In our New York apartment we were starting to feel like Ginny Sack might feel if she were to squeeze into a pair of her husbands sharkskin pants….a little, ahem, cramped. Once we purchased our 3 bedroom with a den, formal living room and enviable Man Cave, we rattled around for a couple of days until it dawned on us that if there was anywhere to have a party, it was here. At first we worried that our friends might blow off an invitation in the suburbs faster than a toupee in wind, but I’m a huge believer that if you build it, they will come, and at the end of the day we had people coming in droves from the far off lands of Philadelphia, Washington DC, and 3 of the 5 Boroughs. We welcomed people into our new house and toured them around like proud parents. People noted with surprise and enthusiasm that the trip on the NJ Transit was speedy and easy, and it seemed to occur to them that we could now enjoy pleasures such a grilling and not having to sneak our dogs outside in a bowling ball bag to pee.
Our friends met our neighbors, (a foreign concept to many Manhattanites), and people were finally starting to see that moving a stones throw away from The Big Apple actually gave us a pretty impressive quality of life. We had space to stretch out, buy a couch that didn’t have to be sawed in half to get through the doorframe, and start living with some room to breathe. Again, I wouldn’t have traded my decade living in apartments full of character, but our house has character, and now we have the space to put people in it without having to ask them to eat with plates balanced on their knees or to spend the night in an armchair.