Italian grandmother

We have our Novitas staff retreat this weekend, and it’ll be somewhere between 12 and 15 people, ranging from early 20s to early 40s. Some couples, some folks without their partners. We’re going to sit around and geek out about our game and our club and our world, and then we’re going to have a party, and then we’re going to do more work for the club and the game. And in there, we need to eat. Somehow I volunteered to bring pulled pork and shredded beef, because it’s an easy way to make meat for a crowd, and it crockpots.

And so here I am, with probably 7 pounds of shredded meat, worrying that it’s not going to be enough food. So I posted to our staff forum asking other people to bring sides, buns, etc.

Through it all, there’s a part of my brain thinking, “What the hell are you obsessing about?” while the other part of my brain screams “if there’s not enough food it’s an insult and a poor reflection on your hospitality!”

Except I’m not the hostess. I’m just a part of the group. But they’re my friends! And we show love by feeding people!

I’m blaming Italian Grandmother Syndrome.

Brett, Melissa, Jenica, and Grandma Florence

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