Indian Chiefs and Glue
Well, not really, but it is relatively quiet in here after a rather loud, green grok grok morning, so maybe I will try to actually write something, since all the party stuff caused yesterday to get completely away from me.
I think if I re-learned anything from throwing such a huge party it is that we are lacking in chiefs around here, even though one of us is known as The Commander. If I had a dime for every time I said, “I don’t know,” in response to a question yesterday, I would be, well, maybe not rich, but. I am okay at motoring along getting all the thises and thats done. All the little tiddly stuff. Putting lasagnes together. Cooking breakfast for ten. Serve yourself. Scrabbling together lunch for thirteen. Here it is, get it yourself. Processing dishes. And garbage. Cleaning toilets. And sinks and tubs. Sweeping floors. Shaking rugs. Going to the laundromat. Changing sheets. Lugging things (chairs, food, garbage, laundry, etc.) around. Orchestrating an overall plan and delegating specific things to various people? Not.
I am not a chief. I am glue. When I worked for the actors guild, I remembered things. When and where the plays were. Who the families were, who had paid for what, who hadn’t paid for what, where the YAG lights were. If you wanted to actually get something *done*, that was Paula’s department. When someone would ask me what they could do to help, my usual response was, “I don’t know.” If you asked Paula, you would definitely get something to do. “Set up the concession table.” “Pass out these forms.” “Pick up that trash and sweep the floor.” She was pretty good glue, too, but she was also a *chief*! She is over on the other side now and I miss her and it’s complicated why I don’t work for the actors guild any more but probably one big reason is that there is no Paula.
And then there was the Forsythe Science Fair. I was the registration dragon. I kept track of the projects. Assigned them numbers. Labeled the tables. Made a map of the tech room. Figured out what to do with two- or three-person projects. Showed panicky parents where their kids’ projects were. But if somebody asked me what they could do to help, my usual response was, “I don’t know,” and I would point them in Vicki’s direction. “Arrange the sandwich table.” “Go get the clipboards.” “Put those posters up.” She was the chief and she was a good one. Actually, she still is a good chief. But we don’t do the science fair any more. Our kids gradgiated from middle school eons ago and we were so happy about that, we were disruptive at the ceremony but that’s a whole ‘nother entry.
Anyway, somehow we made it through yesterday without a chief. Well, except that Jan gently steered us through some of the difficult logistical parts. Like, “You know, it is really nice behind your garage and you could put the tables inside the garage,” etc., etc. Jan is *way* too polite to say, “y’all do NOT want to make people hang out and try to eat on the beach with a cold, screamin’ northwest wind blowin’ the food and paper goods all over hell’s half acre.”
That party is done. It was fun. It was wild. A big bunch of Fins and Piedmont/McNaughtons and a smattering of MacMullans for good measure. We had WAY too much food. Enough to feed all of the Fins and Macs again tonight. And I was so tired this afternoon that I practically fell asleep on the beach. Until The Marquis threw some sunscreen at me. Darn, when it first woke me up, I thought it was a beer! Oh, well.