Ok, I realize that I sound pretty lame, and I'm probably angering feminists everywhere by admitting I spent the party in the kitchen. But honestly, I had so much fun hanging out in the kitchen and guest room, chatting with girlfriends and doing dishes. Tidying the living room and clearing trash as it accumulated, instead of waiting until the party was over, and bringing out more food when we ran low. And sure, I watched the game here and there. I caught the halftime show. I socialized. I held a baby. And then, by 8:45pm, I was on the couch with my feet up, catching up on Saturday Night Live all alone in my quiet apartment.
Yes, again, I realize that I sound really. super. cool. like. someone. you. totally. want. to. party. with.
But hey, I do throw a mean party. The food was killer, folks had a good time, and I even tried a new recipe for Sriracha hot wings (pictured, top row and left) that is a definite keeper. Will smoked ribs, and even though they took nearly 6 hours, they were worth it. Gorgeous, delicious baby back ribs.
|I really need to take better photos.|
Folks filed out at the end of the game around 6:45, Will left for his hockey game about half an hour later, and by 8:45, I was relaxing in the quiet, with furniture all put back in place, and dishes done. Usually, it takes us a few days to recover from a party, so this was hands-down the fastest post-party turnaround ever. I love throwing parties, and I consider myself a damn good host, but there's something peaceful about having the house back in order before you go back to work on Monday.
Someone (besides my mom, who I know feels the same way) please validate these feelings and make me feel like I'm not the only one who would be so thrilled about this.