Celebrate!

Last night, I made Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins to celebrate the birthday month of my dear friend and frequent commenter on this blog, Crystal! They are pretty good, although maybe a little heavy on the chocolate chips. I know, I didn't think it was possible, either.

And I'm going birthday shopping at the San-ei this afternoon! WoooO!

H is for Half-Hearted Hostess.

(I hope I'm getting double and triple points on all those Hs!)

So, I always get excited when we are going to have people over. I make plans and find recipes and think about how fun it will all be.

It never goes according to plan. By the time the actual date come, I have worn myself out thinking about about everything I have to do. And I never have the right stuff. And I always end up thinking "What does it matter? Marines won't notice, anyway."

It's true. They never do. Take Easter, for example. I had a ton of food ready. My girls brought food. I was planning on feeding four hungry men, three women and a kid. There was a TON of food.

Do you know what I was left with after the guys were gone? Seventy-five percent of that food. They wouldn't even take a tupperware of leftovers. Matt said the guys were hung over. Stacee said she thought they had eaten before they got to our house. Either way, they are so not invited ever again.

To End.
You are not invited to my house if: You are hung over. You already ate. You expect something fancy. You expect my glasses to match. You expect anything I own to match. You do not want sweets or baked goods. You do not want to get things for yourself.

You are invited to my house if: You enjoy Jambalaya. You like to try new sweets. You love fresh bread (I'm working on this one). You like to talk about celebrities. You care more about the people you're with than what you are doing. You love leftovers.

Easter.

I started thinking about Easter about two months ago. I asked my husband what he wanted to do. "Go to Church." Not having any of the single guys over. "No, we're just going to church." No ham? No eggs? "No. Why? We'll just go to church."

Fine. I resigned myself to a non-celebration, but I could not accept a lack of ham. I would check in about once a week, just to be sure. Not even a ham? "No. Church."

So, you can understand my frustration when, after coming home from the commissary (with a mini-ham) Matt tells me, "I invited some single guys over for Easter dinner." Oooh, for Pete's sake.

I am making as many baked goods as I can to show Matt he can invite people last minute, but he can't stop me from making cupcakes. And ham (I got two mini-hams).