I’ve never been known for my ability to pull off holidays or special occasions with flare and/or style, so let it be known to all and sundry that Valentines Day 2007 was no exception.
It started out with a phone call to my (step)dad, which has resulted in some wedding modifications. I’m not sharing what they are in public, but let’s just say that changes have been made, I am excited about them, and you should Watch This Space for exciting details!
Aren’t we cute??
A few weeks ago, HR Gal at The Religious Organization for Which I Work and I decided to reprise a project that the Organization had done for a few years and then stopped a couple of years ago. It involved collecting toys and personal hygeine products and snacks for kids that live in one of the homeless/low income projects run by Sharing and Caring Hands, which is where we also send groups to volunteer once per month (that’s one of my ongoing projects here at Organization). Sounds neat, right?
Well, it’s been a clusterfuck since the very beginning. The activities team decided to sponsor it, at the request of HR Gal, but management decided that they wanted no work time spent on the project. Well, that’s ok, the Team decided, we’ll use our breaks and lunch and do stuff after work. So, with some significant begging on my part to one member of managment that I have a good relationship with, and a complete re-working of the project, we got it rammed through.
Good to go, right? Uh, no. The rest of the team figured out that using no work time meant using no work time and decided that if this was a project sponsored by the Orgnaization, then the Organization should damn well pay them for their time, and dropped out one by one. One member got all offended because, although I am NOT a part of the activities committed (nor is she), I did not come and personally kiss her ass and ask her to contribute (I didn’t know that kind of personal attention was warrented and she decided that she would not participate in the activity. That’s ok – you’re hurting homeless kids, not me, Scooter. (This is the same woman that got mad because she signed up to volunteer at Sharing and Caring Hands a few months ago, and when she got there found out that the woman who runs it is Catholic, and very faithful, and she hadn’t been “warned” about it. Number One: do your research. You knew who the organization was, and have the resources to check it out. It’s not a secret that this is a Catholic organization. Number Two: you work for a religious organization. Although it’s not Catholic, if Jebus offends you, you are in the wrong damn place!)
So, it ended up being me that did all the work. Even HR Gal had to drop it, as her boss was not in favor of the whole thing. I did all the coordination, communication, shopping, and drop off. I’m not even going to mention the fiasco with Finance and the check that got lost.
I felt like The Little Red Hen .
The good news is, MY boss is not an asshole, and let me leave two hours early to drop the booty off to the shelter . This was a bit of a chore, as it involved four giant Target bags on the bus back to the abode, and then took the car over there. Unfortunately, the center had just opened up for the afternoon, so I wasn’t able to hang out and get to watch the kids enjoy the goodies. Oh, well.
Back to the abode, where I tore into the new book that had arrived from my friend, Paperback Swap. Today’s treat: Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore. If I may make a sidenote about Christopher Moore: He.fucking.rules. I read Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal last year, and nearly tore muscles from laughing, and Bloodsucking Fiends promises to deliver the same. One more book like this one, and he’s firmly on the list of favorite authors.
Anywho, I was reading in order to let my beloved get a little bit more sleep. I had kept him up late that morning what with the wedding emergency, and I knew he was tired. I had about half an hour of reading time before he came wandering out to let me know he was up, and so I went into the bedroom to have some cat-free snuggling time with my sweetie and to exchange our Valentine’s Day gifts. Because we’s po, we had done homemade things – I made him one of my “art projects” and he had written me a love letter. Tears were shed. It was all sqishy and squee.
One of my favorite bands, Storyhill, was in town last night, so The Sweetie and I had tickets to go see them. After our mini-Valentine’s day celebration/presents, he went to take a shower, and I was going to have a wee nap, and then we were going to have dinner, and head over to the Varsity to see the band. Well, he ended up having a really long shower, and I slept too long, so there was no dinner for us! We hauled ass over to the Varsity, only to find out that I was wrong (again) – the show started an hour later than I thought, and the doors weren’t open yet. In fact, the doors opened 15 minutes late, and we were standing out in the cold for about half an hour.
Once we got inside, though, we thought it was worth it. The Varsity is beautiful inside – all old rugs and big, squishy chairs and lamps and candles and glow lights (there’s a great picture here). Relaxing, and romantic, and HAE butt-friendly. We were able to get a big comfy chair for me and a nice straight chair for Jeff in a cornor by a lamp with a great view of the stage. Oh, did I mention the full bar where I was able to get a coffee and Bailey’s to warm my bones? Yep, BIG fan of the Varsity.
Brian Joseph was the opener, and once again the Storyhill guys have introduced me to more music that I love. They are always really good about realizing that the opener is the opener, and that no matter how good they are, no one wants to hear them for more than half an hour. After half an hour, he was off, and Storyhill was on.
They’d been on for maybe half a dozen songs when a guy in a long coat comes up on the stage. This is highly unusual – this is a folk band. People are sitting on the ground, drinking beer, having a laid back time. People don’t rush the stage at Storyhill. Women don’t throw their bras onstage. It’s usually a very mellow time. In fact, I remember a time back in Mankato, at the Coffee Hag, when two high school kids showed up and were trying to be cool and dance. Finally, someone went up and told them to sit the fuck down. You don’t dance at a Storyhill concert.
But I digress. The trenchcoat guy pulls the band aside, and has a few words with Chris and John. They look confused. Trenchcoat takes the mic. The rest of us look confused. Turns out that Trenchcoat is the owner of The Varsity and he is there to inform us that the Fire Marshall is shutting the concert down.
That’s right. A folk music show was shut down due to overcrowding.
In theory, we are supposed to be getting notification that we will be getting vouchers for another show, and I’m going to hold on to them until Storyhill comes back to town. I think that any other day, I would have been really mad about the whole thing, but everything else had gone so badly, I just had to laugh.