We Did It!

We actually did it--we hosted a Wednesday Spaghetti!


We took the leap because: 1) it was the day after our traditional January 1 party, so the party gear (tables, chairs, bar setup) was out and cleaned; 2) we both had the day off; 3) we'd been talking about it for years; 4) the type-A side of us loved the idea of knocking out a resolution on Day 2 of the year; and 5) we went to three funerals that week and were in a bit more of a carpe diem mindset than usual.


And it was awesome, except for my own flipping kids who took advantage of the chaos to (are you ready?) get a concussion. (Ok, to be fair--it wasn't really a concussion--it missed one benchmark for concussion classification--but was a serious enough bonk on the head to earn concussion treatment, though thankfully only for a week. And I'm totally ok with outside support for limiting screen time.)

So, head injuries aside--it was great. I was not brave enough to invite the world. We invited our street +1, for a total of 20 houses, plus our backyard neighbors whose street has zero kids besides theirs. And of the 20 houses--14 had at least one member come! At peak, we had about 40 people here, 12 of whom were kids, which is about capacity for our house. (Really--it's a bit over capacity but it was fun.) On New Year's Eve, I had my kids run up and down the street, ringing doorbells to deliver the invitations since I was so late getting them out. Text below:

You are cordially invited

To Wednesday Spaghetti

With (our family)

Wednesday, January 2

6pm-7:30pm

We will provide:

spaghetti, sauce, and this time, meatballs

If you want to bring something, consider: drinks (for kids or grownups), salad, dessert, snacks, bread. If you are fresh out—just come anyway!

All (our street) is invited. It is a work and school night, so this is not a party; it’s dinner, together.

Please RSVP to (my email and phone number) to let me know how many are coming so I know how much spaghetti to make.

What is Wednesday Spaghetti?

Wednesday Spaghetti was formed to increase awareness of the need for families, caregivers and peer groups to spend quality time together. See more at: (this website)

I was delighted that one of the elderly couples on our street called to decline, but complimented the kids ("they were so cute and so well behaved") that it was worth it already. People came right after work, still in suits or work clothes; others changed in to more casual clothes; but people came and settled right in and enjoyed.

About 15 of the 20 houses have the same blueprints, so it's fun to go see what other people have done (or what former owners have done), and gave us something immediate to share. About 4 of the families agreed that by putting "It's not a party" line in the invitation, attendance was definitely increased. The novelty factor definitely played in to it too. Our oldest guests were in their 70s; youngest were first graders (and four of them!).

Next time, I would use spaghetti instead of angel hair (too sticky; shells or rotini would be even better). We ran out of meatballs (and we had a lot of meatballs!) early, but awesomely, our neighbors had some in the fridge, ran home to get them, and saved the day. We had a ton of bread (breadsticks, garlic bread, homemade bread...), three salads, and some dessert. Someone brought a huge chunk of gourmet cheese. Someone else baked cookies and brought them over warm. Someone else didn't see the invitation until that day and offered to boil the pasta for me. Everyone contributed; everyone stayed longer than they meant to; and everyone was gone by 8:10, and most were gone before that.

Before they left, three neighbors cornered me to ask how WedSpag is "done." I explained that it is up to the hosts. Some do weekly; some monthly; some quarterly; some do neighborhoods; some invite everyone. They asked if I would be insulted if they did it next time and I said of course not! And so my hope is that sometime in the next few months, the idea will spread yet again.

If you are on the fence, I say: do it. The irony of doing it on a day off was that by starting it at 6, I started getting ready at 4:30...and then had to wait almost an hour after setting up to start the actual spaghetti, so it really wasn't hard. (And again: we had just hosted a party so your milage may vary.) But it was really easy, compared to "parties," that have menus and expectations and baggage that this night doesn't. Try it. You'll like it. Just keep the concrete blocks (or the kids) out of your basement and all should be well.

Thanks to all who have hosted me before; someday I'll do it for you! But I am grateful for the inspiration, and hope that more take it on in the new year!

Spaghetti Friends

Our dear friends - who never missed ONE single Wednesday (or Tuesday, or Thursday) Spaghetti at our house - moved to Connecticut. They totally got it. They fully understood the whole Wednesday Spaghetti thing: the showing up whenever they could get here, the bring something if it wasn't a stressful notion, the sit down and eat where space allowed, the kids running and playing and eating at their own paces, the casual and communal feel of it all. The husband staked out emptying the trash and recycling as his regular job; I could always count on finding him in the kitchen at some point in the evening taking care of that. He probably took our recycling out more times than I ever have. In the few Wednesday Spaghetti dinners we've had since they moved, there's a definite space at our table.

I don't know how I can adequately capture in words how...happy? proud? joyful? nope...those don't quite do it I felt when I got the evite last month from them. Their first Wednesday Spaghetti in their new neighborhood. They didn't know many of their neighbors yet, and they did it anyway. They weren't sure people quite got the concept, but they were sticking to it. And this month, they did it again.

One month, I'm just going to show up for one of their Wednesday Spaghettis. Bottle of wine or loaf of bread in hand.

I can't wait.

Spaghetti

As I was sitting in the cafe at my new job, a guy sat down next to me and started talking about the Wednesday Spaghetti special.  I, in turn, told everyone at the table about this little special. 

That's all.  Nothing else happened, but I thought it would be nice to get a current post here. 

: )

Drink this Kool-Aid, I Dare You

*Originally posted at www.wellreadhostess.com

About a year and a half ago, my friend Lora, who thinks, writes, and even lives the way I often wish my cluttered mind would allow me to, invited me and a few other local women bloggers over to her house for dinner. She'd postponed her usually Wednesday night gathering of neighborhood women to have us over for spaghetti.

Lora started Wednesday Spaghetti in her neighborhood as a way to live what she believes in, the importance of friends and family gathering regularly to build community in the most natural way - sharing a meal and talking about whatever people talk about when they are comfortable and eating dinner: family, life, schedules, politics, the neighborhood, marriage, relationships, work, the weather, anything. Every week, she puts on a big pot of water, heats up some sauce, and opens her door to a group of regulars.

She even wrote a mission statement: Wednesday Spaghetti was formed to increase public awareness of the need for families, caregivers, and peer groups to spend quality time together in an in-home, casual dining setting in order to discuss general life issues, household guidelines and practices, personal habits, issues, and goals, educational habits, issues, and goals, employment habits, issues and goals, family habits, issues, and goals, physical health-related issues, sexual health-related issues, emotional health-related issues, spiritual issues, relationship issues, community events and resources, and other such topics; to support and conduct nonpartisan research, educational and informational activities to increase public awareness of the importance of togetherness, communication, and good nutrition; to provide simple to make, nutritious meals to any family or group in the community, regardless of race, color, creed, sexuality, religious beliefs, ethnicity, economic status, or location at no cost to the family or group.

I fell in love with this idea. I'm not really sure why. Well, that's not entirely true. There are lots of reasons why, and I've come at that topic a few times, but it's a larger than life issue and I'm OK just letting it be that and not completely picking it apart like I do everything else.

We try to do Wednesday Spaghetti once a month, not every week, and unlike Lora's Wednesday Spaghetti, our guest list isn't just a few neighborhood women, it's a more extensive crowd of families and friends. The most we've ever had was 103 (we think, with so many kids, it's hard to get an entirely accurate count), but the average is about 50 or 60 guests.

Here are the two things I hear about Wednesday Spaghetti:

1) I love Wednesday Spaghetti.
So do I. Probably even more than you do.

2) I don't know how you do this.

I say, "It's not hard" and people look at me like I have a baby's arm growing out of my forehead. But it's true. I do lots of things that are hard, I sould know.

So here's how. And I want you to do it. I realize that I sound a little Jim Jones-y here. But this is some Kool Aid you want to drink. I promise you that you can do this, and you won't be sorry. Ask anyone who knows me, I am as uptight as they come, and if I can have 103 people come to my house on a Wednesday and eat spaghetti, mediocre spaghetti - at BEST, and not only not stress out about it but love every damn minute of it, you can, too.

How To Wednesday Spaghetti

1) Don't clean your house: Straighten up. Put stuff in closets. Close doors.

2) Keep it simple. Because I invite a ton of people, I use paper plates and plastic cutlery. I recycle and try not to think about the environmental sins I'm committing.

3) Cheap pasta. Cheap sauce. Nobody is there to eat gourmet food.

4) Sometimes I put some cookies on a plate. Sometimes I don't. If juiceboxes are on sale at the Acme, I buy some. Sometimes I put out some bottles of sparkling water. If we have some beer, I put it in a tub. Sometimes I make a salad. The first time I did this, I made sure we had spaghetti, sauce, bread, salad, and a dessert. Now I made spaghetti and sauce. I put out a few pitchers of ice water and, like I said, usually some juice for kids. People bring things. I don't ask people to RSVP and tell me what they're bringing, and if they ask, I tell them that if it doesn't stress them out to bring something, they should feel free. Sometimes we have spaghetti, sauce, water, wine, and a million brownies. Sometimes we have lots of salads, sometimes we have none. Most important thing: NOBODY CARES.

5) We had 103 people at our house for spaghetti last month. I have a dining room table that seats 8. My house is about 2000 square feet. We have a screened porch and a pretty decent sized yard. The neighbor brought over some some tables and chairs. People find places to sit. Don't worry about it. Kids don't sit anyway.

6) I really didn't clean my bathrooms yesterday. I usually at least wipe them down with a Clorox wipe. Not yesterday. Didn't have time. NOBODY CARES.

7) I say over and over again, to anyone who will listen, "It's not a party, it's just spaghetti." And people say, "Well, it sure feels like a party." That may be. But in my head, it's NOT a party, which means I don't worry about who's having a good time, I don't make sure I've greeted everyone, I don't go out of my way to introduce people I'm not positive haven't met before, I don't refill glasses. People come in, I say hi, I make some introductions because I'm not a barbarian, I point people in the direction of food and then everyone does their thing.

8) Sit down. Eat some spaghetti. Make the noodles ahead of time, put them in a lightly oiled pan in the oven, set to 200. Dump them in a big bowl and serve everything all at once when everyone gets there. Put the sauce in a crock pot. Let people help. Don't fuss.

9) You will be surprised by how this small thing, this boiling of water and heating of sauce and setting out of plates changes you. Your family will start to ask, "When is the next Wednesday Spaghetti?" People will say, "Can I bring our neighbors?" You will, of course, say yes. You will feel funny about people's gratitude towards you for hosting this event, because you feel like they are giving something to you as much as you are doing something for them, even more so. People will tell you, over and over again, how much they love this, and they'll have this look on their faces, like, "Isn't it weird? I mean? It's just spaghetti, but..."

10) Drink this Kool-Aid. It's delicious. And I double dog dare you.

Wednesday Spaghetti has been on hold in my house for too long. But I'm back, and as soon as I can wrangle up my people I'll put on a pot of water and sit everyone around my table, just like olden times.

You can find Wednesday Spaghetti on Facebook!  I would love to see you like it.  I'm pretty sure it's set up correctly.  I'll play with it a bit more over the next week or so.

I hope everyone is doing well and you are all finding time to sit down with the people you love.

Selfish Spaghetti

Last night we had one of the best Wednesday Spaghettis ever. After each one, my husband and I do the recap and check in, since chances are we haven't had the chance to talk to each other all day up to that point. Some weeks he is more relaxed, some weeks I feel rushed, some weeks he feels like he hasn't helped enough (never true), and some weeks I fret that we didn't have enough salad/wine/bread/parm/whatever. We always have a great night, but we both agreed that there was something special about yesterday.

Maybe it was the weather. Yesterday was warm, and we opened up the windows and the doors and the kids played outside for most of the evening. Some people ate on the porch, christening it with red sauce and red wine for the season.

Maybe it was that most of the people there were "regulars." They knew the drill and didn't feel like they were at a party and they knew everybody and the neighborhood kids drifted in and out between homework assignments and just in time for dessert. I didn't feel like I desperately needed to talk to any guests who I hadn't seen in a while. I just hung out. We all did. And, as usual and with no small thanks to the whirlwind neighborlady cleanup squad, everybody was gone and the house was back together by 8:45.

I get embarrassed when the people who come for Wednesday Spaghetti make big pronouncements of gratitude for the fact that I do this thing I do once a month. Obviously, I appreciate their thanks, but I also feel like a bit of a fraud. While they may feel that I'm doing some kind of service for bringing us together and building community and providing an easy and comfortable environment for families to share a meal, I'm pretty sure I get more out of it than they do.

Spoiler Alert: I am a control freak. I know. You're stunned. I'll allow you a moment to recover or stop laughing.

Opening my doors to anyone who is interested once a month, on a work and school night, and not sweating the fact that the floor isn't mopped and there is visible dust and there is dog hair on the couch and that I haven't changed my clothes or brushed my hair since 7 that morning or that there is no way on this green earth that I'm going to have time to cook something designed to dazzle the palate and impress the herd has had a profound effect on me. Without dipping my toe too heavily into the churning waters of melodrama, let me just say that as much as anybody who comes to my house for Wednesday Spaghetti thinks he/she loves it, I love it more.


*WRH post..poached.

The Twelve Days of Spaghetti

On the first day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
A dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the second day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the third day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the fourth day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the fifth day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Five high school friends
four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the sixth day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Six jars of red sauce
five high school friends
four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the seventh day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Seven bowls of noodles
six jars of red sauce
five high school friends
four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the eighth day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Eight smiling toddlers
seven bowls of noodles
six jars of red sauce
five high school friends
four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the ninth day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Nine kids playing dress ups
eight smiling toddlers
seven bowls of noodles
six jars of red sauce
five high school friends
four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the tenth day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Ten helpful teens
nine kids playing dress ups
eight smiling toddlers
seven bowls of noodles
six jars of red sauce
five high school friendsf
our plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the eleventh day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Eleven late arrivals (highway closed all day, couldn't be helped)
ten helpful teens
nine kids playing dress ups
eight smiling toddlers
seven bowls of noodles
six jars of red sauce
five high school friends
four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

On the twelfth day of spaghetti, Well Read Hostess sent to me
Twelve times the joy
eleven late arrivals (highway closed all day, couldn't be helped)
ten helpful teens
nine kids playing dress ups
eight smiling toddlers
seven bowls of noodles
six jars of red sauce
five high school friends
four plates of cookies (most of which I ate myself)
three wine boxes
two birthday cakes
and a dog who ate a Christmas tree.

Today's history lesson:

On or sort of around this day in 2008, I was feeling a little stressed, apparently. As you can read about HERE.

Also, the "Twelve Days of Christmas" refers to the time between Christmas and the epiphany, which marks the day that one is struck by the sudden realization that her pants no longer fit her after eating Christmas cookies and chocolates for two weeks straight. A common myth about the lyrics to this song is that each of the items sent to "me" on the twelve days symbolizes a biblical or religious principle or event. For example, 11 Pipers Piping refers to the eleven faithful apostles. Snopes says otherwise, and frankly, it does seem like a bit of stretch to equate French hens with the theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity.