Moving On Up

The holidays are sneaking up on me faster than a seven year old boy should run away from Michael Jackson. Don't get me wrong, I love Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's. I really, really do. Time with family, a few days away from work, getting to break out your fat pants for the gorge fests we Americans nonchalantly call dinners, bowl games, ginormous rings from the one you love in a little box under the tree (okay, okay, wishful thinking, but a girl can dream)--all treasures of the season. However, I always seem to find myself a little relieved when it's over.

I'm beginning to feel my usual stresses of the season. The anxiety of gift ideas (for me going out and picking up something isn't the problem, it's determining a suitable gift for someone to show them they mean something to me, yet the purchase of said item doesn't mean that come January I have to make my home in a box on the street corner). The "dear gawd, I need to exfoliate" feeling of drier skin. The dread of walking out of my apartment in the mornings, still half asleep, forced into exercise before noon (one of my biggest pet peeves) because I have to spend ten minutes scraping ice from the windows of my car. The annoyance of people who drive with wreaths on their cars--it's an automobile, not your home. The emotional torture of having to give your most Oscar worthy performance while you try to convince your grandma you really do love purple argyle leg warmers, and they'll be the perfect accessory for your work outfit on Monday, when you're actually just forced to drive all the way to GoodWill and donate them because your grandma didn't put a gift receipt in the box. The unexplainable pressure we all feel to have the most to die for New Year's Eve party to attend, otherwise you will be the social leper of the entire city, but you can't seem to find one to grace with your presence as they all seem to boast a cover charge equal to an entire month's rent.

All of these things add up. By the time the calendar turns to January 2nd I usually find myself spent, emotionally and checkbook-ally. But, guess what? This year I have a new stress point to add to that list.

I have come to realize that I am officially one of "the women" at the holiday dinners. The only problem with my graduation to the adult table is that I must now also become a member of the please bring a side dish club. Naturally, I have absolutely zero idea what in the hell I should make/buy/bring to any of the upcoming dinners. The worst part is that I am finding myself way over thinking this, especially the what do I bring to the dinner at Maverick's aunt's house part. I feel like it has to be something unbelievably tasty and memorable, in some sort of unnatural I really need to impress these people way. Which is just silly considering I've met the members of his family several times. For some reason though, I am stuck in this Paula Deen, Emily Post, June Cleaver realm of perfection.

Soooooooo, any ideas on a fantabulous appetizer type dish?