For the first time in my 23 years as an adult, I'm having an open house.
I've held cocktail parties, dinner parties, birthday parties, post-holiday blues parties, meet-the-baby parties, going away parties, meet-my-mother party, parties because it's Monday. So this is a first for me, and I feel like I should don an apron, mix up a few martinis, and invite all of my parents' friends.
Do people still have open houses these days? It all feels very June Cleaver, and I'm kind of excited. (Must remember not to play music with explicit lyrics; JC would so totally not approve of that.)
An open house is defined as 'A social event in which hospitality is extended to all.' True to form, we hand-wrote invitations on Christmasy notecards and dropped them off – without envelopes – at every house on our block. Sans envelope because we don't even know everyone's name. We decided to keep our guest list limited to our neighbourhood, and also invited of our friends who live on other streets. (We made an exception for our best friends who live in another neighbourhood, because what's a party without them?) We've decided not to post it on Facebook, what with last weekend's party debacle in Essex. (Seriously, £30K worth of damage?)
In the interest of actually enjoying ourselves, we're keeping it simple: mulled wine, white wine, red wine, beer and magnums of Prosecco (since nothing says party like a magnum, though damn, maybe that's not very JC-like, either).
Anyway, the menu will consist of the following:
Cookies from my clever friend's cookie exchange party
Vegetables and three kids of dip (hummus, red pepper hummus, and Ranch dressing)
Cheese, crackers and grapes
Nothing on this list needs to be more than assembled the day of, so no, I really don't think I've bitten off more than I can chew.
I'll spend five minutes making a playlist of holiday music, clear off the clutter areas in our house, light a few candles, sweep the floor, and open the door at 4pm. Wearing pearls like June, natch.