This weekend, we invited a handful of friends to join us at the park.
Found a date and time that worked for everyone. Picked a location. Arrived early to claim it.
Sourced food, in quantities designed to avoid—at all costs—the mortification of serving too little.
(Not everyone suffers from this genre of mortification. A few years ago, we were invited to a potluck-ish dinner chez some lively, warm people who didn’t think it concerning—or even odd—that every presented dish was consumed in full, didn’t offer more than an additional morsel to a still-hungry guest, and saved half the prepared main course for their own eating the next day. Greater mental well-being? Less waste? Perhaps. But entirely foreign to me.)
We grilled food, trying to avoid the mortification of (a) undercooking and making the guests sick, (b) overcooking and having them politely attempt to chew (or discard) the food, (c) cooking too little—or too slowly—and having them feel hungry, or (d) cooking too much and having to stand in the sun for longer than necessary. Which leads to sunburn rather than mortification, but: similar pigmentation issues.
And it all worked out.
The weather cooperated. The food sufficed (and will continue to suffice for the coming week. Oops). The phones were only out for an occasional photo.
We planned on being together from 10-1. Everyone stayed well into the afternoon.
It was relaxed and fun and a wonderful change of pace from not spending many full days at the park with friends recently.
A little bit of anxiety before and partway through?
Well.
What a treat to feel anxious about trying to make an already positive experience better.
This Glass Has Water 