About twenty (!) years ago, upon the occasion of my graduation from college, my mother’s friend asked me what I wanted to be (“when I grew up” implied).  Much to the visible dismay of my father, who hadn’t paid for boarding school and an ivy league education for nothing, I answered, “A well-read hostess.”  I hadn’t really thought about it before the words tumbled out of me, but really, at that point, it seemed like as good an answer as any.

It’s become kind of a joke in my family.  Ha ha.  A well-read hostess.  Isn’t she funny.  But actually, two decades later, I think this is still what I want to be (“when I grow up” implied).

It turns out, though, that this is much harder than it sounds.

Merry Christmas everybody.