Essay: Party-planning perils

Throwing a party is a good idea — at least, before the date draws nigh, at which point I often want to throw the occasion, and myself, out the window.

Don't get me wrong: I love hosting parties. Bringing my friends together to talk, laugh and have amiable arguments is deeply satisfying. And because I know everyone, I don't have to reveal how embarrassingly inept I am when confronted with strangers ("Erm, delicious cheese, isn't it?").

Start with a list
But party prep should be right up there on the stress scale along with moving house and divorce.

First, there are the lists, starting with guests and moving on to food, wine/beer, plates, cutlery, glasses, serving dishes. Lists give me a deceptive sense of control until I actually attempt to tackle one. I forage in the basement for spare wineglasses, to find only dusty Lego and — wow! — the tax file I thought I'd lost! But no glasses. Sweating, I call friends, who volunteer to bring over extras. Whew.

Then there's the shopping (surely hauling huge bags of groceries counts as a workout?), cooking and worrying. Inevitably, I become convinced I won't have enough food.

It's like one of those Grade 3 math problems coupled with existentialist concepts only a philosopher could untangle. If 35 people are together for four or five hours, some of them hungry, some only wanting a snack, calculate what you should prepare, given they will become either more or less hungry the more they drink, depending on the individual.

So when the doorbell rings, I'm a wreck. I'm usually taking frozen sausage rolls out of the oven with one hand and trying to put on earrings with the other.

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Thinking back to simpler times...
Lately, I've been thinking about the parties my housemates and I had in our 20s.

We bought chips 'n' dip, put out a few hunks of cheese, bread and crackers, chopped up carrots and celery, and laid in a few bottles of cheap wine and some beer. If we felt rich, we got grapes, too.

Our friends brought equally cheap drinks, and we danced, talked, flirted, ate cheese and played loud music.

We didn't worry about dishes — you don't need a plate to eat potato chips. And we didn't sweat running out of food — there was always pizza.

As for glasses, we bought plastic ones and reused them after the party until they fell apart.

Thanks to this flashback to simpler times, my latest party plan is to have a no-stress get-together with chips 'n' dip (OK, exotic chips and gourmet dip), some wine and beer (yes, more palatable than the plonk we used to drink) and that's it. Except for lots of energetic talk and dancing. After all, if we're hungry, I can just pick up the phone.

Hope to have better luck with your own parties? We have some advice for the holiday hostess.

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