Tastefully Simple.

I was seated at the right corner of the dining room table, twiddling my thumbs and watching, waiting. Something was bound to happen soon.

Ten women (including my little sister) chatted animatedly about seasonings and dips and Oh My! Chai. It was incredible. These kinds of parties always take the cake (no pun intended). My mother was hosting a Tastefully Simple party, and the attendees had that anxious Feed Me! gleam in their eyes. You could tell they had skipped dinner especially for the occasion. I myself had skipped dinner because it might have been a sin to indulge the stomach before passing around the first appetizer without partaking. It was kind of like Communion, in a sick, greedier fashion.

Chris, the woman in charge, gleefully cooed about each item in the booklet we held in our hands. She explained deals and benefit buys and how to make/use/mix each product, and then we slowly, very slowly, passed around 18 different appetizer-sized food samplings. They were all delicious. I got up twice to refill my glass of 1%. You don't mess with Chipotle Terriyaki dip without milk.

I watched each woman as they passed around the different plates and bowls. There was a certain pattern to it, to these women. Some of them were eaters, you could tell. The woman sitting two seats to my right never dipped just one tortilla chip -- she was in this for the filling of her stomach. She would swirl both chips around the bowl in a rather obnoxious fashion and then proceed to scoop out the largest portion of garlic/bacon/Chipotle dip she could manage onto the chip. The woman sitting diagonal from me barely stuck her beer bread into the dips and salts. I think she might have been afraid of trying new flavors of whatever. My sister hogged the bowl of spinach and artichoke dip, and since I had the pleasure of sitting next to her, I dipped one chip after another into the scrumptious green goo.

Then came the time to actually spend money. I filled out my pretty little order form and handed it to my mom, who smiled appreciatively at me. She was going to purchase what I wanted because she is just that cool. Here's a shout out to you, Mama. Thanks for being so dang cool. :)

But the women all huddled together, putting on their reading glasses and talking about the upcoming Christmas holiday. Who should they buy for? What packaged deal should they splurge on? But weren't those cookies just Uh-Maze-Ing?

I love these parties because I see myself in twenty years in some of these women. I suppose I, too, will look forward to yummy food get togethers and find reasons to splurge my well-earned paycheck of the week on some seasonings and broths and desserts. I, too, will sit back in the dining room of a friend or relative in about twenty years and think about what my husband would like and what he would frown upon me buying. I like to think that I might be plump and happy with rosy cheeks and (gasp!) a double-dipper of tortilla chips.

People say that the 20's are your "prime years", but I'm telling you what. As much as I love being 20, when I can attend these parties with money to spend and a family to feed, I think that will be the life.

So tastefully simple, eh?