Super Hero dinner!

Faster than a speeding Prius!
More powerful than a locavore!
Able to sweep tall buildings with a single broom!

It's absurd; it's insane; it's . . . Super Miser Family!

See me flying by???

What I love about habit and tradition is that it makes all kinds of things easier, even kinda kooky things.  Our family has such a habit of "Special Dinners" that, even though I've felt a bit swamped with (and frankly, even a bit dragged down by) grading exams, somehow this latest special dinner all fell together lovely on a late Sunday afternoon.

Food?  Well, even though it's only the Second Annual Super Hero Dinner, we had a menu precedent from last year.  (Super Heroes eat pizza and drink [root] beer, apparently).  Clothing?  Well, some of us were more Super-y than others, but mild-mannered clothing is always welcome, and those of us who suit up more spectacularly already had the spectacular lying in wait.  And super guests?  Well, that happened, too (more on that, below). 

But back to the food:  I've long been a proponent of the "Pantry Principle" I first read about in the most excellent Tightwad Gazette.   I keep vast supplies of flour, yeast, and other baking supplies in the basement, so whipping up a birthday cake for J-son and dough for pizza was as easy as . . . well, as easy as pizza dough and cake.  I keep canning jars of tomatoes in the basement as well, and blocks of cheese in the freezer, so the rest of the pizza emerged from the basement and the freezer right on cue.  Odds and ends from our CSA turned into pizza toppings.  In fact, the only shopping needed was a bit of icing (since J-son asked for a different kind of cake than I usually make) and root beer. 

As for activities, a long history of special dinners meant that the family showed up ready for action.  There were costumes (even my husband wore special super hero socks --- he knows I'm a sucker for a man with socks appeal).  One of my daughters showed up and announced, "I can't stay for very long, but I made sure to show up in time for the photo" . . . and for some reason, it was only then that I realized that taking photos at Special Dinners has become Tradition with a capital T. 

J-son is stuck in a tube.
N-son got his turn being stuck next . . . 

After dinner, there was traditional silliness, with the majority of silliness provided (per usual) by the younger generation.  J-son and N-son, who are diligently working their way upward out of the "younger generation" label, were goaded on by some crazed woman (me) to try to fit through my granddaughter's rainbow-colored crawling tubes.  You kind of had to be there to appreciate how funny that was. 

A-child, of course, had no trouble at all showing her uncles just how easy it was for her to slip on through.  Super Crawler! 


We were really fortunate to have a pair of Super Guests (who managed to escape photographic detection).  In keeping with the theme of "making hard things easier", both of these guests were people we invited because we're in awe of their Super Organizational Powers.   My daughter brought a friend who corrals our local chorus, and who also is becoming my applesauce buddy.  My husband brought a new friend who is one of the driving forces behind the structure of the Tuesdays with Toomey protests.  She's credited by just about everyone who attends with creating the framework (from pre-planning beforehand, to celebrating "Weekly Victories" together, to sending thank-you notes afterward) that make the weekly events such a smoothly running and powerful way for people to come together.  While she was with us, she told me a tiny bit about her love for process and structure (including -- be still my beating heart -- rules for dealing with trash).  I kind of wish I'd pumped her more . . . although  I admit I was a bit distracted by young men hollering that they were stuck in rainbow tubes. 

So, in the midst of my kids running in and out of the house on the way to chorus, K-daughter needing advice about job hunting, J-son celebrating a birthday, N-son getting ready to head off for a two-week evaluation at his new school, and a pile of exams still smoldering on my desk . . . in the midst of all this, we could still come together with family and friends for celebration of the Good Stuff of life. 

So, huzzah for pantries, huzzah for traditions, and huzzah for Super Organized guests who make the world a better place. 

Awww . .  .