Nemesis called me today and said that he read my blog. He made the comment that my blog was angry...no...scary. After taking another glance at it, I do have to admit that some of the entries are scary and some could be viewed as scary. So I decided to comment on some non-angry stuff.
This weekend's social calendar was PACKED. My roomie and I held a dinner party on Friday, so the nights leading up to the dinner were jam-packed with cleaning, grocery shopping at midnight and more cleaning. The menu for the evening consisted of brochettes, salad, paella and dessert. Thank goodness I decided to have the brochettes for appetizer, because the first pan of paella didn't hit the table till 1 1/2 hours after the party started. (It was a Spanish-influenced menu, so we ran on a Spanish time-table.) Yes, I did say first pan of paella. Since there were some people who are suffering from a self-proclaimed allergy to seafood, I cooked a smaller, non-seafood batch of paella. The main pan hit the table about 20 minutes after the first was done and when I brought it to the table, the first pan was demolished. Judging by the wreck of the kitchen and the volume level of the room, I'd say the party was a roaring success. It was a little nerve-wracking having 80% of the party in the kitchen watching me cook. I'm not going to lie and pretend that they were there to admire my fabulous 3 1/2 inch, pink slingbacks with bows on the back (even though I've successfully trained most of them to check out and admire the shoes). Everyone had a great time and the food actually turned out ok. Even Mr. Cynical (a harsh critic), who came the following morning for leftovers, said it wasn't bad. It's been 72 hours and Roomie and I are still trying to clean up the kitchen.
The next day was yet another wedding. I missed last week's wedding due to a show (there's a surprise), but I was able to go to this one. The wedding was beautiful but scary. (I just said this would not be an angry blog, I never promised a non-scary blog.) The bride was a girl who I used to babysit and in my mind, is still 9. (To the mother-of-the-bride, there are laws against minors marrying that young!!!) No, she's not 9 any more, but to admit her real age would admit that I'm...older. (Shut up!!! I'm still 27!) It was great seeing everyone there. There were people who I haven't seen in awhile, mentors from my younger, more impressionable years. One of them was Mother-of-the Bride. I was able to visit with her today and catch her up with my goings-on over the past few years. (I hope I haven't scared you or given you cause for concern.) But it was a great visit and she gave me things for my brain to chew on.
I leave for the Philippines in less than 48 hours and I'm not anywhere close to ready. I haven't even thought about packing yet. This trip will be...interesting. Part of me is looking forward to the trip and part of me is a little apprehensive. It will be great to see family but I'm not looking forward to "How old are you? You're not married?". Those are the questions, verbatim and in that order. How do I know? That was the standard greeting I received the last time I was there. Not once, but by every single female relative and family friend I met there. Once during that trip, I was hit with those questions at least a dozen times. Before lunch. About a week into the trip, I vowed I would not return without a "boyfriend" physically present. The boyfriend could either be real or rented. I didn't have time to rent one for this trip and it's too late to acquire a real one AND his plane ticket within the next 48 hours. Sigh. The most I can do is find my current passport before I leave. And pack.