The One That Got Away….For Now

There’s a reason I named this site Taking the House by Storm. I stated in my very first post that the reason was that everything I touch turns to shit. Since then, I’ve had a few spectacular disasters that I just didn’t have the wherewithal to photograph while they were occurring.

Then there are the few things I’ve touched that have turned out surprisingly well – I can’t get over my recent foray into the wonderful world of crepes.

But on Easter Sunday, I had a Storm moment in all its glory. It was so monumental that I couldn’t even find my digital camera to take a picture of it that I could post relatively immediately. I actually had to use my film camera, so no telling how long that will take to get developed.

So in the meantime, you’ll have to just take my word for it. I’ll give you the basics of what went down.

For the past seven years – ever since my first Easter here in fabulous Cincinnati, OH – I’ve prepared Easter dinner for my friends Seth and Julie, who moved up here with me, another couple, Toby and Chris and along the way, my wonderful husband, Rick.

Every year, it’s the same thing. And I don’t just mean the menu, although I always make my mom’s ham with brown sugar and pineapple juice. Yummy.

What also happens every year is I stress out, cleaning and cooking frantically up to the minute my guests arrive.
• Giving our one bathroom a convincing whore’s bath.
• Firing up the Dyson to get as much cat hair off the furniture as possible.
• Peeling potatoes and opening cans like a madwoman.
• Throwing together the little Easter goodies I put at everyone's plate.
• And usually, decorating for the holiday because for some reason, I never get around to it before Easter Sunday itself. (This year, I was smart enough to say it wasn’t worth it.)

Generally, they all get here a little late and quite frankly, I depend on that (for all my gatherings, really). I need every freaking second I can get.

But what amazes me even more than all my last minute preparation is the aftermath. You’d think I was cooking for an army; not a mere 6 people. Either that or a band of wild banshees descended upon my kitchen. Dirty dishes, utensils, countertops, table surfaces, floors – you name it, it’s covered in crap.

You really have to see it to believe it. But I guess you’re going to have to wait.