Friday, May 7, 2010

First Friday Food Fears

Me and my bright ideas. What ever possessed me to think that we could feed all of Coker Creek on a couple of pots of chili? And why did I think that people here would be any different than people everywhere else that I’ve lived; that they would actually RSVP? All of a sudden, my friends are getting nervous about this; maybe that’s why I’m feeling a bit unnerved.

I had asked Mamie to call her friends and encourage them to come, seeing as the mountain people are rather shy about invitations from outsiders. I’m thrilled about her success since the whole object of this exercise is to mingle with a broad section of Coker Creek without the strictures of what other groups anyone belongs to.

When Mamie’s list of attendees grew to over thirty folks, she must have gotten nervous; she called and insisted that I come get four dozen eggs. She proceeded to share her recipe for deviled eggs, and even gave me her secret ingredient that was stashed in her pantry. I hadn’t planned on making deviled eggs, so thank goodness Richard’s game for being devilish today.

Mountaintop Mary has offered her cooking talents. When I told her that we were going to just wing-it, and when we ran out of food, we’d simply be out, she couldn’t help but exclaim that I may be crazy -- like I didn’t already know that. Since she won’t be bringing food, she’s going to help wash dishes, she says.

Several others have offered their assistance. Betty is bringing bowls and eating utensils; Don and Linda are coming for set-up. If this trend continues, maybe we can do this every first Friday. Hopefully, as a pot luck next time.

My entertainment for the evening has backed out, so I’m hoping to enlist my songbird next-door-neighbor Shirley to fill in. I had planned to have my next author Nancy read some of her poetry, but she suggested that we wait until her book is actually out in the stores. I agreed; now Nancy’s off the list of the evening’s entertainment.

Jack has promised to come and read from his already published book. Maybe he can also read something from his upcoming book of romance stories and poems, just to get a head start on marketing his new work. Bill may come with some gold and stories about his panning adventures. This would be very cool, as many people don’t know about his gold panning tours.

The iced tea is steeping while I’m writing. The beans are boiling as I believe they should. I have a back-up plan for more chips and cheese sauce if we run shy of chili, beans and spaghetti. After all, it’s not like we don’t have Davis Mountain Market five minutes from the Ruritan building and Sav-a-Lot within a half hour’s drive.

I hope that by show time I can say, “What, me worry?” and mean it. It’s probably the only way that I’ll interest others in making this a monthly event.

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