I was thrilled with the general outcome. Apart from the fantastic company and crackling conversation, the meal was lip-smacking and the table was eye-catching, all dolled up in trademark Ugly Betty hues of mandarin, robin's egg blue and mango, with my vintage California pottery proffering the luscious comestibles.
So contented was I that I let myself drift off into the dancing flame of my bold, beautiful dripless candlesticks.
And then I realized they were slowly disappearing into the ether. And I wasn't going to get another set until 2009.
And then I was mad.
"This whole stupid exercise is a stupid exercise," asserted my finely honed Sense of Entitlement.
"You can get another pair! Dripless candlesticks are the least of the world's worries," said my expert enabler, Rational Thought.
"I REQUIRE pretty stuff!" screamed my Inner Martha.
And then I told the voices to shut up and got back to forcing my political views on my dinner guests.
Anyway, the point is this: I am sad that these beauties are half gone, and when this retail South Beach diet is over, I wouldn't be surprised to find myself back in that adorable shop in Laurel Village, handing over gobs of money for a lifetime supply. But not until it's over. Because I'm beginning to think the candlesticks are the whole point. I love beautiful things, but I was already surrounded by them: the Hottest Canadian Sous Chef (HCSC) ever; hilarious, informed, intellectually engaging friends; standing rib roast so rare it mooed us a love song; wine, wine, more wine, wine; and the requisite artisan dairy prod, including fresh horseradish cream and a kick-ass cheese course.
Now really, that doesn't sound much like doing without, does it?
1 comment:
awesome, gf. nice job in working through the withdrawal. you GO.
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