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I'm delusional. I get something in my head and just know it's going to be perfect. Too bad I'm distracted by the computer, errands, poopy diapers, and educating my children. I'm also distracted by sitting on the couch for 30 minutes and staring into space. Perhaps I'm thinking of how perfect everything could be.

Picture it... Gleaming white tablecloth, candles, house that is just filled with good smells coming from the kitchen. My make-up perfectly done; my hair curled and coiffed. Tea is chilling in the fridge and coffee is ready to brew at the touch of a button. The house is clean, the table is set, and Christmas music is softly playing. I'm laughing with my adoring hubby and he is thinking how lucky he is to be married to me. That's how I pictured last night with company was going to be.

The menu:

Baked Maple Dijon Chicken Thighs
Whipped Sweet Potatoes with Marshmellows
Steamed Broccoli
Pumpkin Pie with Whipped Cream

We had Matt and Heather Davis and their boys over for dinner last night. They were due between 6 and 6:30. I knew since lunchtime they were coming. The house was basically clean and just needed some tidying up. Laundry needed to be put away, the house vacuumed, the bathroom cleaned, the kitchen floors mopped, and the food prepared. No big deal. I also needed to shower. I usually don't shower in the morning because I think all day that I'm going to exercise and usually shower in the afternoon when I see that I'm not going to get exercising done. So, by 4:15 in the afternoon I'm still wearing sweats and starting to mix up the pie. The bathroom is done, the laundry put away and the chicken is ready for the Maple Dijon sauce. I've given up on mopping the kitchen floor, I'll just spot sweep. 4:30...pie goes in the oven, and I call Quinn to see if he can swing by the store to pick up marjoram (a spice I've never heard of before) that needs to go in the Maple Dijon sauce (of course, I have to try a recipe I've never tried before on company dinner). I also asked him to pick up fresh broccoli and an extra sweet potato. I cut up the potatoes and put them in a pot to boil and finish tidying up the living room, leaving the vacuuming until just before 6:00. The chicken only needs its sauce and it will go in the oven at 5:30. Time to shower. I'm just about to jump in when BOOM! pitch blackness overtakes my house. Great. Quinn pulls in and we light some candles. I do not get in the shower because I cannot dry my hair with the power off and I must be able to dry my hair. I make the sauce in the dark and hope the power comes on by 5:30. Nope. Quinn suggests we order pizza. That reminds me of the pie, which I had forgotten about because the timer is on the microwave (which is not working because there is no power) and I go look at the pie. It is done so I take it out and it looks nice (by candlelight anyway). We talk about ordering pizza again, which depresses me because of everything I've already gotten ready. By 5:55, I've given up that vacuuming, sweeping, and a much-needed shower will get done. The raw chicken is sitting on the counter and the potatoes are halfway done on the stove. Quinn then suggests that we can grill the chicken! Brilliant, although the chicken recipe is supposed to be baked, I'll take anything at this point. He turns on the grill and then the there's a knock on the door. The Davis' arrive and the men head outside immediately to the grill. Heather wipes off the table for me (another thing that didn't get done) and I inspect the potatoes. Fortunately, the potatoes sat in the water so long that they got soft and I can handmash them. I do not like handmashing potatoes, because I think they taste better when they are whipped with a handmixer. Oh well, I chunk in some butter, brown sugar, heavy cream, salt, and cinnamon (never made mashed sweet potatoes before-again the new recipe thing) and then think "maybe they need marshmellows". Pour in marshmellows and take the pot out to the grill to see if we can use the grill to melt the marshmellows. The broccoli is already in a pot on the grill. Heather and I set the table and get juice boxes for the kids, who are running around screaming and scaring each other with flashlights. I remember, just before dinner, that my Uncle Wayne had given us this ENORMOUS flashlight that has "1,000,000 candle power" a while back, so I lug that out and we have a glaring spotlight in the living room for dinner (thanks Uncle Wayne). At least it's light. Dinner is ready. The chicken is good, the sweet potatoes are eaten only by polite adults, and the broccoli needs A LOT of salt. We should've had bread, but it wasn't in my head for the magic menu, so we didn't have it.

After dinner, the men take all the kids to go look at the "SUPER, FANTASTIC, GRISWOLD-LIKE" Christmas lights at a house in Moody (apparently there was electricity somewhere) and Heather and I sit on the couch and eat pumpkin pie with plenty of Cool Whip by ourselves, talking about how we are too attached to electricity. It scares me a wee bit to think of POOF! not having electricity ever again. What would we do? Anyway, the lights come back on just before the men get back and the kids play upstairs and we eat pie and sit and talk. It was great. Even if I did have on sweats and hair that hadn't been washed since Tuesday. There was no coffee brewing and I had forgotten to make tea earlier that day, but the house did smell good, thanks to the previously baked pumpkin pie and somehow it didn't matter anymore anyway. Good times.

Speaking of, I'm still wearing those sweats and I need to shower and wash my hair that (still) hasn't been washed since Tuesday. Melissa and Ginger are coming over for coffee at 10AM. Maybe I can get it done before they come. I wonder if I should try to mop my floor...

Pop in if you've got the gumption.