I was at a party this weekend where I only knew one other person. One-and-a-half people really — I knew my friend’s husband — a little bit — by sight, anyway. It was a small party and I was late so I had to walk into a room of established relationships (even if some of those relationships had only been established in the past hour). So I dithered in the kitchen over the food (homemade barbeque (North Carolina style), fresh corn salad, spring onions with rice, roasted vegetables, coleslaw and guacamole — all the more delicious since I didn’t make any of it myself!). Then I went in and sat down.
After the introductions, extreme self-consciousness set in. I remembered (too late) how shy I get in groups. Most of the guests were younger than me and were talking about things that were only peripheral to my life these days — cafes to visit (I only go to those within walking distance — with the twins in their stroller), meals to make (I spend most of my time in the kitchen cutting bananas into slices then quarters for tiny hands and half-toothed mouths), classes to take (I’m lucky to watch something educational on PBS before nodding off), grapes to pickle (see banana slicing above) …