Fancy Feast

On Saturday we had friends over for dinner. The mom is a hospitalist (physician) where I work and I've had a playdate with her and her little one. Saturday was the first time we met her husband. They stepped out of their car and I noted with dread that he was nicely turned out in a crisp sport coat. I slowly looked down at myself - 'Oh please don't say that I...yup. I'm still wearing my yoga pants and t-shirt that I had put on that morning with the intent of cleaning and making dinner all day. Are they sufficiently flour-encrusted from the bread I made? Sure are!'

No matter. They were wonderful. It's always a bit nerve-wracking inviting new friends over for dinner. You never know how comfortable it will be. Will Matt and I be making imploring eyes at one another as the evening drags on close to midnight? Will they recite a detailed monologue about their toenail fungus while you are trying to enjoy your pudding? Will they drone on and on about something or other while you drop weighty hints about the kids bedtime - "Oh look at the time! We all have bobsled practice in the morning, better hit the hay...Oh, still talking huh? Alright then. I'll check back in an hour"

This was quite comfortable. Jack was really excited to meet the dad - he's a cardiologist. Jack greeted him at the door in his heart shirt and doctor coat, surgical tools in his pocket and his heart model in his hand. They hit it off. The dad was impressed by Jack's passion, excitedly pointing out things on Jack's shrine to the heart in the homeschool room. Exhibit A - Jack's desk and wall:

Honestly, it's just a teensy bit creepy. You know that scene in A Beautiful Mind where the woman opens the shed and all those mathematical papers are plastered on the walls and she stares in horrified dread? It feels a bit like that. It's all he wants to draw and all he wants to write about. Let's get real for a moment - how much excitement can you truly muster when told about the aorta multiple times a day everyday? Yes, it's amazing. We know.

But this guy and Jack are kindred spirits. He happily read Jack's illustrated book on the heart (complete with Fast Facts on every page). He quizzed Jack on topics such as "How does a heart attack occur?" which Jack answered with gusto. I was pleasantly surprised by Jack's social graces when the cardiologist pulled out his phone to show Jack a video on heart bypass surgery. We've seen the video several times already but Jack didn't say anything and let the good man point out the arteries and such without cutting him off with a curt "I know."

I'm not showing his face as I don't know if he's ready to handle the inevitable fame that will come with being shown on my blog. Some people can't handle becoming an instant celebrity.

All through dinner, the guy kept complimenting my cooking:

"You made this bread? How did you do that? It's amazing."

"Your mom is a wonderful cook, you know?" (Jack shrugs "I guess.")

"You made these cookies too? You should open a bakery!"

We are definitely having this guy over again for dinner. They might have me beat in IQ and income but I can follow recipes like a champ. They brought with them two containers of Haagen-Daz ice cream and a bottle of wine. 

We set out the ice cream with the cookies and the kids immediately began pouring cheap chocolate sauce and sprinkles on it. 

NOOOOO! Don't put that crap on there - this is Haagen-Daz! I know that name means nothing to you as we've never ever bought such expensive ice cream but this isn't cheap Wal-cream. This is special. Savor it.

Nope, they just swirled the sauce and sprinkles and the ice cream together to make it soupy. It's painfully obvious that we're used to covering up the taste of poverty.

Later that evening, Matt opened the wine. A few things I noticed: 

It's not in a box. There are no pictures of animals on the label, no "Uncle Billy Bob's Mississippi Moonshine." The top didn't twist off. I can't pronounce the type of wine it is. It all came to a head when Matt brought out the corkscrew. He shows me the cork and states "Is that a real cork?" We stared at it, slightly dumbfounded. Not a plastic cork. A real one. 

It dawned on me - the sports coat, the good wine, the Haagen-Daz. We have fancy friends!

(Now before you get all insulted that I'm implying you're basically an uncultured swine, be rest assured I'm not talking about you. The rest of my friends? Absolutely. An uncouth group if ever I've seen one.

But you...you are a shining beacon of dignity and sophistication.)

So that was our Saturday evening. Next time we'll probably bump it up a notch (pants that button and non-Crocs on our feet) for our fancy friends.