October is a total faceplant. There’s really no other way to say it, is there?
See, back in the good ‘ole days, this month was just about scouting out the neighbor who gave out the King Size Peanut M&Ms for Halloween.
Now, Fall is like HELLO I’M HERE, and we really have no choice but to open the door. Somehow, pumpkins are ending up in lattes. People are talking about being Nicki Minaj for Halloween. And the weather just went from sweaty to sweater. (I couldn’t even begin to tell you what that is in Celsius.)
School/work/life is feeling undeniably fo’real, and we’re all sorta pretending that we have our $#!% together. Except if we’re being honest, we don’t, and it’s totally cool.
We’re really just trying to make it through Monday/Tuesday, with all our good humor in tack. Autumn, dudes! This shindig is a dinner sort-of-conversation.
That’s life on the lately, speaking of which. Last night, I had dinner with 3 strangers, 2 friends, and 1 Georgetown VIP. It was one of the best things I’ve done in awhile–if for no reason other than that it was out of routine.
Routine is a tricky bugger. My routine includes a mind-blowing amount of peanut butter banana oatmeal, my favorite well-worn boots, chapstick for dayz, Gmail inbox’in, walks to and from the business school, feedly, iced coffee in mason jars, friends, infinity on a simple gold chain, Todoist, messy ponytails, yoga gone digital, Pandora Film Scores, and a Spotify playlist or two.
But that’s a double-edged sword. And sometimes I wonder if we can become too caught up in our comfortable routines of who we see, what we do, and where we go. Suddenly, the daily becomes the weekly becomes the monthly. Routine is comfy! I don’t know about you, but comfy reigns supreme in my world…right up there next to chocolate-covered pretzels.
As I walked home last night, I began to consider the importance of dinner. Homegirl say what?
Dinner, as it occurred to me last night, is a really big effin deal. You’re totally raising an eyebrow, but roll with the punches. Let’s jump in!
Breakfast is laid-back; lunch is casual; and coffee is lovely. For each though, we’re busy keeping it funky fresh. We got a whole day to do!
There’s something inherently charming about the onset of nightfall. The security blanket of night allows us to be a little bolder in our actions and words. With an evening curtain of darkness, we find a certain cozy comfort that nudges us to loosen the tie of 9-5 life and the straight-laced obligations of being human.
That’s not to say all dinners are formal, lengthy, or even the same.
Sunday suppers feel familial. And the word “supper” mainly just sounds old-fashioned–like Momma would be proud of our lingo. Sunday is the high five between tradition and straight chillin’. There’s couches and really good-bad TV shows and ignoring our total case of the impending Mondays.
Wednesdays are somewhere between Grilled Cheese-ville and “Just tryna make it.” Quick and dirty. Eaten amidst the disarray of a week. Mismatched dishware is the perfect match for this crazy hump day situation.
Friday dinners are my favorite. They’re all over the dang place. But always with the people I most want to see after a long week. Fridays are when I make the effort to see you and when I hope you make the same effort too.
It’s when you’re willing to treat yo’self because surviving an entire week just doesn’t get enough credit. Fridays are for friends. For bottomless wine, bad chinese food, great pizza, solid beer, unbounded conversation, and the kind of homeskillets that will endure all of the above.
Here’s the truth: these musings are wacky with a whole lot of whatttttttt?! It’s just a penny for our midweek thoughts and the gentle incentive to reconsider an evening meal.
So consider this your open invitation to dinner. It’s my way of saying, “Hey, you’re great!” Because that’s the truth. Let’s get out of our dang routines, and go back to the basics of good food + good company.
This dinner is mainly casual and mostly just an excuse for whatever strikes our fancy. Maybe we’ll straight chill over Chipotle. Maybe we’ll linger past the plate and into life talk territory. Maybe we’ll figure out how not to completely faceplant through October.
Orrrrrr maybe we’ll trade secrets about which neighbor is giving out the King Size Peanut M&Ms?
HOLLA. Yes, let’s hope it’s that one.