We had the end-of-season celebration for the Cayuga Heights Elementary School (CHES) basketball team at our house last night. I tried to keep it low key but that is like telling Martha Stewart to serve Pabst beer in the can. I was totally paranoid about using paper plates and plastic cups, too, because I feared the green police might show up and arrest me.
A normal person would have ordered pizza and called it a day. But since the forecast was for sun and the families that were coming over were all People I Know and Like, we decided to turn it up a notch.
The Professor dug through ice and snow to unearth our BBQ while I marinated flank steak and skewered chicken. I showed remarkable restraint with the decorating (didn’t want to emasculate First Born Prince with the multi-tiered basketball centerpiece I had dreamed up) and dared to put out wine and beer with the soda and iced tea.
It is very difficult for me to host a “potluck”. The operative part of the term makes me nervous. I don’t like to leave anything to chance, and in Ithaca we might have gotten eight kale and quinoa salads, but I was determined to stay relaxed. We ended up with an amazing spread and nice variety of delicious dishes. Coach’s wife even made an awesome basketball cake!
Watching everyone pile their plates with good food and hearing the music of happy people in my home, I realized I had reconnected with the joy of entertaining. It has been a long time since I felt like throwing a party. By the time we left California, I was so burnt out that the thought of even rinsing a carrot for a guest made me gnash my teeth.
It’s not a blind pass after all. If you trust your teammates, there’s a high percentage shot you won’t have to free throw to save your back from a layup, or get defensive about someone making a foul. I just needed to stop dribbling, and make a fast break. I learned that without blocking everyone so they could assist me, I was able to rebound my way to a slam dunk.
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