The return of the domestic goddess.

Well, it's official. I am no longer an entertainment virgin in our new home.

Tonight we hosted my sister, brother in law and nephew for dinner. I had decided yesterday that since we had no solid plans for the weekend, I wanted to break in the kitchen and make a homemade lasagna. No real reason why, I guess someone mentioned it yesterday at work at some point, and instantly I knew what I could do with my Saturday.

Wow, how my life has changed.

Anyway, I must say that it was a smashing success. We ventured to our local Superstore this morning, Tim Horton's in hand, and picked up all of the ingredients. Came home, prepared the sauce from scratch (no Ragu for this diva's pasta dishes) then assembled my masterpiece in our never before used Emile Henry red lasagna dish (fab wedding present) and prayed like hell that it would turn out well. And man were my prayers answered.

If I may be so bold, I do declare that I make a fanfreakintastic lasagna. It turned out perfectly, the table was set beautifully (have I mentioned that our wall colour matches our china? No? Alas, my mistake), the wine had time to breathe in a lovely decanter...ah, sends pleasure bubbles up the spine just thinking about it, no?

You see, the funniest thing is I always had the desire to present a dinner like this, but never the drive in our old place. Yes, there was a good deal of space, but over time it just got filled up with more and more stuff, and that made the whole entertaining part, well, not so entertaining. So I stopped for quite a while, and I can't tell you how excited I am to actually get back in the game.

I'm delighted that this trial run (you know you have to experiment on family - if something had gone horribly wrong they still have to love you and see you again; friends, not so much) was successful and it's now given us the confidence to live, cook and host another day. Fabulous.

So now I'm ready to break out my 'come to dinner' dance card and see how fast I can fill it up. Oh to be the entertaining slut of the neighbourhood, an endless stream of cars, guests and wine flitting in and out every weekend. What ever will they think of us? I'm sure they won't care too much - as long as every once in a while they get an invite of their own so as to catch a glimpse inside the home of this diva hostess. Come for the curiosity, stay for the lasagna. Suburbia in a sentence.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?