It’s true according to my very cursory google search, an estimated one in ten people has a third nipple.  This number surprised me.  I’ve never seen an ancillary nipple…but then again, I guess I haven’t been looking.

Last night we had one of the best Wednesday Spaghettis ever.  After each one, my husband and I do the recap and check in, since chances are we haven’t had the chance to talk to each other all day up to that point.  Some weeks he is more relaxed, some weeks I feel rushed, some weeks he feels like he hasn’t helped enough (never true), and some weeks I fret that we didn’t have enough salad/wine/bread/parm/whatever.  We always have a great night, but we both agreed that there was something special about yesterday.

Maybe it was the weather.  Yesterday was warm, and we opened up the windows and the doors and the kids played outside for most of the evening.  Some people ate on the porch, christening it with red sauce and red wine for the season.

Maybe it was that most of the people there were “regulars.”  They knew the drill and didn’t feel like they were at a party and they knew everybody and the neighborhood kids drifted in and out between homework assignments and just in time for dessert.  I didn’t feel like I desperately needed to talk to any guests who I hadn’t seen in a while.  I just hung out.  We all did.  And, as usual and with no small thanks to the whirlwind neighborlady cleanup squad, everybody was gone and the house was back together by 8:45. 

I get embarrassed when the people who come for Wednesday Spaghetti make big pronouncements of gratitude for the fact that I do this thing I do once a month.  Obviously, I appreciate their thanks, but I also feel like a bit of a fraud.  While they may feel that I’m doing some kind of service for bringing us together and building community and providing an easy and comfortable environment for families to share a meal, I’m pretty sure I get more out of it than they do.

Spoiler Alert:  I am a control freak.  I  know.  You’re stunned.  I’ll allow you a moment to recover  or stop laughing.

Opening my doors to anyone who is interested once a month, on a work and school night, and not sweating the fact that the floor isn’t mopped and there is visible dust and there is dog hair on the couch and that I haven’t changed my clothes or brushed my hair since 7 that morning or that there is no way on this green earth that I’m going to have time to cook something designed to dazzle the palate and impress the herd has had a profound effect on me.  Without dipping my toe too heavily into the churning waters of melodrama, let me just say that as much as anybody who comes to my house for Wednesday Spaghetti thinks he/she loves it, I love it more.

Here’s why*


 







     



                                                                      



“Wednesday Spaghetti was formed to increase public awareness of the need for families, caregivers, and peer groups to spend quality time together in an in-home, casual dining setting in order to discuss general life issues, household guidelines and practices, personal habits, issues, and goals, educational habits, issues, and goals, employment habits, issues and goals, family habits, issues, and goals, physical health-related issues, sexual health-related issues, emotional health-related issues, spiritual issues, relationship issues, community events and resources, and other such topics; to support and conduct nonpartisan research, educational and informational activities to increase public awareness of the importance of togetherness, communication, and good nutrition; to provide simple to make, nutritious meals to any family or group in the community, regardless of race, color, creed, sexuality, religious beliefs, ethnicity, economic status, or location at no cost to the family or group.”  Lora. Wednesday Spaghetti Manifesto. 

Why the third nipple thing?  Let’s consider something.  Nipples.  Everybody’s got them.  Men’s nipples are nice, but not the same as women’s nipples, which are nice, but serve an important function.  Nipples conjure images of maternity.  Also giggling, because have you ever heard such a funny word?  Say that ten times fast.  Nipple.  Nipple.  Nipple.  Nipple. Nipple….see?  You’re laughing already, aren’t you?  Why maternity and why three nipples and what do they have to do with spaghetti and why I am the way I am?  Tune in tomorrow and I’ll finish my story. 


*The pictures are  blurry on purpose…no faces.