feed me, seymour
Oh, how I love it when people have us over for dinner (thank you, Gary and Ruth). We really enjoy having people over to our house (and when we do, we have a habit of cooking as if a small Eastern European country may be stopping by without prior notice), but we are thrilled when someone else does the honours. I love going to Paul's Mum and Dad's for the weekend, because there's usually a fabulous Sunday lunch involved. One of the first things my Mom does for me whenever I come home for a visit (whatever time of day) is have a meal waiting for me. We're not lazy, it's just such a treat to sit at a table and have food placed in front of us.
In my family, food is a gift. When someone has you over for dinner, you thank them for this lovely gift by bringing them the gift of even more food. When you have people over, you send them home with food (preferably not the food they arrived with as their gift to you). You bring food to birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, funerals, and bon voyage parties. You bring food even if your host begs you not to bring anything and the table is already starting to buckle under the weight of 800 lbs. of potato salad. My Mom spends $100 on postage to send me food, and has been sending me care packages for the last 18 years since I left home. When Jack and Heather announced the birth of their daughter, one of my first thoughts was that I must bring them food (and I did). All of our gatherings with friends involve food. My hen night will end with a dinner. We picked our wedding venue based on the fact that we loved the food. One of the things that impressed me about Paul (and still does) is his ability to cook. The way to this woman's heart is through her rather voluminous stomach.
And of course there's wine. We will accept that as thanks for a dinner anytime.