Monday, February 18, 2008


Fresh from another humiliation on the self-definition front:

Having made too much of a success of catering the Board Meetings of my little Do-Good-for-Gays Society, I now found myself catering a reception thrown by the Board for a number of Do Gooders of the Year. The trouble all began when it turned out that there wasn't enough money in the budget to get a "real" caterer. Then we started looking at all the budget alternatives, all of which at last fell away, leaving... me.

So I spent Friday afternoon running around like a chicken with my head cut off to Costco for this, to the weeds-and-seeds bakery for that, finally coming to rest in the rented "gala" space with bursting fruit platters, leaking salsa, several tons of over-salty [but organic!] corn chips, dozens of "assorted" cookies the size of dinner plates, all of which looked exactly the same to me, with a few items and their juices clinging to the rear seat of my car and the parking lot of the "venue." I ran against the clock setting up tables, unwrapping tablecloths, laying out napkins, forks, small plates [platelets?], feeling like I was falling further and further behind, but I had it all done before the arrival of the first guests, and had just enough time to treat myself to a local brew from the cash bar before I had to get my obsequious smile in place for public consumption.

There is a reason that real caterers charge real money.

Then I ran around checking levels [there was a whiff of a NASCAR pit-stop about the whole process, actually] and being politely invisible. Everyone who was caught in mid-dip as I refilled something was very complimentary, but all I could think was: "Eat up, drink up, go home!" as I had decided to hit the road out to the Big Woods that night. Luckily, I was not responsible for janitorial services. After the last stragglers had finally headed off for whatever people do after such events, I packed the leftovers for delivery to the local homeless shelter, and hit the road. I didn't get in till after midnight.

Did I mention that in packing up the mountain of leftovers for the Deserving Poor, I also packed up a mini-mountain for the Goat and myself? Call it my fall from grace for the week. It made a nice meal the first night, and the leftover leftovers got split into cookable and better-left-raw-as-salad and recycled for dinner the next night. I took some vague satisfaction in the fact that the food was not going to waste, but to hungry people, whether or not they wanted what I had bought for the Deserving Rich, and that I had managed to extract what one of my contractor friends calls "aggravation tax" by siphoning off a meal's worth for the Big Woods Leather Queen Self-Esteem Center.

I couldn't help thinking that this is the kind of event I used to be invited to, not wait tables at... Well, fate certainly has a sense of humor...

We watched the DVD of Eytan Fox's "The Bubble," which stars Yossi of "Yossi and Jagger," i.e., Ohad Knoller. "The Bubble" tells the story of the romance between a Palestinian man and a man he first meets as an Israeli soldier at a border checkpoint... Moving, hot, and sweet. That goes for Knoller and his co-stars Yousef Sweid and Daniela Wircer, as well. [In fact: woo-woo, on all counts.] I was something of a basket case by the end, between the story and the fact that I had the Goat leaning against me soothing the last of my Caterer's Tics away, but giving me a terminal case of heartache... Sometimes, when he is not playing the Avenging Angel, he can be so sweet...

Another short work-week ahead: for reasons far too complicated to go into, I am still seeing a number of doctors back in the Old Home Town -- whereas my former lawyer recently declined to draft a new will for me on the grounds that he had advised Isis on her divorce and subsequent re-writing of her will. [As we have been divorced for over a year, that seemed a little odd. But who am I to complain about someone actually trying to avoid even the appearance of impropriety? There are few enough people even thinking about it, let alone doing it.]

In any case, I am going back Friday for a doctor's appointment, to see my daughter enroute, and to spend the night with some friends, before heading back out to the Big Woods to pick up where we left off very early this morning. It is strange to think that in about three months I won't be doing this any more... although, with my luck, my free-lance work will all involve commuting. My first job entails driving only an hour with an overnight for two days on site, but that could change...

It's a short life but a merry one, here in the Frozen North.

Hang in there, all.
I do my best, as you can probably tell...


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