Part of the appeal of Diner en Blanc, both in how it promotes itself and in terms of how it pings my interest, is that it’s difficult. But it’s really, really difficult, and the event isn’t even until tomorrow.
I have, in the last week: gone to Ikea to buy the recommended table and chairs, only to find the chairs sold out and the table discontinued (I bought other, more expensive chairs instead); visited every random close-out store within a few miles of my house looking for a table of the appropriate dimensions (this has largely resulted in me explaining, over and over, the difference between a square and a rectangle. Today I succumbed and bought the closest thing I could find despite it being two inches too big on each side); and wondered if I have to wrap the black legs of said not entirely appropriate table in white electrical tape since the table is black. I’m hoping the tablecloth will suffice.
The event is tomorrow. We’re still missing things (electric votive candles, white cloth napkins, a white tote bag), and we haven’t really done menu planning. We’re not actually sure we’ll be able to carry all this crap (Patty will be fine, but I don’t have great upper body strength); or that it’s not going to rain in epic fashion. I am, by turns, in despair, foolishly optimistic, and too busy too care.
But, on the plus side, we now own two folding chairs and a card table; our grass has been mowed; and we may eat dinner in the backyard tonight.
And if Diner en Blanc kicks us out tomorrow over an extra two inches? I’ll be laughing forever.