Observations from the super comfy sidelines

The Lost Supper Club, Issue #36, Feb.3,2025: observations from the sidelines, a fun supper club idea, 3 NEW recipes + a recipe from the cookbook, a reading recommendation, printable recipe cards

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In this issue:

1. Observations from the super comfy sidelines

2. This week’s challenge: Introduce yourself! Who are you? Where do you call home? What is one interesting thing you can tell us about yourself?

3. The Traveling Friday Night Mooch-a-Meal Club! - A super fun idea from a Lost Supper Club member!

4. Printable recipe cards! A new perk of being a Lost Supper Club member (paid subscriber) is that you will receive downloadable and printable pdfs of every recipe! Scroll to the bottom of this issue to download all the recipes in this issue + all the January recipes!

5. 3 New recipes! Chimichurri Steak Fries, Orange Marmalade and Poppy Seed Muffins with Sage, Spaghetti Squash Kimchi Bowls

6. A recipe from the cookbook: Creamy Chicken and Potato Soup with Chilies and Cheese

7. Reading recommendations

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One quick thing before we dive in, I was so honored to be a guest on Stephanie Hansen’s remarkable podcast, Dishing with Stephanie’s Dish! 🎉 Stephanie is a skilled broadcaster and when you are a guest on her show it is immediately apparent that you are in good hands and can just relax. The ability to capture and showcase other people’s stories is such a valuable gift, isn’t it?

If you listen, I hope you enjoy!

Rebecca Blackwell

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Observations from the super comfy sidelines

“We cannot stay home all our lives, we must present ourselves to the world and we must look upon it as an adventure.”

— Beatrix Potter

One of our favorite solitary locations, parked on an isolated corner of the Flaming Gorge.

We all tend towards something and Steve and I are the kind of people who tend towards solitude, each in our own way and for our own reasons.

As a toddler, one of my oft repeated phrases, so I’ve been told, was, “Leave alone. I do it myself.” This tracks because it is still how I prefer to do almost everything. By myself, on my own, with no one watching or interrupting.

I do not want to go to exercise classes or any sort of thing that requires group participation. When our kids were younger I did not join the PTA or the many neighborhood or community associations or sign up to be the class mom. I have happily worked for myself, with myself, and by myself for nearly 20 years.

When we lived in a house in a neighborhood the only reason we knew any of our neighbors was because we lived next door to a woman who knew all the neighbors. She can be credited with introducing us to literally every other neighbor we came to know during the 16 years we lived there.

One of our motivations for moving into an RV was the ability to park ourselves in solitary locations. And also (sorry to toss this at you in the middle here but it’s a sizable part of the story), our son died the week we moved from his childhood home into our RV. And for a couple of years, large, open, solitary spaces saved us. That can honestly not be understated. I know the value of solitude and am not ever giving it up. But perhaps it doesn’t need to occupy so much space anymore?

None of this should be interpreted as evidence that I am not utterly fascinated by the world and the people living in it.

Traveling around the country as we do, one of our favorite things is discovering new places to people watch. We are happy to interact when interaction is required, but perfectly content to sit on the sidelines and observe other people’s interactions for hours.

So it might seem an odd choice that I’ve turned our year into a series of social Lost Supper Club events.

If you’ve noticed that contradiction, you’re not the only one.

After missing a call from our youngest daughter because we invited campers that we had just met over for cake, she replied, “When did you and dad become so social? It’s weird.”

In my almost 50 years on this planet, I have often matched my behavior to the perceived requirements of the social situation. I know you know what I mean.

At social events for Steve’s work, for example, there was (is) and internal switch I could flip on and be all smiles and laughter and interested questions and conversation starters. It’s not that it was entirely an act. That person is also me. But it also isn’t completely me. She is the performer. A caricature, if you will. There is truth in it, but the truth is perhaps more interpretive and representational.

Playing that part can sometimes be fun. But it’s also almost always exhausting.

The aforementioned daughter of mine called me out on it one day. She said sometimes it seems like I’m performing. She struggled to communicate what she meant. But I knew.

So, you can see why watching from the sidelines is so appealing. I really do like people. Humans fascinate and capture me. Books, movies, and documentaries based on a true story are my favorite kind. As a spectator, you get to sit back and watch the show with no pressure to perform. No one is looking at you. No one is expecting anything from you.

I love that.

But, it’s a double edged sword, isn’t it? Because it doesn’t matter who you are or what your story is, meaningful social connection is a vital part of our humanity. Without it we are lesser. Our life is not as rich. You can’t connect from that observational post.

So lately I’ve been doing a lot of reflection about how to be in social situations and just be me. Fully me, I mean. No performance required. What, I think, would it be like to be in the relaxed state of a spectator while also being social?

Also, what if all those expectations I think are coming from other people are really mostly coming from me?

I asked that question last week in notes and someone replied to say that when they think about what they must bring to social situations they freeze up. But when they think about how they might receive social interactions, the pressure abates.

How intriguing. It strikes me that the attitude of receiving is akin to just being present. It requires a deeper focus on listening and seeing the other person and somehow manages to lessen that weird pressure to perform.

(As an aside, a more negative interpretation of receiving is someone who we might call a taker. These are the types of people who are mainly interested in what they can get from others not what they can give. That’s not what I’m taking about here.)

Anyhoo.

My grand experiment this year is to increase the number of meaningful social connections in my life and give my inner performer some time off, maybe move her into semi-retirement.

For all of you who relate, and those of you who don’t relate but are here to offer some gentle guidance and encouragement, I’m grateful to have you in the same boat.

And on that note… might you be willing to introduce yourself?

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