Last night I hustled my bustle over to the Royal Panda for our Arts Alliance annual December meeting and dinner party. This year, everyone decided it would be great fun to meet at Mr. Wu’s. Normally we meet at someone’s home, and it is either catered or members bring their favorite holiday dishes. But this year it will be pot stickers instead of pot luck!
Knowing that I had things to wrap up regarding our concert yesterday, and with another rehearsal to attend after the meeting, I was running a tad late. As I hurried up the walk from the back side parking lot, I peered in the window, straining to see how many of my cohorts were gathered inside. But I couldn’t see them.
Because they were not there!
I had the day wrong. I felt like lowly worm.
I had told Mr. Wu the wrong day. Like the book I read when I was in fifth grade, a Wrinkle in Time, I had become unstuck in time. The way the last few weeks have been, it seems like we should be buying Valentines instead of Christmas cards. I felt just awful.
Mr. Wu, as usual and of course, had knocked the ball out of the ball park and over the Great Wall. The place looked like a million bucks. The holiday lights sparkled in the window, candle light flickered in the large silver epergne gleaming on the table and in crystal votives, peonies were in the vase, and Mr. Wu’s elegant black napkins perched on the place mats, ready for action.
Mr. Wu also had brought in an extra server, a fine young fellow who is both attentive and professional to make certain that the evening would go smoothly. He lives close-by, thank heavens, and Mr. Wu let him go back home after I confessed my foolish mistake.
Well, as you can see, the party room, as I call it, is as beautiful, elegant, and even romantic a place to dine as there is anywhere. If I had good news of any kind to announce to my family and friends, this is where I would go to tell it.
Although the first thing I would do is to look at my calendar to make sure I would not be the only one there to hear it.
I felt guilty when Mr. Wu brought me my two boxes of Wu Food–I was able to leave with something delicious, while Mr. Wu had to blow out the candles and move the tables back. When I returned home from our rehearsal, I was able to recall with gratitude his gentle laugh and amusement at my Big Boo Boo. And I enjoyed Mr. Wu’s forgiveness as much as I enjoyed his beautiful presentation of shrimp with Chinese vegetables that I call Shrimp with Jade Vegetables, because the celery and the snow peas and broccoli look like jade in various shades of green.
Come to think of it, the green of the veggies and the Rudolph red of my face made for a very festive evening. All I can say is that Mr. Wu is a very, very gracious man.
The Wu Food Project 