we're just going to be offended. To expect the world to revolve around us and consider our feelings is pretty one-sided; every person as an issue (or two, or five) that brings up difficult emotions. That shouldn't mean that we get to tell others what not to do.