Surviving the Hosts from Hell 

          It’s so brave of you two to roast your first suckling pig with two dozen foodie friends sitting by and nibbling celery all afternoon in anticipation.

          Of course I don’t mind sharing my room with your grandmother and her companion.

          You could have been a social director on a major cruise line. I can’t believe what a busy schedule you’ve arranged for us.

          No way you could have known everyone would bring two house guests. I don’t blame you one bit for calling Pizza Hut.

          Plastic forks are fun.

          Don’t be silly. Should I be upset just because you invited my ex with his new wife and forgot to tell me?

          I agree with you, A perfect presentation on the plate is thrilling, much more important than getting to dessert and bed before 2 a.m.

          Are you sure you just a few bottles of red wine will be enough? I don’t mind running out for a case if you need it.

          Any chance your daughter will be out of the bathroom in an hour or two?

          You said “very casual.” But when someone looks as good in Oscar de la Renta evening pajamas as you do, I say, it’s the new casual.

          Of course I can wash the salad and strip the corn and make sure the kids eat their chicken nuggets while you get your hair blown.

          I know how important it is for your husband’s future to sit next to Bill Gates, my husband will be divinely happy sitting between the tutor and your mother-in-law’s driver.   

          Don’t be upset that you spilled the cassoulet on me.  Your husband’s keen reflexes, ripping off my blouse kept me from serious burns.

This essay first appeared in Plum Magazine, June 2011.