Veggie & dip serving tray

Past: My guy is much more extroverted than I am—or will ever be. And back when he was in business school, he decided to invite his entire class over for a year-end party. And not class as in the people sitting in the same room as you. No, class as in all hundred-plus full-time first-years. That’s a lot of people! So, I did what any good live-in girlfriend/default co-hostess would do: I went on a mini spending spree at Target. And because all good parties have dip, it seemed a no-brainer to purchase this veggie & dip serving tray.

That evening, we probably had 75 people or so milling around our backyard, wandering in and out of the house. It was a one-story house we lived in, with Teddy, my beloved big orange cat. My big orange indoor cat. That night stands out in my memory as the night Teddy got his first taste of freedom.

Understandably so, someone had left a door ajar . . . and while I was outside talking with the two non-b-school people at the party, I saw a flicker of orange out of the corner of my eye. It was Teddy, setting his paws on the Earth for the first time. The look in his eyes said “I’m really freaked out”—and I’m sure the look on my face said pretty much the same. I swept him up, shooed him into the kitchen, and that was that. I have no other recollections of that party—other than the fact that absolutely no one ate the dip.

That was May 2003. We haven’t used that dip tray since. For five years now, I’ve let this beast take up precious space in my cabinets—taunting me as I try and wiggle out a Pyrex dish without first removing the dip tray. I’m not a party-thrower—and not one for plastic containers of any size. So, one rainy day I decided enough was enough. Let the craigslisters have at it.

Present: I suppose picnic season is behind us, but that doesn’t matter. I got just one response to my veggie & dip serving tray posting—and that was all I needed. A friendly woman who lives in town gladly took it off my hands—along with 40-plus blank notecards that I also craigslisted. She rang the doorbell—and of course, Inky the dog went insane. When I opened the door, and then the screen to hand over the belongings, Inky tried to nose his way out. I successfully kept this pet indoors—but I did manage to drop the plastic dip tray—domed lid and all—on top of his cute little fuzzy head. He seemed no worse for the wear, but I think it freaked the poor woman out who was here to pick up the stuff. Sorry about that. Really, he’s fine!