There are so many fabulous blogs about food out there and as my site begins to change (Thanks to my fabulous friend Echo), I will be adding more links so you can all enjoy them.

In the mean time, I will mention as many as I can as I get the pleasure of reading them all.

So every month I challenge myself to learn as much as I can about a certain subject. For the month of February I am going to tackle the subject of wine and this is ust a little plug for the site called Vinography. It's wonderful and very informative and has some great links and resources.

So go check it out!

So I have been dealing with this woman - we will call her Cheap Cindy - and after much bargaing across the table, we finally came to an agreement that we were not the Whores for her.

She wanted everything cheap - hence the moniker.

And it's not that I am such a raging bitch of a Money Monger, but I have to earn a damn living. And Tricking big parties for $5.00 per person (no, that was not a typo) is not how I care to spend a Saturday night.

I would much rather sell my soul to the Devil for $25.00 per person and at least at the end of the night when I was sitting against a wall talking to myself from all the stress, I would know I had some greenbacks in my wallet to buy something pretty.

So I get this call from Cheap Cindy wanting to know if I could at least "help her with the menu", which in Cheap Cindy's mind meant she wanted to come to my kitchen, have me show her how to make the dishes she wanted for $5.00 (in my world, that's a balogne sandwhich), show her how to display it, and tell her how much to buy.

Now, if Cheap Cindy were a friend who's down on her luck I would be all over that - I would probably just go ahead and Trick the thing to help her out. But in this case, the answer was a big fat, "No." To which Cheap Cindy replied with a shocked gasp.

Lady, if I was in the business not to make money, I would be a non-profit organization.

So I am chatting with my friend The Flower Shop Owner over a nice afternoon wind down drink of - you guessed it - a Lemon Drop, and I was sharing my story. The Flower Shop Owner listened and her eyes got bigger and bigger and bigger. "I know, it's totally shocking, right?" I asked?

"I wish I could say it was."

"Oh yeah... and..."

At this point I shook up another batch of the 'drops.

"And she called me and asked if she could come in and I could just show her what flowers to buy, who to buy them from, and how to arrange them. She also wanted detailed information on making a bridal bouquet."

"No."

"Cheers."

When sitting down with Clients to discuss food for Tricks, we do have set menus as examples for them to see. But we're wide open as far as what we will make for people.

If you want flaming skewers of swordfish brought to each table, we can do that. Or if you want egg salad tea sandwiches topped with sweet relish - we're all over it. Short of asking me to perform some sort of cumbersome acrobatic act while serving your food, we do whatever we can to make it happen. (I am no acrobat - unlike The Friend in Texas who's been known to do Nadia Comenici type stunts such as the splits in public places.)

Name the menu and we will do everything within our power to make it happen for you.

So we sat down last week with a Client for an upcoming trick we have in May. She was hedgy when talking about her menu and when pressed by us to be more open about her wants, she admitted she was hesitant because she wants some things outside the norm. Her family is very ecclectic and they don't view formal events such as weddings to be something that has to be stuffy and follow the books of etiquette.

They are including all of the children as much as possible so they want to make it fun for them to participate. So she wants peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches cut into funky shapes. And the adults want ketchup to dip their chicken in. It's an odd menu - by most standards, I guess - but these people are all about quirky fun and want their wedding reception to reflect that.

And we will oblige.

As we were talking about some of the foods her family likes, The Partner and I got to sharing our own funky tastes when it comes to food.

For instance, I love nothing more than a sandwhich made of peanut butter and dill pickles. (Mock me - but you haven't lived until you've tried it.)

And I like a good bowl of spicy chili topped with a drizzle of real maple syrup.

I enjoy an egg salad sandwhich topped with crispy potato chips.

And there's nothing as lovely as a piece of whole-grain toast topped with The Mother's fresh raspberry jam and crispy maple bacon.

So what funky foods do you like?

I get a lot of e-mails asking why I don't post recipes or have pictures of the food I make.

The biggest issue here is that I absolutely have no skills whatsoever when it comes to taking pictures. I mean - it's bad. My sister's dog once stepped on her camera and the camera fired. The resulting picture was better than anything I have ever taken on purpose, and me with the fancy opposable thumbs.

I will try to post more pictures as I take them. But let this post be your warning about their quality.

And as far as the recipe thing goes - I am a bit at a disadvantage in that department. It's not that my preparations are a secret - it's just that they are hard to describe in print. I don't cook with measuring tools other than my hands, my eyes, and how much of it fits in a martini glass.

So it's going to be up to all of you to decipher what I mean by crushing enough peppercorns to fit in the cute little demitasse cup Crazy Aunt Anita bought me.

But since you so graciously asked, I will try and do more of both - in between bitching about all the people I faithfully serve, of course.

Every summer we have a standing Trick Appointment to cater a family picnic for a large corporation.

It's pretty standard fare; hamburgers, hot dogs, salads, iced beverages, beans, you get the point.

It will be two years ago this coming July that the ill-fated Cheesburger Incident of '03 happened.

I was standing at the grill flipping the burgers, some topped with cheese, others without.

People would come to me and request the pattie of their choice and be on their merry way.

Happy Corporate Guy was at the grill and took the last pattie sans cheese and I had just put a flipped a new batch of burgers and was only about 4 minutes out from having fresh ones ready to go.

So up comes Angry Little Man and requests a burger, no cheese. I informed him I was out, but was just minutes away from having fresh ones ready to roll.

And that ticked him off.

He sighed heavily and said, "Oh just forget it!" , and with that he slammed his entire plate of food - food that he had just dished up - into the garbage. And then he stomped off.

I just stood there feeling terrible - I don't like to disappoint the customer - but I thought I was cheery and did the best I could. The Partner was working the other grill and just rolled her eyes and shook her head. About that time Corporate Head Guy approached and said, "Don't worry. Bob's an angry troll. We love him. But he's an angry troll." So I shrugged it off and went about my business. The day went fabulous, Corporate People were happy, all was well.

So cut to about 2 weeks later and I am walking into a restaurant and Angry Little Man was walking out. He made eye contact with me, scoffed, and kept walking. The Husband was with me and said, "What was that all about?" and I had to explain that I didn't have a cheeseless burger ready for him at the exact and precise moment he wanted it. "And yet you still want to do this for a living?" was the husband's response. (Honestly, the answer to that question is still up for debate.)

Over the last couple of years I have run into Angry Little Man at different public places and each time he glares and scoffs. It's sort of become a game in my life, really.

So I just now got home from The Grocery Store where while loading the moving belt thingy with my goods, someone came up in line behind me.

And it was Angry Little Man.

Ahh great.

So I looked up and smiled and as I expected he glared and scoffed. Perhaps this time it was because I had about 4 different cheeses rolling by me and was extra offensive?

Now, I hate to classify an entire portion of the populace but it would appear to me that when One is Lactose Intollerant, it causes One to become People Intollerant, as well.

Or perhaps it simply makes them ridiculous grudge-bearing miserable bastards.

When dealing with the public you come across all walks of life.

The Most Annoying of which is the Impatient Fool.

It's that person we encouter at Tricks who paces the floor or steals shrimp off the buffet stations before the meal has started.

It's the person who walks into a busy restaurant without a reservation and makes a scene over a long table wait.

It's the person in the grocery store who tries to sneak a cart full of items through the 15 Or Less line.

It's the person we sat next to at The Restaurant on Sunday afternoon.

The place has wonderful food and it's rare a time when you can go and not have to wait.

But it's worth the wait.

In my humble opinion, all good meals are worth the wait.

So we're sitting in the lounge, riding out our 20 minute table wait when 4 ladies come in to eat. And they wanted a table "Right now."

The Darling Hostess informed them they were in for a 20-25 minute wait, which left them all disgruntled. And you know what? If you don't want to wait, then don't. Go somewhere else and eat. Just don't sit in the lounge and piss and moan about how hungry you are and DO NOT pester Darling Hostess time after time after time wondering if your table is ready yet.

Sit down, shut up, and wait your turn.

So we got our table and ordered our drinks (Mandarin martini, thankyouverymuch) and began browsing the menu for a lovely and relaxing meal. And shortly thereafter, the 4 Impatient Fools from the waiting lounge were seated behind us.

The didn't wait long to start in. Their questions about menu items were not based on the dish itself, but on how long it would take. The waitress in all of her class did the very best she could, but you could tell her patience level was waning.

Our appetizers arrived at the same time as theirs and before we had even taken seconds off our trays, they were done.

And they were flagging down the waitress to inquire about the length of time they would have to wait for their main course. They were loud. And they were rude.

"Waitress... Waitress!!" Fingers snapping.

I can't begin to tell you how much disdain I have for this kind of behavior. People who work in restaurants are not dogs nor are they servants - they are human beings there to serve you and show you a good time. So for the love of God don't raise an arm and snap.

Anyway.

The 4 Impatient Fools whined and dined themselves through the next 1/2 hour. And they were annoying and distracting to more than just our table. You could see the looks of annoyance they were receiving from all directions.

The Mother was having an extremely hard time with it all as she has to face these kinds of people in Her Restaurant. And I could tell was plotting in her head a way to let the 4 Impatient Fools they were making asses of themselves.

But she didn't have to.

The table to the right of us had enough. And they said amongst themselves, but loudly enough for the close vicinity of tables to hear, "If you want a fast meal, go someplace with a drive-thru..."

Everyone at my table raised a glass in agreeance and appreciation, as did the table to our far right. It was clear that the inuendo flew right over the brains of The 4 Impatient Fools.

But we all had a good laugh - and a good drink - at their expense.

So once a year we book ourselves out and schedule a Ladies Only Weekend in honor of The Mother's Birthday. We don't go far - just book a hotel Downtown, make reservations for something fun, and we eat and shop ourselves into a fabulous oblivion.

This year's Something Fun were tickets to see The Lion King at The Paramount, a gorgeous testament to the arts in all of it's refurbished glory.

We started off by having a late lunch of Thai chicken lettuce wraps - to die for - and hitting the stores with great elan.

I managed to contain myself in the Shoe Department at Nordstom, and the kitchen section at Pottery Barn, but I can't say the same when offered a slab of apple cake with rum sauce to accompany my fabulous cup of Starbuck's.

We all met back at The Hotel where I set to rinsing the rum sauce spot off my shirt and and we all began to get ready for the play. We opted out of a big dinner as not to stuff ourselves before the show. But, you know, we brought snacks with us, of course. Just a little fruit, brie, artichoke bruschetta topping, olives, salami and sharp cheddar.

Just a little nibble to go with the Shaker(s) of Lemon Drops.

The Lion King was - well - indescribable. The costumes, the music, the stage - all completely fabulous. Too fabulous for words. I am always in awe when I watch actors on stage. I can't imagine having to remember the lines and the movements and all of the glory that goes with it. The animation in their faces alone is breathtaking.

Seated next to me was a Darling Old Woman who smelled of mothballs and who's red lipstick was slightly askew. She was a patron of the arts and chatted with me about the studies and her work in the theater. Engaging with her in conversation was nearly as magical as the show itself.

When the audience would break out applause, she would lean over and give her complete review of the scene. I loved every minute of it.

At one point during the show, actors dressed to represent marsh grass slithered across the stage. Their costumes were a very thin (very thin...) flesh-colored nylon and left very very little (very little...) to the imagination. When the lighting and their bodies were just right, we all got a clear view of, well, Nylon Encased Man Parts. It caused me to gasp, which caught the attention of The Darling Old Woman. She patted my hand and said, "Sweetie - that's just one of the many perks of the theater. Enjoy it!"

I really should have exchanged phone numbers with her. Seeing the play was engaging, but seeing through her eyes was the pinnacle of Fabulousness.

We left before the encore curtain call as not to get caught up in the throngs of people. Our goal was to be on the sidewalk and hailing a taxi before the rest of the patrons did the same. With little fuss, we snagged a Yello Cab.

The Driver was a combination of the Jim chacter from Taxi and Jim Carey's character from Limeny Snickett. And he had this OCD behavior which caused him to adjust the rear view mirror, fuss with the radio dials, and run his fingers through his hair with amazing swiftness in it's repetition.

Within the first 3 minutes of entering the cab - and I had to take the front seat - he honked at the cab in front of us and screamed, "Get the fuck moving!" and honked his horn again. I casually turned back to lock eyes with The Sister who was covering her mouth to hide a giggle.

Mr. Cab Driver got tired of waiting for the cab in front of us to load so he jerked into traffic, squealing the tires in the process. I don't think I have ever ridden so fast through the streets of Seattle. I really do believe that we were airborne in a couple of occasions.

At the first stop light I looked over and said, "So, having a good night?" while chuckling slightly.

"Oh, yeah. I LOVE this job!"

...adjust the rear view mirror, fuss with the radio dials, and run his fingers through his hair...

With that we careened down the street and slammed into the left lane to turn the corner. I kid you not when I say Mr. Cab Driver turned the corner so sharp and so fast that the driver's side wheels ran up and over the curb and we did a fish-tail screeching lane adjustment like you only see on old episodes of Starsky and Hutch.

...adjust the rear view mirror, fuss with the radio dials, and run his fingers through his hair...

At this point everyone in the back seat was reduced to body shaking fits of laughter. The Mother was biting her lip so hard I thought she was going to break the skin.

As we approached the hotel he literally slammed on the breaks hard enough that we came to a screeching halt along the curb. Two flight attendants waiting for their airport shuttle actually jumped back. When I went to open the door Mr. Cab Driver shouted, "WAIT! This isn't a good spot!" And he hit the gas and slammed on the breaks so fast that I thrust toward the dash and had to brace myself with my left hand, right hand still on the door handle.

...adjust the rear view mirror, fuss with the radio dials, and run his fingers through his hair...

"Ok. NOW! But everyone exit the cab on the right side. I don't want anyone getting hurt!"

...adjust the rear view mirror, fuss with the radio dials, and run his fingers through his hair...

I paid the fare and we all stood on the curb in dead silence as he sped back in to traffic. The Mother tightened the belt on her overcoat and said, "That was the most fun $6.00 ever bought me", and with that we all laughed hysterically and made our way up to the room.

Sunday we spent the morning luxuriating on soft beds eating over-priced room service and admiring the view of Elliot Bay. The Mother blew out her birthday candle and we all celebrated by continuing to eat and drink and shop ourselves into a fabulous oblivion.

(Author's Note: Seattle is a fabulous city and if you haven't had the pleasure of visiting, you really need to do that, sometime.)

It's been a crazy week.

We had a heatwave the other day, bumping the mercury up to a balmy 41 degrees.

I would have gone on the roof deck for some sunning if I hadn't been in danger of slipping on the ice berg and flailing to my demise on the street below.

But the heatwave was fleeting and we're tapping out at about 27 degrees right now. It's all I can do to keep myself upright on the ice and not do silly things like stick my tounge to flag poles.

I have also been trying to avoid persistant phone calls from A Client for a Trick I have in July.

July - just so you're up on it - is 7 whole months away.

But The Client is an OCD Planner, which I can respect. I am an obsessive list maker and planner when it comes to being The Food Whore, but she's been badgering me about minute details such as what time I plan to arrive to The Trick.

And again I remind you that The Trick is an entire 7 months away.

"So I am making my notes and I would like to get it down on paper what time you plan on arriving at The Site."

"Great. I will see you on that day at 3:00."

For the sake of being ornery, I think I may call her back and tell her to change that time to 3:15.

So we're on Day 6 of Winter Storm Watch 2005!!!...duh duh duh duuuhhh and the romanticism of the stormy weather has worn off.

It's a pain in the ass.

We had 3 Tricks cancel over the weekend - which was good - the roads were impassible and having people needlessly out and about was irrresponsible. They were all rescheduled for mutually available dates. So I began the task of filling my weekend with projects to keep myself busy - and out of trouble.

The keeping myself busy part was easy. All the snow and us having a 4-wheel drive vehicle made us the perfect candidates to taxi people around and run to The Grocery Store for people.

Amazingly, all of the trips to The Grocery Store went witout incident. There was no slipping nor dropping of eggs.

However.

On my last run to The Grocery Store I purchased those tiny cans of V-8 Juice for myself. And while lifting the bag into the truck the bottom ripped out, sending the contents of the bag into the snow. One of the cans broke free from the little plastic holder thingie (My intellect should guarantee my membership in MENSA, right?) and landed on a rock, causing a teeny tiny little hole in the side of the can.

There wasn't a garbage can nearby and I didn't want to litter so I wrapped the can in the bag, reminding myself to toss it in the trash when I got home.

The only bad part of the plan was that I wasn't going to be home for another 4 hours and in those 4 hours my thoughts were not on that can. And it was dark when I got home so I grabbed the bags off the back seat and didn't give a second thought to the punctured can wrapped in a bag and sitting neatly on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

So the night went on. The Husband and I played a lovely game of chess - a game I pretent to get, but instead blindly move the horsey thingy around the board - and listened to the wind howl.

The temperature dropped to a paltry 4 degrees that night - and me without my bikini.

So the next morning I went out to the truck and casually opened the door when holy crap - it looked like a CSI Crime Scene in there! There was dried red "something" everwhere. It was caked to the dash board and the floor mats and the windshield.

I was about ready to call for back-up when I remembered that can of V-8 Juice.

Sure enough, the "tiny" hole actually became a point of explosion for the can. I don't know all the geometry and science involved but my best hypothesis is that the tiny hole + the extreme cold caused for a fountain of tomato juice.

Which was just my damn luck.

And as I look out my window this very moment, it's snowing again.

Someone save me.

So it's Day 2 of "Winter Storm Watch 2005!!!...duh duh duh duuuhhhh" and it's not so much a Storm Watch now as it is a Storm Reality.

It's freaking cold.

I got up at 6:30 this morning only to find I couldn't see out my windows. We were in blizzard conditions and my worst fears came true; The Weatherman was right.

The Bastard.

I called The Sister and they live far enough out of the city to be snowed in by "Drifts at least 6 feet high". So I guess going to her place for coffee was out.

So I ran downstairs in my stocking feet to peer out the window to get a good look at My Car, only I couldn't find it, it was covered by a snow drift. "Oh, well", I thought. That was the safest place for it. Then my phone rang so I bolted up the steps and when I hit the floor I slid and my foot slammed into the bookcase.

Yeah, who couldn't see that coming.

After lying on the floor in a fit of dramatics I realized what I had thought - pinky toe. Totally broken. It had, after all, been at least 4 months since I broke the Little Gipper so in all reality, it was time.

Now, I am sure you're all thinking that I must make all this stuff up about broken toes and dropped things but I can assure you I do not. When I say I am a Klutz - I mean I am The Most Fabulous Klutz In All the Land. Truth is, I don't actually tell you people half the stuff I do for fear someone's going to call Whore Protective Services and have me locked up for self-destructive behavior.

The thing is, I should be forced to live in a big giant ball of those plastic packing bubbles that are so fun to pop. The world - and my body - would be a much safer place.

Anyway.

So the bad news is The Car was snowed in, but the good news is The Husband had the good sense to buy a 4-Wheel drive vehicle some years back. It's not that I had to go anywhere today, but the idea of actually being stuck at home, forced to do something wacky like relax for a day drives me to fits of hysteria and I wind up clanking a coffee cup on the window screaming, "Attica... ATTICA!"

I called The Mother to see if she needed us to come dig her out and she did, so we did. Wahoo! An escape. We got her situated and headed back home when I realized we were out of milk and, well, hey we all know I needed eggs. So The Husband set to a project and I was on my merry way.

I hit the gas station, the drug store (needed a little Motrin for Mr. Toe), Blockbuster (Sex & The City Marathon, thankyouverymuch) and The Dreaded Grocery Store. I was determined this time that I would make it in and out without incident. I was strategic in my planning. I got a cart and filled it with heavy things like milk and bottles of water and orange juice so as to give me leverage on my way back to the truck.

Funny thing about being in "Winter Storm Watch 2005!!! duh...duh...duuuhhhhhh", people's shopping needs have changed. Last night it was all about bottled water and bulk products. Today it was all about cases of beer, massive chips, and cigarettes - whether they smoked or not. The romanticism of the snow had worn off and people needed whatever it took to get through being forced to endure yet another day (2, actually, according to the weatherman) of blizzard-like conditions and fierce cold. It was time to get out the big boys - beer and chips and nicotine.

Me? I got myself the latest InStyle Magazine and heavy things. Oh, and English Muffins for the proverbial Whore Family Tradition of having mini pizzas made on English Muffins for a fun snack.

Oh, yeah. And I got eggs.

So I got to the truck without incident and trollied on my merry way through the Great Snow Banks of '05.

I got home just in time, too. The pinky toe was starting to swell.

Poor Little Gipper.

It seems like yesterday I was incessantly whing about the oppressive heat.

Today - 4 inches (and counting) of the white stuff all over the ground and a nice layer of ice underneath.

I was chatting with my friend over at Veg4Me and she shared with me an unfortunate incident concerning mail and curbs and sprained ankles when I had to confess my own tumble in the jungle.

(Author's Note: Fabulous chica that Veg, but we should not be together in a room with things to trip over or fancy items to knock off shelves.)

I was at the gas station this morning and on my way in to pay my feet mysteriously came out from under me and I took a nice spill on to my arse. Fortunately the attendant is usually to stoned on the Happy Herb to notice, though I am certain passers by caught a good luok at my butt mid flight.

The rest of the day went without incident as I was in the confines of my office and big objects are strategically placed as not to be obstacles in my path.

However.

As I mentioned before we've got a good splattering of snow and more is on the forecast to come. Actually, all the media outlets are calling it "Winter Storm Watch 2005!!!" with all that "duh duh duuuhhhhhh" music behind it.

Anyway.

So I had this small Trick tonight and I had a few last minute things to get at the grocery store. But because of Winter Storm Watch 2005 ...duh duh duuuhhhhhh... everyone and their brother was at the store, too, stocking up on things like bottled water and 20lb. bags of flour. So I had to park waaaaaaaaaaaaaay out in no-man's land.

I sighed heavily as I looked at the icy-snowy expanse of pavement before me and prayed I would not have a repeat of the Triple Axle Lutz I performed at the gas station earlier in the morning.

I decided The Shuffle was my best strategic move and began the slow but steady pace of shuffling my way to the front door.

The store, as I menioned, was packed. There was nary a cart to be had so I opted instead for a small hand basket and went about my business gathering fresh basil and pine nuts. Then I remembered we were out of eggs at home so I grabbed a dozen and was ready to roll.

The check out lines were monstrous and filled with desperate looking people and their 20-lb. bags of flour, parkas dripping melting snow. I passed the time reading the latest People magazine and picking ice crystals out of my mittens.

Checking out went without incident (a miracle) and I was on my merry way.

I carefully stepped onto the pavement and began my Strategic Shuffle out to my car when a gust of wind picked up and took my scarf with it and carried it about 10 feet in front of me. Just about that time a car was coming and my scarf was in it's path. So I took off on a little run...

I took off on a little run...

And fell flat on my ass.

The pine nuts and basil survived the fall. The eggs - sadly - did not.

They say "Pride Cometh Before The Fall".

In my world, "The Fall Cometh Before All".

When we Trick for weddings and we sit for consultation with The Client, The Partner always gives what we call The Partner Speech.

“The Wedding is all about The Bride; The Reception is all about The Guests”.

So often Brides completely lose all sense of decency and forget about simple acts of human kindness.

People are there to see you, yes. And it is your special day, so by all means make the most of it. Have all the fanfare you want at the wedding. Have Doves fly in and drop beautiful rose petals in your hair. Have The Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing the Hallelujah Chorus in your honor. Have people stand and wave little flags. Whatever. Live it up.

But when the wedding is over and it’s time to shuffle your people off to the reception there are two basic things you need to know: These people took time out of a busy life to come and see you get married. They dressed up and probably brought you a fabulous gift. So feed them early and feed them well.

We had such a speech with The Clients from last Tuesday’s Trick. We were all pretty clear on when The Guests would be arriving and what time they would eat. 7:30 was the time we agreed upon.

The food was hot and ready and our staff was lying in wait.

7:15 – No guests.

7:25 – No guests.

7:35 – Nada.

7:45 – The Wedding Planner Arrives.

I greeted her at the door. “So I assume the agreed upon time of 7:30 is no longer on the table?”

“Oh, yes. Well, let me check my agenda and see where we are at…”

Her “agenda” was a 25 page booklet of lists and detailed instructions.

Food was listed on page 18.

“Ok, well. The deal is that The Bride & Groom are doing the receiving line at the church so we’re probably another 30 minutes out from guest arrival.”

"You think so, huh?"

She just sort of stood there staring at Page 18.

I shook my head and walked away.

It’s not my gig and I was there to serve. But what she was asking me was to hold food for an extra hour and a half, basically. Which in my world is a nightmare.

Not to mention, there were 385 people wandering around the room looking for a snack. They were hungry. They were forced to sit through a 90 minute wedding – which I am sure in their eyes was not so “fabulous”. They had to be bored to tears and the only thing keeping them afloat – and awake – was the idea that a hot meal was waiting for them.

But instead what they got was a 25 page program full of things like grand announcements and Vaudeville acts.

We watched from the kitchen as The Guests found their place cards and looked longingly toward the kitchen. We considered sneaking out baskets of bread to table 23. The median age at that table was 74.3 and you could tell those folks were hungry. Sweet Aunt Mildred was picking snags of her sweater and I would swear she put the little pills of yarn in her mouth for sustenance.

And who could blame her?

She gave up her Canasta game to come pay her respects and – let’s be honest – get the free meal. She was nearly 4 hours after her normal dinner time and the stress of it was starting to show.

The entire room was tense. You could tell people were tired of sitting, tired of waiting, and didn’t give two shits if the 3rd Bridesmaid in line “Was there when The Bride got her braces off”.

People were dropping like flies. Some snuck out the back door. Others fell asleep at their tables.

This lasted until approximately 9:15 – the time in which the first plate was served.

People were desperate at this point. They shoveled the food into their mouths so fast it was like working a speed eating contest.

But I totally got it. They were hungry.

And I know by this point they were totally regretting dressing up and buying a fabulous gift.

Feed them early and feed them well, People.