bubble lights that a dear friend has obtained for you at a garage sale.
Please, please think twice and keep a fire extinguisher handy. Otherwise you might be meeting those cute local firemen sooner than you think, and singing a few verses of that old holiday favorite "Oh Crispy Tree... oh crispy tree"
I'm just sayin.
(Okay, the tree didn't really get burnt up and it was only one light that fizzled out. But seriously, be careful! mmkay? If I didn't have a fake, flame retardant tree, it could have been NOT GOOD.)
CERTAIN people have told me that you are either a "Christmas Light Person" or a "Christmas Ornament Person".
I have been labled an ornament person so I take no responsibility for the installation of the Flaming Bubble Lights of Death. Have I mentioned that "He Who IS The Light Person" is also the sort of person who has the professional working title of "Inspector" and is supposed to do things like INSPECT electrical thingies to make sure they are working properly and are up to code?
Clearly, someone was napping on the job the day the F.B.L.O.D. were put on the tree! Again. I'm just sayin.
But nooo... the fun and games do not stop here dear readers. Perhaps you remember that in my off season, in which I am not doing wedding flowers, I work for a caterer. This provides a never-ending source of um.. amusement(?)
I rarely blog about it but honestly, sometimes I do wish for a nice quiet desk job somewhere!
WARNING!! RANT AHEAD!! DANGER!
Last night's event is a case in point. I was catering a job at a gorgeous private home. It was supposed to be an easy gig for a few hours with me cooking and assembling and serving several hot appetizer cocktail food things. I also had another girl helping to pour wine and beer and mixing "a few" drinks.
We arrive to find a HUGE bar and a list of foo-foo drinks that the hosts wanted mixed. Most of them ended in "-tini" and I assure you that whoever invented the REAL martini drink is rolling over in his grave somewhere. There was not a basic, straightforward drink to be found and they all needed things like twee little candy canes as stirrers or garnish. There was a hideous creme de menthe thing that looked and smelled just like bright green cough syrup. UGH!
But, We go ahead and mix the foo-foo drinks with a smile. It's part of our job. We smile a lot. We smile when we are sore from hauling in rental equpment and food. We smile when we have blisters on our feet from being on them for a gazillion hours at a stretch. We smile when people get drunk and obnoxious and when mothers of the bride go a little bit ballistic on us for god knows what. Smiling, always with the smiling.
More people show up to the party than we are told Again, it's no big deal. I get to the point in the party where I'm slamming busy in the kitchen and just BARELY keeping up with the cooking and passing of the hors d'oeurves, and the hostess asks me to stop (!!) and bake a batch of brownies, so the house will SMELL NICE. (Brownies? what the fuck?)
I smile and grit my teeth and refrain from telling her that there are stores which sell all kinds of lovely candles to make your house SMELL GOOD. I'm sure they have brownie scent somewhere. Yankee Candle, maybe??
The timing of the brownies is crucial, she tells me. She wants them baked "Sort of towards the end of the party, but early enough to cool a bit so we can pass out warm brownies to all the guests before they leave"
Uh. Okay. (I'm still smiling at this point, are you proud of me?)
She sets a box of brownie mix on the counter and leaves. I am forced to start rummaging through her kitchen for baking utensils, bowls, pans, etc. Not to mention eggs and oil and, well, everything else I needed. All in the midst of the cooking and serving and passing and picking up of nasty little germy used napkins and toothpicks that I do willingly all the time. (with a smile!)
I have the brownies in the oven for all of five minutes when the host (Mrs Brownie's husband) tells me that he has a surprise for his wife. It's her birthday in two days and he's bought cakes, oh goodie!
Not only that, he wants me to drop everything in the kitchen and HIDE in the laundry room with the cake so I can light the candles and when he gives the signal, I'm to pop out with the cake and surprise her.
Let us just think about this again. POP. OUT. WITH. CAKE.
I suppose I should just be thankful I didn't have to pop OUT of a cake. (Although if I were allowed have a bit more cleavage on display, the dollar amount of my tips would be a lot greater. I'm just sayin.)
Again, I smile. (at that point I'm sure it looked more like a weak grimace, and I'm sure the tic I was beginning to get in my left eye was not at all attractive.)
I sit in the laundry room in the gentle glow of birthday candle light and have an epiphany.
"I am 37 years old and I'm hiding like an idiot in the darkened laundry room of some people I don't know and will never see again and there's a cake that I have to "POP OUT WITH" and it's all just getting to be too much at this point in the season and GOD do I need a DRINK! Not one of those damned "tini" cough syrup things with a candy cane either!"
I begin to wonder...am I really such a whore that I'll do anything just to get a good tip?
Clearly the answer is yes.
So, I cooked, I made brownies, I popped out with cake (all with a smile!) and they shorted us on the tip. GRRRRR!
I'm tellin ya. I really need to show more cleavage. *sigh*
Just so I don't seem like a complete grinch with a three-sizes-too-small heart. I'll leave you all with one last story.
Last year at work, I fished out of the recycling bin, a sad little plastic Christmas tree from a dismantled shop window display. I brought it home to my kids, who happily decorated it and played with it and then we put it out in our shed when the season was over. I didn't bother bringing it in this year as our house is pretty decorated already and we haven't any room for it.
I was at work the other night, and called to check on my hubby and kids who were fending for themselves while mommy works the insane hours for the big (?) bucks.
The girlchild wanted to know if she could have some "extra" christmas ornaments for a project.
As I am immediately (and rightfully) suspicious of any "projects" being undertaken in my absence, I asked her what was up.
She explained that she was in the process of decorating the tree to give to her best friend.
(The parents of said friend are in the midst of a rather cantankerous time in their marriage and we all believe that a divorce is imminent.)
The friend told my daughter that she would not be having a Christmas tree this year and dearly wants one. Her parents have said that they just aren't "into" putting up a tree this year, due to their ongoing issues. The little girl and her sisters are quite sad about it, and my daughter took it upon herself to do something so sweet and good that it makes me a little weepy to think about it.
She got the tree out and tidied it up and got my hubby to give her a string of lights. Then she made little paper snowflakes and ornaments and used some of our "extra" ornaments and some tulle and ribbon to make it all happy.
The true spirit of the season lives in my kid, y'all.
I'm not sure how it got there but I'm SO grateful for it.
Back soon!!
12.18.05 @ 10:51 AM PST [link]
