Troy and I are actually not very good at parties. We aren’t great at small talk or meeting billions of new people in one evening. We’re much better at small gatherings, and we like to keep things pretty casual. Since we’re also getting old, we don’t stay up late either, so we don’t par-tay all night for sure.
A couple of weeks ago one of our neighbors had a birthday party, and at 5:30 in the morning they were still outside on their balcony talking. VERY LOUDLY. Troy and I just shake our heads at each other and say “Why?” Yeah, we’re the life of the party.
When we DO have people over, we feed them yummy things. Here is a recipe for one of my favorite dips. Everyone loves it (even if they don’t like artichokes!) Usually I don’t tell people what’s in it until they have tried it. It’s not exactly health food!
1 large can artichoke hearts
1 cup parmesan cheese
½ cup mayo
½ cup sour cream
1 large package of cream cheese
Garlic salt and dill weed to taste, about ½ tsp each
Chop artichoke hearts in small pieces, mix all ingredients together. Pour into greased pan. Bake at 350° (170° C) until bubbly. Serve with bread, crackers, veggies or any other dippable thing! (I also like to eat it cold the next morning!)
In those days, I always wanted to be John Travolta and honestly thought I could pull it off. I even had the silk shirt to prove it. It was blue, red, green, yellow and silver. And, of course, I looked a lot like John Travolta.
See? Exactly, um, identical. In fact, many times people mistook me for his son cuz we looked so much alike: “Are you John Travolta’s son cuz you look just like him! Except for, of course, that lily white mop on your head, the albino complexion and the, uh, buck teeth and dorky smile.”
Anyway, when my sister was 13 she had a party and a certain 8-year old attention-starved waif was given permission to hang around with my sis’ friends.
We had this porch out back that was lighted and coated thickly with a high gloss green paint. My sister put on some DISCO and I beheld the group of sprouting girls like a crow among tall, ripe stalks in a corn field. They were just waiting to be picked. I strolled to the center of the floor with my silk shirt on and started shaking my “perky little jive box”. Within seconds, all the girls were around me, clapping and laughing. Now I realize: they were actually laughing AT me. Meanwhile, my sister went inside and cried her eyes out. I had ruined her party.