When I was envisioning the upcoming dinner with friends, I saw it as a celebratory gathering. I thought we’d all be in high spirits, celebrating Hillary’s win for the Presidency, and laughing at all the ridiculous things that Orange Man had said during his campaign. Unfortunately, something terrible happened instead, leaving many of us devastated. All around town on Wednesday, the day after the election, people were crying or on the verge of doing so. Schools were organizing counseling sessions for students. The mood was down. Very down.
I wasn’t quite as excited by the idea of opening the bottle of Goat Bubbles I’d brought back from a recent trip to Los Olivos because I didn’t think it would fit the spirit. I had ordered duck breasts from d’Artagnan, but was feeling like we should have gooey, cheesy comfort food instead. Enchiladas, maybe. And tequila (which I rarely drink).
But my box of duck arrived and I went with it. Listening to music, I rolled out the dough for my apple tarte, tied up the duck, broke open a pomegranate and wiggled loose the seeds. I took my time setting the table. I chose a wine. It was all very therapeutic.
I had one taker for the Goat Bubbles (I joined her), but it really was more of a red-wine sort of night. We talked about the election and what we could do to make a difference, but we talked about all sorts of other things, too. We forgot about the looming disaster for a while, we ate and drank, and enjoyed ourselves.
We can’t crawl under a rock when things get challenging. That’s when we have to come together. And maybe plot a coup.