Last night, Puppy and I attended a very adult dinner party at the home of one of my co-workers. In total, we were four couples, having a tasty feast of short ribs, green beans, cauliflower (I had no idea there was such a thing as purple cauliflower!), potatoes and a pavlova for dessert. Two of the couples were straight with babies at home, and the host couple had a two-year old dog. Throughout the meal, we discussed our pets, babies and other domestic topics like cooking and watching Dallas on DVD. Had this dinner party taken place a year ago, I'm not sure I would have had anything to contribute to the conversation. Thank goodness I could regale the others with stories of my cat sleeping on my head.
It was a nice, calm evening and I enjoyed myself overall, but when did my Saturday nights become such a yawn-fest?
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