|A high pitched buzzing sound...
||[Oct. 4th, 2006|10:40 am]
if you hear it, it's just my head about to explode, so just maintain a safe distance. For once, it actually has nothing to do with other people irritating the living crap out of me. |
I know, who'd believe THAT, but really, it's true.
There are things that don't look soooo bad when you put them on the calendar, oh, way back in August, but then as they loom closer, you think...oh, shoot me now, shoot me now...where is a crazed milk deliveryman when I need him?
(Yes, I'll make fun of anything. If you don't like it, unbookmark my blog. It's not like you weren't warned that I am insensitivity personified.)
Look, it's all going to be fun, but my friend Nancy is coming down on Thursday to spend the weekend and go to her first RenFaire, leaving her husband and child behind. Well, that will be a blast, but Nance is my neat friend. My clean friend. My friend who's house is so clean that I'd eat food off of almost any surface in her bathroom and you KNOW how I am about food safety and sanitation. Why, once, when a couple of us were sitting around, doing that idle bitching that women do about how useless their SO/husbands are when it comes to housecleaning...Nancy said, "Yeah, when Matt sweeps the kitchen floor he doesn't even lift the table legs to sweep underneath them."
Er-oop? Lift the table legs? Okay, how much dirt could get under a table leg? And can't you just leave that for until you move, or get a new table or something?
Now, don't get me wrong, I have never, ever, ever, in the almost 20 years I've known Nancy felt that she has ever judged my slovenly habits. She IS married to a man who's parents maintain a household that grosses out even me, so she's got a strong stomach for filth and squalor. But still...I feel inadequate at the best of times and right now my house is in the "haven't really unpacked completely from Virginia Faire, am in the throes of Maryland Fest, have just finished VaRF in Roanoke and am screaming downhill on my way to Halloween, so what's the f-ing point, really?
I feel compelled to make sure she has a great time, so that's a little more pressure. Then in addition to doing Faire on Saturday, we have a party that night to go to....and oh, yeah, I have a 10am flight out to San Diego Sunday morning and to a conference. And other houseguests staying in my house while I'm gone.
And the reason I'm flying out to San Diego is for the American Personal Chef Conference where I'm presenting on session and a panelist on another. The latter is a new assignment to cover for someone who's cancelled last minute. ("Call Mere, she can talk on anything....she may not make any sense, but at least she'll be funny...")
So the session I'm a panellist on is on Flavor Trends...which frankly, I think is a horseload of bulls***. I mean, every year, someone announces that Yuzu is the hot new flavor and that Spanish is the next hot cuisine and tapas and small dishes are the new style of eating and slow cookers are out and steaming is in...and I'm so old and curmdugeonly now that I'm thinking, wait, wasn't Spanish the hot new cuisine in 1997? And, now waitta minute, I remember when steaming was out and slow cookers were the wave of the future. Or was that pressure cookers? Oh, hell, it's been five years since anyone's used the word "fondue" so we're about due for that again. And isn't it funny that the press releases announcing food trends seem to come from the very folks who are producing Yuzu-flavored products or releasing cookbooks on Spanish cuisine?
And the session is scheduled after a luncheon that features wine-tasting...so y'all wanna lay bets on whether I will have had enough wine to stand up and say "You know what our customers really want? Good meatloaf and mashed potatoes. A kick-ass macaroni and cheese. Put BBQ sauce on anything and they'll eat it up. The fastest way to educate the palate of American is to take over all of the Cr'Applebees and make them serve actual, honest to god, real food, not microwaved frozen, re-constituted protein that they're calling a chicken breast.
Deep cleansing breath.
Note how I'm cleverly avoiding all housework and possibility of accidental cleaning by writing an outrageously long blog entry...I have made procrastination an art form.
But now that I've admitted I'm procrastinating, it's no longer fun. So, off to pack my chef's clothes and conference wear, produce handouts for my sessions, come up with some politically correct answers to pepper amongst my honest comments on Flavor Trends, wash and re-assemble garb for this weekend, wash sheets and towels so at least my guests have clean linens and attempt to corral, tag and re-locate the dust buffalo roaming my house. Oh, yeah, and get ready for the Scary Perry planning meeting I'm hosting tonight...there goes that high pitched buzzing sound again....