Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

You know that exercise wherein you think of everyone throughout history and pick a list of just whom you'd invite to dinner if you could? I've been thinking a lot about that lately. Mostly I worry about what the hell I'd serve for hors d'oeuvres. And how we'd serve dinner since there's a treadmill where the table should be. My invite would say "buffet style" and "bring your own lawn chair".

There's some people out there I really want to talk to. I suppose a normal person's list would begin with Jesus Christ, Oprah, Elvis, and maybe Abraham Lincoln. We have a tendency to want to talk to people we think can answer questions of cosmic proportion.

Not me.

1. Agatha Christie. Sister could write, she had a sense of humor, and she vanished for eleven days in 1926 while under stress and anxiety. I can relate. Did you take the dog? Someday I'm going to write an Agatha blog.

2. Amelia Earhart. Yo, babe - what happened to you? You're out there somewhere. I think maybe you suffered from what I'll call Britney syndrome - you were kept so busy keepin' up appearances you didn't get as much time as you needed to actually get really good at what you loved. Did that get you killed?

3. Queen Victoria - For no other reason than she loved food almost as much as I do. Nothing quite like getting to sit down with someone who truly enjoys their Cream of Sorrel soup. We also gotta talk about her choice of dog breeds - Albert at least had the sense to have a greyhound.

4. Coco Chanel - Want a bit of chat about the World War years. Nursing, affairs with Nazi soldiers, and some really awesome hats. That's diversity.

5. Ann Curry - I want to actually talk to these people, and a great conversationalist I am not. She's got my back at this party.

That's just off the cuff. I'm sure I could come up with a more meaningful list, but this how I felt about life this morning.

Cheers!

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I like any kind of food---even velveeta on a cracker. And I have never been know to be quiet at any gathering. One of our Brussels Griffon litters was out of Ch Counterpoint Victoria and sired by one of ours who was called Fat Albert because he was such a fat puppy. He was registered as Ch Counterpoint Royal Consort. The litter was the same size as all the Victoria and Albert kids, so you can imagine what they were named. I could keep Queen Victoria happy telling her about the puppies named after her children. And I very frequently wear black.
John

When a Problem Comes Along, You Must Whippet... said...

Jenn - loved the post - wish you were here - could share my bottle of red wine with you. Do you like Marriott hotels?

(Sigh - back to work and tomorrow back home - all of the fun people have returned to their homes!)

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