I love a party. Let me clarify, I love throwing a party. I think it might be in my genes, the desire to gather everyone you love in one room and cook and serve them. It’s what reenergizes me. It’s what feeds me. When asked what I dream of for my life, other than traveling the globe, it’s having enough money to throw big, lavish fund-raiser parties like I see on t.v. Crazy right? It’s just one of those nutty things I’ve come to accept about myself-no questions asked.
We haven’t thrown many parties in Jersey. First, we suffered from being new in town and thus having no one to invite to said parties. Then, we moved into a house that could barely hold us, much less party guests so we limited our soirees to July 4th and Easter where we had only family and we weren’t too embarrassed when they had to sit on top of each other to drink their cocktails.
Now that we’re moving into a house that actually has room to move, I’ve already started planning the festivals in my head. The first? Preakness. I know, I know, people are supposed to have Kentucky Derby parties, not parties to watch the lesser known baby brother race that follows. And believe me, I love The Derby. I’ve walked out of weddings to make sure I catch that race. I’m a closet pony fan so I’d throw a party for all three Crown Races if I could.
But the fact is, we’re Marylanders who for a time lived in the shadow of Pimlico (sorta) so I’d rather serve my parched guests Black Eyed Susans than Mint Juleps any day. We don’t have much to celebrate in Maryland-the state known for nothing. Crabs and Preakness, that’s about it. I had it all planned out, trays of drinks and Maryland fare (Thrasher’s Fries anyone) for all my Jersey friends. It would be a perfect way to christen our home.
Then I checked the date, May 19th, a Saturday with not one but two major committments already on it in my calendar.
Seems I may be watching Pimlico from a hotel bar in Philadelphia and perhaps throwing a party the first weekend in May instead.
Mint Juleps anyone?
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