I’ve got a little confession to make. Despite the outgoing and friendly impression I hope this blog gives off, I am truly awful at parties. I can speak to large groups of extras, effortlessly move from set to set meeting whole new crews of people each time, and have no trouble talking to customers at the bakery, but something about a party brings out my inner wallflower. Recently I’ve decided this is something I need to work on and have been purposely putting myself and my husband in social gathering situations where we don’t know anyone. Case in point was the Joy The Baker Picnic where I decided we could not leave until I had approached and spoken to five strangers. Check out Joy’s post for that event. See that couple on the bottom left walking alone towards the middle of the crowd? Yep that’s us. Ultimately I did succeed, and exceed, that five people standard and had a lovely time doing so.
Today was our neighborhood’s annual Labor Day Weekend Block Party. I am proud to live in a community that reveres bounce houses, water balloon fights, and neighbors hanging out in the street drinking beer and listening to a local band of fortysomethings live out their rock and roll fantasies. We go every year, and by go I mean slam a drink beforehand (for courage) and walk up and down the street twice before scurrying back to our little triangular shaped house on the corner. This year I vowed it would be different. This year I brought cookies.
And not just any cookies, David Lebovitz’s chocolate chip cookies which are my new absolute favorite. Have you tried these yet? They are perfection I promise you.
Yeah so I made a big batch of these cookies and we marched our way down the street, cookies and beer in hand. By the time we reached the bounce house they were half gone and the rest didn’t last five minutes on the dessert table. Of course once the cookies ran out so did my courage and I felt pretty dorky carrying around an empty plate. We walked back to house, ostensibly to drop off said plate and get another beer…and we never left. Oh, well there’s always next year. Baby steps.