Whew! That was WORK!

This weekend was our annual church fair.  Richard and I are the "cole slaw people" which means we buy and donate the works for the slaw which is just a tiny part of the whole church fair experience. 

If you want cole slaw for 1,000 people, I'm your gal.  No, I can't take credit for work and knowledge I don't own.  So the truth is Richard is your man.   He knows exactly how much cabbage and "color" to order, how much dressing to pick up, how to mix it precisely for taste and texture, and how many ounces to serve each plate.  

All of this knowledge is necessary so that the ingredients come out just right and there's enough for every plate.  Because, trust me on this, if you run out early, or the taste is odd, or the slaw is hot, or there's not enough, or, or, or.....  

It doesn't matter what you add on the back of an "or," if there's an issue, it's going to be a horrible, awful, miserable, catastrophic disaster with dire consequences!

Do I sound like a drama queen?  Cause, I'm not.  Really, it's the hubs of the family who has the nervous tick and the non-stop dialogue.  It's a mantra really, "Do this, stir that, it needs to be right, serve 4 ounces, find the right spoon to measure the ounces, don't put too much, put a little more, it has to be 4 ounces, use this spoon, serve 4 ounces." 

Can you imagine this man?  Sure, he looks like a laid-back cute hubby, but give him a reason to be nervous and he's all about the jitters!  What if he were responsible for the main dish?  What if he had to make the whole meal?  For all 1,000 folks?  Oh, he would stroke out during the first nervous breakdown!

My job is simple: mix the slaw while HE pours in the right amount of each ingredient, then go do something else....anything else.  Anything not where the slaw is being served. 

To that end I designated myself the ticket taker.  I stand at the window, take and count dinner tickets as customers arrive, bag up the correct number of plates while chatting them up so they forget how long they stood in line.  Is that not the perfect job for me?  Rich has the nervous breakdowns; I chat it up with total strangers.  We are GOOD!

An artist drawing of our pretty little church (internet photo)

 So now, at 5:00 o'clock in the afternoon, it's safe to say we lived through another fair.  It got a little iffy last night while I helped with Bingo.  I called Bingo numbers just a smidgen too long and all that loud talking and laughing gave me a headache, but it was fun and I slept really well, so this morning I was ready to go at it again.  


This afternoon I had even more fun picking up the handmade bench that I won.  It's really pretty and is the perfect length for our mud porch.  I'll add a cushion and we'll put it to use putting on and taking off muddy boots and shoes during the winter.  There's just enough space under the bench for storing those boots and shoes so they don't have to come in the house.  If I didn't know that Mr. Walter Riche made the bench, I'd consider it sent straight from heaven.  Wouldn't you agree?