Life imitates art.
Just like in the book, woman throws dinner party, but the guests don't necessarily cooperate... Started with six guests and now there are four + me... I think... I haven't heard from two of them and that makes me nervous... My situation is entirely different than Grace's of course, because this was never meant to be a romantic dinner for two... but I am roasting a chicken.
See, when I went to Vegas about 5 years ago, I had this kick ass roast chicken at a "French" restaurant in one of the hotels, and I've been on a quest to duplicate it ever since -- just like the horseradish escalloped potatoes on my recipe page, except that in that case, I succeeded (I hate to fail, it chafes me). The chicken in the oven right now will be tasty, it's juicy and garlicky and... rosemary-y, but it's not going to be the chicken I had oh so many years ago. Geez, I feel like I'm obsessing over chicken... moving on...
It almost makes me sad when I get something that good because I know that (probably) nothing will ever compare to that experience (I'm not just talking about chicken anymore... just so you know...). Still, I guess it gives me something to shoot for, and I've decided that's the meaning of life -- having something to look forward to. I mean, imagine if you had everything you ever wanted -- do you think you would be happy? I don't. I'd still want something to look forward to, or else I'd stall out.
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