lay the good plates

*The last time London girls were in town, the first night in, it was Mister Pizza and chaos all around.*

*We all drove out of the city and grilled steaks and corn. I had my sister in town for only 14 hours this time around.*

*It all goes so fast, and I want them all back. Lay the good plates. What else are we waiting for?*

*The best kaleidiscope. A baby in a high chair, old tequila bottles filled with flowers, half-eaten corn, glasses of red wine.*

We have this quirky tradition that when Caroline and company arrive from Andover, MA, or Elizabeth and Mary from Shoreditch, London, we always order takeaway pizza and salad upon their arrival from our favorite spot. I miss the London girls terribly, and I fear they are creating this wonderful life that they might not leave, so I keep laying the good plates and making seasonal food, and having plated dinners, so they might come back and linger for a bit.

*A late-night after-hours pizza party kitchen post. Perhaps the kitchen mouse will come in and put it all away, doing clean-up magic.*

While the pizzeria will provide paper plates and disposable cutlery, making for a quick and easy cleanup, I opt for good plates and cloth napkins.

These nights when all of us are together are too few and far between. The act of putting on a lovely dress and laying the good plates makes it all the more memorable. My husband will occasionally remind me that I’m putting in all the extra effort for myself, and, of course, he’s right. It matters anyway.

I enjoy taking the time to make even a takeaway a little more special. I think it makes us all slow down and stay a bit longer at the table.

Every day dress, lay the good plates.