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The Gelato & Gasoline party was scheduled for Saturday. Entertainment would be me, dramatically sliding focaccia onto wooden boards. Lifestyle cred would be infinite.
When the guests arrived, they didn’t see a failed renovation. They saw a woman drinking Chianti out of a jelly jar, blasting Bonnie Raitt, with a stack of pizza boxes labeled “Artisanal Flatbreads.” 40SomethingMag - Kat Marie - It-s a great fucki...
The next morning, I announced to Mark, “I’m buying a vintage oven and throwing a Gelato & Gasoline party.” The Gelato & Gasoline party was scheduled for Saturday
He opened one eye. “A what party?”
There’s a specific kind of delusion that sets in right around your 44th birthday. I call it the “Interior Renovation Cascade.” It starts innocently—a throw pillow you saw on Instagram. Then, suddenly, you’re on a first-name basis with the guy at the tile counter at Floor & Decor, and you’ve convinced yourself that removing a load-bearing wall is “just a little drywall dust.” When the guests arrived, they didn’t see a