We Sure Know How to Throw a Party; Even When We Don't Want To

Every year, the Saturday closest to 4th of July, my husband and I have a big party. We never really plan it properly, but it's kinda always there. Some years we go all out like last year and make invitations, sending one to every one in the family tree. Some years, like this one, we decide to bag it and not have one. But then someone finds out we are planning to NOT have the party and they whine and cry so we decide, ok, game on. This year it wasn't until the 17th of June that we were told we had to have it. Not enough time to design and mail out invitations, but enough time to ... well, let's put it this way, I was told by my niece that it would be on the 7th of July because "It's always the Saturday closest to the 4th." I guess it's become more of a tradition than I thought.

I look forward to this event like I look forward to work. Which is not very much. At least at work I make tips and have Mexicans to take care of all the food. When it comes to our annual party, I alone am the bartender, barback, Mexicans in the kitchen, managers and that little Asian guy who mops the floor, vacuums and wipes the vomit off the toilet in the middle of the night after the staff has gone.

The day always starts like this: I have worked the night before (as Friday almost ALWAYS precedes Saturday; except on those occasions when Friday turns into Saturday morning and then afternoon and by the time you get to sleep it's still technically Friday to you and you wake up on Sunday without ever having really experienced Saturday. It happens, right?) so I'm tired.
Especially if I decide when I get home to write a TO DO list. If you have read this blog before, you may recall my penchant for TO DO lists. (Take for example the Thanksgiving posts, which will actually come into play later in this post, so feel free to reread or read for the first time, there may be a quiz later).

So I decide that I have to write a list of all the things I and my family need to get done the next day. And I decide that I should open my bottle of Chimay for just a little nip to drink while I am making my list. Well, as a writer, or one pretending to be a writer while she works as a bartender, there is always a need for several drafts of anything I write, even TO DO lists. On this occasion my first draft wasn't that good because I needed to chart the tasks by family member. After I did that, I decided that the chart was a little sloppy so I had to rewrite it. Then I decided that the new list was even sloppier than the one I did before, but as I began my third list/chart I realized that they would only become more and more sloppy as the alcohol I was consuming was affecting my motor skills. (If anyone knows of a good buzz that does NOT make a person lose motor function, drop me a line, you're my new best friend). So I decided to go outside, have a smoke and figure out the next logical step. As I ascended the stairs from my basement lair, I caught sight of the coming dawn, heard the sound of early birdsong and realized the only logical step was bed. CRASH!

CUT TO ...
INTERIOR. BEDROOM
(A MAN LEANS OVER THE BED AND VIOLENTLY SHAKES HIS NEAR-COMATOSE WIFE)
DAN: Terri, wake up. Please ... you have to wake up.
TERRI: ... waffles! ... please make them be quiet ...
DAN: No Terri, Terri, really, wake up!
(SHE BEGINS TO BE AWARE OF HER SURROUNDINGS)
TERRI: What ... what? ...
DAN: Come on, it's eleven o'clock.
TERRI: What!?!? Eleven o'clock!
(HER TO DO LIST SPECIFICALLY HAD EVERYTHING STARTING AT 9 AM)
TERRI: Fuck!

So I basically woke up and started doing shit. I looked through my TO DO lists but they were all completely illegible. Even the first one. So I had to wing it. Basically I began all the food preparation. I was doing that for a while while my husband went out and got ... um, I dunno, stuff from the store. Which included beer and ice. I thought it might be too soon for the ice as it was about 95 degrees but he got backup. So I'm doing all this shit and at like 12:45 my son comes over and tells my husband that the neighbor got the new four-wheeler for his daughter and he needed help help putting it together. I looked at him like "Don't you dare leave this house and all that needs to be done to go put that ATV together".
He tells me he'll be half an hour. Tops. He really should go help the neighbor and I agree but remind him, half an hour. TOPS!

So I'm chopping and dicing and cutting and slicing. I take a break from the kitchen to .... clean the bathroom! Great! I'm looking at the mess that is the rest of the common area of my home and I'm thinking that no matter how unreadable my list is, I'm pretty sure that "PUT THE NEIGHBOR'S FOUR - WHEELER TOGETHER" is most definitely not on it. I considered having a nervous breakdown, but this was no time for hysterics. I had amassed yet another list of "last-minute" items I needed. Finally at 2pm I realized I had to get them myself. I had hoped Dan would have come home by now so I could send him to the store. Because I figured that if one left at 12:45 for something he guaranteed would take 30 minutes, I should see him again by 1:15, or maybe 1:17 given the two minute round-trip trek across the lawn. (Did I mention the party was to start at 3pm? Yeah, that's what he told people. I told them 4. "Four or even later would be better.") Yeah so I at 2:08 I peeled out of the driveway to go to the store, leaving the dog-hair tumbleweeds all over every floor in my house.

As this long, long story is already too long, I'll fast-forward. My sister Karen always come over with way to much food and takes charge of the kitchen and the grill, which offers me a slight break, but as the hostess, there is always someone coming up to me every 30 seconds needing some kind of attention.
"Are there more napkins?"
"Where's the blender?"
"The toilet paper is out."
"Your dog's humping my leg."
"Whose small child is drowning in the pool?"

All I wanted all day long was to get a freaking shower. Finally at about 9 or so, I had found the time to do it. Only there was a stream of guests using the only bathroom in the house. "Hey! You're a boy and it's dark out now, use the freaking bushes!" Well, darkness can only mean one thing. Fireworks! I pleaded for the fireworks to be put on hold while I took a quick shower. But then someone needed a hot dog, so I had to go put hot dogs on the dwindling coals. Someone else informed me that the children really wanted to see the fireworks and I said to finally go ahead, I would have to miss them. Whatever. I made someone else watch the hot dogs so I could get a shower. I was lucky that my two eldest sisters insisted the show be put on hold while I showered and changed clothes even though I told them to go ahead without me. I still got some shit for being the cause of the delay. Even though I wanted to scream at everyone that while they had been having a great time all day eating and drinking, I hadn't had time to sit for more that 30 seconds at a time and not one morsel more than a tortilla chip or two or bit of fruit ever crossed my lips, I hadn't complained and is it really that big of a fucking deal to wait ten minutes while I cleansed the filth of the day off my body, I didn't. I just made one flippant comment to my brother-in-law. Which was the absolute wrong person to make any kind of flippant comment to. He's the one who does the fireworks every year.

It was quite a show. He does a great job. This year was the best ever. He had more and better fireworks than ever. I actually was becoming uncomfortable because THEY WERE SO GOOD I was worried that the police would definitely come around. After that, this boy who's in love with my niece worked some fire of his own. He spins fire. It's called poi. Google it. Better yet, just YouTube it. He does that. It freaking rocks. Anyway that marked the end of my hostessing. I retired. It was my turn to hang out and have some beverages and stuff.

One of my favorite moments of the whole night was when Dan was getting the electric hooked up in our pop-up camper for the kids who were sleeping in there. We're in there and noticed that the sink was full of water, which is actually a bad thing, because if the plug isn't in there, it will leak into the cabinet underneath as the drain hose was not hooked up. So I open the cabinet under the sink to see if it had leaked at all. Alas, there are my two small saucepans! I am now so happy I have my two small saucepans back. (After Thanksgiving, I had been sure they were in the camper. But my husband had popped the camper up to "winter-proof" it and claimed that the saucepans were NOT in the camper. He hadn't looked in that particular cabinet. THERE THEY FUCKING WERE! Dan's all like "You're pissed at me because you said they we in here and I said they weren't." I'm like "NO butthole! I'm just so happy to have them back!" I think I danced with them all the way into the kitchen).

So after that we all hung out by the fire and stuff and it was great. We listened to music and talked and talked and talked until the sun came up and then we went to bed. Amen.






QUIZ:
Q: The highlight of the night for Terri was when ...
A) She woke up two hours late, not hung over, but STILL DRUNK.
B) Her husband spent to much valuable prep time at the neighbor's house
C) She found her two little saucepans
D) She got to hang out by the fire with people she loves listening to great music and talking about all kinds of both stupid and profound topics.







ANSWER: Actually, both C and D above!

Peace out!