What Hosting Dinner Teaches Us About Money

I recently read an article that spoke to my soul. The writer (Amanda Litman) and her husband had made a bold, yet simple 2025 resolution: for the entire year, they would invite people over to their home every. Single. Saturday. And they did it!

What made me so excited about this story (other than the menu they shared) is that the author doesn't have a big, fancy house with endless time to clean and decorate. She paints a very modest picture of their home, and talks about how they did minimal prep and cleaning while their babies napped. Then, they'd use whatever mix of mismatched plates and bowls they needed on any particular Saturday in order to accommodate their number of guests (very often, she said, they put kids at their four-person dining table and the adults sat on the couch).

I wonder if part of my joy in reading Litman's article came from the relief I felt to hear her contrast a book I read this fall, written by a finance writer (whose work I mostly admire). In that book, she reminds her readers how "simple" and important hosting is, so long as you have the right (read: on trend, and on price) space, table settings, dinner courses, drinks and even invitations. She went on tour with Williams Sonoma to promote her book, which tells you everything you need to know: if you didn't already have hosting anxiety, you now have very specific and expensive expectations to meet in order to be an eligible dinner hosting candidate.

Maybe this fed into one of the epiphanies I had on our last Wealth Wednesday call, during the future letter, which was one of the writing prompts that sparked a powerful reflection, and subsequent discussion. One of the things I jotted down that the December 2026 version of me had done was have more friends and neighbors over to our home. But then, above that note was a mini-list of home improvement items I would have accomplished before then. I couldn't ignore the presence of this list in my letter, and I was torn between wanting to liberate myself from the guilt of spending more to beautify our home, and questioning why this was a prerequisite to welcome people into my home and build stronger community in my life. Should I just feed my insecurities and pay for the new flooring, paint, and furniture already so I can move on with my life? Or do I need to do some work to chisel away these insecurities, and challenge myself to let people see our home, as-is, and watch as they (gasp!) still enjoy my company?

After sitting on this for a few days, Amanda Litman's article came across my lap. It was the sign I needed to toss my insecurities onto the stained carpet and decide that it's time to invite people over, so we can sit with them on our ugly couch, and make lasting friendships.

Litman put my hosting anxiety at ease when she talked about their approach of “minimum viable cleanliness”- a quick tidy-up, a realistic reset, and then a decision to let people see their home as it actually was. In doing so, they quieted the internal voice that says not yet, not good enough, someday when things are better. They tore up the Williams Sonoma permission slip and as the shreds floated onto their floor, they gained ease, routine, and community.

Many of us set financial milestones that quietly become permission slips for living our own lives.

I can’t leave this job until my 401(k) hits X.​

​I can’t slow down until my savings look a certain way.​

​I can’t take a risk until my bank account proves I’m ready.

These milestones aren’t inherently bad. Planning and stability matter- but sometimes, they function like the unspoken rule that says:

I can’t invite people into my home until it looks the way it’s “supposed” to.

We say we want more time with family, more presence, less stress, more joy... And then we postpone all of it because the numbers haven’t reached a threshold we’ve decided is required to begin.

Just like hosting, financial freedom can quietly become something we’re preparing for indefinitely, instead of something we’re practicing now.

At Rising Femme Wealth, this pattern shows up clearly when we discuss Financial Independence (FI).

Many FI numbers are built on assumptions about the kind of life we’ll need in order to feel satisfied:

• A certain caliber of travel

• A certain level of comfort

• A version of “luxury” we believe is non-negotiable

There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting these things, but it's worth asking:

How much of this is truly about joy, and how much is about proving we’re finally good enough?

If we could still travel, but stay in simpler hotels, would that actually diminish the experience?

If we could retire earlier with fewer luxuries, but more time, energy, and connection, would that feel like a loss, or a gain?

For some, the answer will genuinely be: the luxury matters, and I’m willing to work longer for it.

For others, there may be an uncomfortable realization that the standard itself is what’s pushing freedom further away.

Just like hosting, we may be holding out for a version of life that looks impressive, while a simpler one could already be deeply satisfying.

Community as a Quiet Financial Revolution 💪

There’s one more reason this story stayed with me.

Inviting people into your home, especially when it’s imperfect, is quietly radical. It's like saying:

You don’t need a bigger house to create belonging.​

​You don’t need better furniture to be generous.​

​You don’t need to earn the right to be connected.

When we toss our high standards and welcome people in, despite the stained carpet and the old couch, we’re modeling something powerful- not just for ourselves, but for our families.

We’re showing that community doesn’t require excess spending; joy doesn’t require constant upgrading; love, laughter, and meaning are not luxury goods.

In a culture that constantly tells us to improve, optimize, and upgrade, choosing enough is an act of resistance.

Financially, that choice can be transformative. 🪄 🧞‍♀️