If our dining room table could speak it could tell you about a lot of parties from the last seven years it has sat in our house. It has been the happy home to Fondue and Friendsgivings. It has hosted numerous brunches. It has been taken over by crafting. And it was home to a box of peach jello shots a couple of weeks ago when I forgot I was not twenty-four years old like the rest of my graduate school cohort.
Even with all that fun and excitement, I'm fairly certain the best our table has ever had it was last week when my cousin and her husband came to visit. She's a professional Irish dancer who was in Southern California for a little tour. He is an oil painter from Ireland. We haven't been able to spend much time with our extended family over the last several years so to have dinner together was extra special.
They had traveled with some of his prints to sell at her shows. My sister asked to see them, so they were quickly displayed on our entry table. But then he brought in the little box of oil paints, the tripod he travels with and the 5 small paintings he had done on their drive up from Del Mar to our house that day. Our dining room table became a gallery with paintings that weren't completely dry, propped up on our basket of napkins and empty wine glasses.
Then my dear, sweet mother brought in her arsenal of musical instruments. Never in your life will you meet a more enthusiastic person than my mom...she consistently wants to try new things and for the last year or so that has been learning several instruments. She also gets very annoyed with me when she catches me quietly laughing at the look of determination she gets on her face when she is in a "jam session". She roped in just about everyone for well over an hour of music. When they got around to Peter, Paul and Mary I couldn't help but join in too...
So there was our dining room table amidst it all...oil paintings, empty glasses, a beer bottle next to a baby bottle and an impromptu concert...happy as ever.
