I Was Fancy Until I Wasn’t

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been here. I’m good. Living life as a wife, doing my morning devotion with Jesus Calling and The Upper Room, and working out.

I switched my Peloton plan from Cardio and Strength to weight management. The heat is creeping up on us, and I’m a homebody when Phoenix decides to remind us where we live. A weight management plan made sense.

One search for healthy meals to support weight loss, and now my feed has me hostage. Breakfast to dinner. Smoothies to salads. I’m not mad about it.

Salads are my thing. More specifically, making my own vinaigrette. Olive oil with apple cider vinegar or white balsamic as the base. From there, the added ingredients determine the dressing you want. My favorite is honey mustard vinaigrette. If you want the recipe, I’m happy to share.

Which brings me to how I got here.

A few years ago, I hosted a dinner party. I put together a spread I was proud of: fresh garden salad, beef and sausage lasagna, shrimp pasta in a garlic lemon butter sauce, sourdough garlic parmesan bread, and strawberry shortcake.

For the salad, I set out three dressings: Italian, ranch, and honey mustard.

All store-bought.

I was fancy until I wasn’t.

Most of the guests filtered out as the evening wound down. Maxine was the last to leave. Looking back, I think she was waiting for the right moment to say something. Like she couldn’t let the evening close without getting it out.

When it was her turn to go, we hugged and said our goodbyes. She thanked me for the invitation, said she had a wonderful time, and told me the meal was delicious. It warmed my heart. I told her I was honored to share the evening with such a cool group of women.

Then she smiled and said she had never attended a dinner party that served bottled dressings.

I was surprised, but I had to ask.

“Did the bottles offend you?”

In my head, I was already thinking about those small bottles I had seen at TJ Maxx. That size would have been perfect to pour the dressings into. I kept that to myself.

I waited for her response.

Maxine said, “No, dear. You don’t buy dressings. You make them.”

I smiled and told her to send me the recipe. I promised I would try it and report back.

Later, I told our mutual friend Pat about Maxine’s feedback. We both laughed at my classless offense.

Needless to say, Maxine never sent the recipe.

#052630