Last night I spent the evening helping out a good friend who found herself in an Event Bind. Sort of an oxymoron that presupposes event planning and execution is ever anything BUT a bind, but I guess it's a question of degrees. In my friend's case, it was the day before the event and some of her catering help sort of went away.
Thus we found ourselves (literally) buying Sam's Club out of french bread and dinner rolls, steering overloaded out-of-control carts dangerously fast around corners at one point traumatizing a man to the point of fear who we inadvertently bumped the cart into and then proceeded to trail in a manner that I suppose he perceived as menacing but which was, in fact, just random on our part, and searching the west end frantically for suddenly elusive poultry seasoning.
I've long been annoyed at the institutional size of seemingly everything at Sam's, but for once found myself strangely gratified to, finally, actually have NEED of 20 sticks of butter and 80 stalks of celery and 20 1 lb loaves of french bread in one single night. Eventually, with my Mom's help, I would work into the wee hours to prepare a crunchy Asian style slaw and dressing (or should I call it stuffing?) of sufficient quantity to serve 200 people. We slid the last freakishly large pan of piping hot dressing from the oven at around 2 o'clock this morning, both tired to the point of giggling hysterics but at the same time a little amazed by the accomplishment.
Both Tallulah and Mom's dog, Dudley (a dachshund), were no less hysterical having never experienced excitement quite like it. Not only was there endless motion and ferrying of pans of stuffing back and forth between our two ovens, but also an incredible bonanza of a near constant shower of falling chopped veggies, bread crumbs, and various other manna from heaven. The project left both under-sized dogs producing explosive poops and horrendous drunken sailor-like belches by the end of the night.
In my case, it was good to be busy. Earlier in the week, I learned from a seemingly innocuous routine phone call the distressing news that funding for my job will cease in approximately 30 days.
Yes. You read that right.
I couldn't help but notice that I received this really bad job news almost a year to the day from the date that my marriage imploded in '07. Both incidents conveniently timed to not only completely f*** with my life, but also? My Christmas.
[Dear Fate: Lay off, will ya?]
The good news is that one doesn't survive such a train wreck without gaining a little perspective. Or at least this one doesn't. This whole last year has been one wild, crazy, feast or famine ride but ultimately? When I need money? I have it. When I need help? I get it. In other words the universe has done a pretty fine job of taking care of me and there's no real reason to think that it will suddenly stop now.
Also, I think the message for me continues to be that I very well may not be a person whose future includes a steady, stable job. Rather, It's looking more and more like I might be one of those people whose career will be more varied and unpredictable. This may not seem like a big deal to some, but as I've written before, I come from a clan of people who crave stability, a secure predictable retirement, and a 401K. NOT people who live on the edge trusting fate for sustenance.
The universe continues to shake me by the lapels and slap me senseless whenever I show signs of feeling the least bit complacent or secure.
'Tis not for me, it seems, that life of safety. Not any more.
Just the same? Next mid-December? You'll excuse me if I barricade myself and my dogs in an underground bunker in an undisclosed location. Without a cell signal.