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The down side to being The Food Whore is never having a weekend off.

But one of the great things about being your own boss is being able to set your own schedule and work when the heck you want to.

This weekend is my first of 4 weekends with absolutely no tricks. We have a few mid-week ones but they are light and simple.

We book ourselves out every November so we have time to relax after a hellacious summer schedule and so we can enjoy the coming holiday season starting with Thanksgiving. And it also allows us and our staff to gear up for the equally hellacious month of December filled with The Holiday Tricks.

So last night I did a little dance in my kitchen in celebration of an entire Month of Weekend Freedom. The Dance was simple and poetic, somewhat of a ballet if you will. And I will say it was all quite graceful and light until I did a deep bend with one leg in the air and lost my balance. Mid stumble my leg came down and my slipper caught on the chair, which made the other foot slip and slam into the table leg. Which, is really not surprising considering what normally happens when I dance in my kitchen.

Son of a bitch that hurt.

I landed square on my arse and there I sat rocking back and forth holding my throbbing foot. The Husband sighed and walked over to pick me up off the floor.

"Sweetie. You're so pretty. But maybe we should save the ballet for The Nutcracker, hm?" His head was tilted in that loving and so so exhasperated with me way.

"I'm a good dancer. It's the slippers. They were all wrong for this piece."

"Yes, dear. It's the slippers." As he patted my hand.

(Ripped the toenail off my pinky toe, by the way.)

Anyway.

So The Husband had to get to his meeting. And it was really stormy outside which made it a perfect night to stand over my stove perfecting a couple of recipes for The Holiday Tricks.

I wanted to perfect my gorgonzola creme sauce and in the middle of whisking in the last bit of cheese - poof - the power went out.

And it was total darkness.

I stood there for a minute thinking maybe it was going to flicker but I got nothing.

Just total eerie darkness.

I didn't move from my spot because - frankly - I wanted to finish whisking. One last stir - in the dark - and it occured to me that I had no idea of where the flashlights were. And it also occured to me that I was totally alone.

And here's a little secret - I am totally and completely scared of the dark.

So I shuffled two steps to the left to pull open the proverbial kitchen junk drawer to fish out the stick lighter I just knew was in there. And Viola! There it was.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Nothing.

Out of juice.

I did that side to side glance you see in horror films when the stupid people getting chased by the ax-wielding freak stop in the middle of their escape to look around.

Look right - blink. Look left - blink.

I shook that stick lighter with vigor hoping to roust up some fumes and then - click - Viola! We have light!

I really didn't know where to start other than remembering I had just put a bag of tea lights in the storage closet. So I made my way to the storage closet and flicked the light switch... why do people flick light switches when there is no power??

Anyway so I grabbed a handful of lights. I put them all on the island and lit them. I realized there in the total darkness that instead of calling them tea lights they should call them Teeny Tiny No Good Blobs of Wax In a Metal Cup. I get more spark and light from my clothes when I forget to put a Bounce sheet in the dryer.

So in my efforts not to panic, I tried to call The Husband on the cel phone.

No dial tone.

I was just sure someone had cut the phone lines and a bloody scar-faced man was waiting for the opportunity to break down the door and drag me kicking and screaming to my doom. (I know it seems dramatic, but tomorrow is Halloween, afterall.)

And them I remembered that we have cordless digital phones and they don't work without power.

Idiot.

So I go from cupboard to cupboard rummaging for a flashlight and I find nothing. And then I start to curse The Husband's name for being gone and for not putting the flashlight in a place easily accessible to me.

I stood for what seemed like an hour in the middle of my kitchen, holding that flame up like a dedicated fan at an AC/DC concert, when it occured to me that the lights weren't coming on any time soon and I needed to save what fumes I had left.

I made my way to the bedroom, stubbing my already bleeding toe on the couch along the way.

And son of a bitch that hurt even worse the second time.

I crawled into bed and put the covers over my head and waited. It wasn't about 20 minutes later when The Husband came home, flashlight in hand, calling out my name.

"Babe? Honey?"

"Oh you mean like when the power goes out?!?!"

Sensing my displeasure he asked, "Well didn't you find the flashlight in the storage closet?"

"When I was in there the other day, I noticed it tucked under a bag of candles in metal cup thingies."

Damnit.

Posted by Foodwhore at October 30, 2004 12:54 PM

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Posted by: Food Whore at November 1, 2004 10:20 AM