Buffet Plates

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of a visit from my very best friends, Amy and Darren. These two have been a shining spot in my life for the last six years. Amy was my "Big Sister" in our sorority in college. Darren was my boss at two different jobs. I was the maid of honor in their wedding. We lived near each other in both Lakeland, FL and Durham, NC. They are more than friends; they are family.

Amy is the kind of sister everyone wants but rarely gets. Supportive. Thoughtful. Caring. Fun.

Darren, on the other hand, is exactly the kind of brother most people have. Teasing. Annoyingly Protective. Argumentative. Darren and I, though we love each other, usually fight like brother and sister, intentionally goading the other one to see just how far we can push the other before they break.

This weekend, the three of us were constantly on the go. On Saturday, we drove a short way to one of my favorite places in Richmond, the Short Pump Town Center. This is an outdoor mall with many stores, great restaurants, and a lovely atmosphere. The weather was beautiful, the flowers were blooming, and we were equipped with frozen drinks and comfortable shoes.

As we wove through many of the stores, Amy and I brainstormed ideas for how to redecorate their bedroom. Thus, it was essential for us to hit all of the fancy home stores (some of my favorite places!). Towing Darren along, Amy and I fawned over everything we saw in Pottery Barn, Williams & Sonoma and Crate & Barrel.

As we turned the corner into the kitchen section of Crate & Barrel, Darren suddenly decided to have some fun at my expense. He began loudly proclaiming his need for Buffet Plates.

This wouldnt have been so bad... except that he pronounced them "Buff-it Plat-ays." 

I was mortified. 

Despite my general social mindedness (and my admittedly low income), I can not deny that I enjoy the finer things in life. I love the idea of sophistication and finery. I own Emily Post books (and I follow them!). I enjoy china and dinner parties. I dream of attending black tie affairs in beautiful gowns and having an entire house full of Crate & Barrel things, despite how expensive they are. I recognize that my taste is impractical and semi-ridiculous, but I cant help it.

Cue Darren, my best friend from a small back-woods Florida town, loudly going on about "buff-it plat-ays" in his subtly southern-accented voice. People, including sales clerks, were staring. I briefly considered if I could walk away as if I didnt know him, but certainly Darren would have followed me. Knowing my weaknesses and mortification, Darren laughed, enjoying himself at my expense. Thankfully, we were soon on our way out of the store and I could breathe again.

What is it that makes us so concerned about what others think of us? Why did I care about the strangers and the hillbilly impression my friend was giving off? Why did I respond with mortification rather than laughter? Did it REALLY matter what others thought? I felt as though I had been exposed... as if I didnt belong among such fine things and Darren was making that clear to everyone. He might as well have been shouting "Phony! Fraud!" as my projected image crashed to floor, shattering louder than an entire wall of falling buffet plates.


And... I am grateful. I am grateful that I have people in my life who remind me to be humble. I am grateful that I have people in my life who remind me to be genuine. I am grateful that I have people in my life who remind me to laugh (later, after the embarrassment fades).

Whether our homes come straight off the Crate & Barrel show room floor or our home is simply a C&B box, we shouldn't be embarrassed of who we are or what we (don't) have. Lesson (mostly) learned.