It's a good thing I don't get paid by the word. I would be a broke-ass fool living out of my car - my poor car - and drinking things like Mad Dog from a bottle.

Crazy busy times.

There's a saying, right? Don't talk about politics and religon with friends and family? Is that how it goes?

Well there should also be a saying that goes like this - "To save your sanity - elope. Your family will thank you later."

It doesn't happen every time - there really are some incredibly sane and fun people out there. People who view their wedding day as a celebration of their love for another human being and they just want everyone to come and play and have a good time.

And then there are the people who feel this way, but who's family members beg to differ.

When we took the first load out to the site - a private home - The Bride was headed to the bathroom to lock herself in there for a while and take refuge from her brother.

I was bringing in a load of linens when I heard him shout, "I am so tired of you being such a F-ING BITCH!" My back was turned and I gotta be honest - I thought he was talking to me. I sort of froze for a minute not knowing where to look when I heard the Father of The Bride come through and shout, "Shut up - NOW. Go away. Leave. Buh Bye." By this time The Partner came in and froze in her tracks wondering if possibly he was talking to her.

There we were - biting our lips - not knowing which way to turn. And wondering why in God's name this always happens to us. These people were normal. They were fun. Our consultations always ended in laughter and we were so relieved to be taking this one - it seemed like we had found the Golden Ticket.

I sighed and dropped my head and threw up my hands in surrender, and about the time I did that The Mother of The Bride came in and started laughing. Laughing because, as she said, "It is a better alternative to murder, no?" And laughing because the looks on our faces were priceless. Her Husband came into the kitchen and threw up his hands, too. "Are either of you adopting adult children?"

Apparently The Bride and her Brother had been at odds since he arrived home at 7:00 a.m. from a night of taking The Groom around to every watering hole in the city. So that added to nerves, the possiblity of rain on their ceremony, and the fact that The Groom was still sleeping created an air of chaos. All too typical, unfortunately, for a wedding day.

When we were headed out to The Van The Parents followed us and assured us all would be well upon our return. And then The Father said, "But in case it's not, we will leave you a note with instructions to where we have run off to. Bring the food there. To Hell with the rest of them."

No note was needed, fortunately, and the night was a huge success. And The Bride's Brother? He spent the better part of the evening avoiding The Bride. Because upon our arrival back to the house they stood under the portico waiting for family pictures to be taken. The Bride was resplendent in her gown and flowers, and her Brother was handsome in his tux. But as we walked by we heard her say, "...and I swear to God if you say or do anything out of line I will drop kick your sorry ass to the moon. Got it?"

Good times, people.

Good times.

Due to vacations, scheduled time off, and now the flu - The Partner and I have no staff for tomorrow night's Trick. Which isn't a problem - we're big girls and can handle it. It's a small affair, buffet style, and doing it solo is how we started in this business, after all.

But the greatest risk is not that we can't keep up or won't be able to stay on top of things. No - the great risk here is that I am going to have to be out there - with the people. And it's not that I never get out with the people, but the staff is the buffer that allows me to stay in the kitchen and away from those moments when I might open my mouth and words like, "Are you really that stupid?" might accidentally fall out.

The Partner, I will be honest, is nervous.

I have assured her that I will be fine. Yes it's been a busy week and yes someone locked the bathroom door upon their exit (Yeah.. that was fun) and yes someone dropped an entire pan of triple chunk brownie batter on the kitchen floor (Ok, that was me...), and yes - I did accidentally order lamb instead of pork loin, but that issue was fixed and things seem to be looking up.

I should be fine.

Really.

I know, right?

I post a riddle and then like fall off the planet.

I wish I could say that I was whisked off to some exotic locale for a surprise vacation of lounging on the beach and eating lobsters the size of small dinosaurs.

But my absence cannot be explained by anything more exciting than the simple truth:

I am an idiot.

I've been going through changing all my passwords - passwords I've had for a long time and decided in the name of security that it was time to mix things up a little.

My advice to you all... write the damn things down.

Good grief.

So anyway, yes it was a dirty diaper. Placed neatly on a dirty plate next to the dirty baby wipes and empty animal cracker box. I am going to give them the benefit of the doubt and say that clearly they were so overcome by the flavor of our food that they were temporarily blinded and unable to find their way to the restroom to dump the offensive treat.

I have to give people the benefit of the doubt because so far as I know it vodka does not come in a kegerator.

A family came in for a dinner party the other night and reserved our semi-private dining area for all 12 of their guests.

Anyone want to guess what they left behind on the table for us to clean up?

Here's a clue - there were actually 14 people total, with 2 of them being under the age of 2.

"Do you think they will notice?"

"Just look busy - pick up the menu once and a while."

This conversation was overheard spoken by an 8-Top. All business men, all loaded with notebooks and pens. All only wanted water. They were seated, menu'd, watered, given plenty of time when they told their server that they needed more of it.

And then when said server was taking the order of the next table over, she overheard the above conversation. She pretended not to hear it, placed the order of the table she just took, and went back to the Group of 8.

"So are you ready to order, yet?"

They all shifted in their seats. "Oh, boy. We haven't all decided yet."

"Oh no problem! Take your time. Just so you know, there's a $50 table fee if you just want to sit here and drink water."

She smiled and walked away from their table.

They gathered their items and walked out the front door.

Oh to live in a world where I can do as I please, wherever I please, business owners - and class - be damned.

I, too, wish I had balls of steel.

This past weekend was the weekend of the Drop-Off. Which really has all the same makings of a normal Trick except we get to walk away and not watch people wipe their chins with their sleeves as they suck shrimp tails off one another's plates.

This particular destination was set to be in one location, but at the last minute had to be changed due to the increase in the number of guests. We were given the address with an assurance that the location was easy to find, and was only a few more miles than we had planned.

And I suppose if I were a Sherpa the location would have, in fact, been easy to find. But since I gave up that job 8 or so years ago due to a bad fall on Kilimanjaro I seem to have lost some of my Mountain Navigation skills.

*sigh*

The trek up to The Trick was fun in that The Partner and I had some time to talk and play Slug Bug on the journey up the mountain. And with much positive affirmations and rubbing on the dashboard of The Van (The old girl had a tough time pulling that hill), we made it to the top of that very steep incline only to find the road narrowing due to the large volume of cars parked on the shoulder.

We knew we found the spot when I noticed a small opening in the trees and three now-deflated balloons tied to a crooked mailbox post. The road through that small opening was narrow - too narrow for The Van to maneuver and we made peace with the fact that we, too, would have to park on the road and pray a nice man with a pack horse would cross our paths for what was bound to be a long haul to where all these people were.

To backtrack a little I need to share the fact that I am not much of an outdoor person. I mean, I take that back. I am. I love the outdoors, it's just not the wilderness I am so inclined to be in. We are so blessed in the Pacific Northwest to have some of the most beautiful mountains and nature trails in the world, but I would be lying to say I am an avid hiker who packs in three miles to pitch a tent by a babbling brook. I love to go camping, and I will even sleep in a tent as long as it sits next to a big motor home with a satellite dish. And I really prefer a nice shady state park with cozy campfire pits and clean bathrooms and no threat of an ax murderer dragging my body off into the night. (Yes, I am that dramatic.) So my requirements for being in the great outdoors involve a nice bathroom, a good place to build a fire and a place to charge my ipod. A nice country store close by is nice. And, a pool isn't a bad thing. Or, let's be honest, a hotel.

So back to this narrow road...

The Partner and I stood looking down the road realizing that there were thick trees as far as the eye could see, and us with a van full of heavy pans and platters. We saw a lot of walking and heavy lifting. We opted to lock up the van and start walking to see what we were dealing with. The day was gorgeous, but walking in the "thicket" as they say (no idea who 'they' are...) it was a bit dark. But the smells were incredible - and the plant life was gorgeous. And it was so quiet - too quiet, in fact. It gave me the uneasy feeling like we were being watched. We found ourselves walking down and speaking in a whisper, as if to not draw attention to ourselves. No one wants to wake up a rabid squirrel, after all.

After walking for what seemed like an hour (real time: 5 minutes, tops) we finally heard voices. And when we came around the corner and up a little hill we found everyone - and we realized why they choose this place. We walked in to the most gorgeous meadow I had ever seen. We both gasped a little, not expecting this little oasis, and stood in wonder for a minute at how gorgeous it was.

And everyone was so happy, and I can only attribute that to the clear mountain air and the gorgeous flowers. Whatever it was, it was catchy. Within minutes we had 10 volunteers ready to come back to The Van and help us load in. And with everyone in such a good mood no one noticed that I tripped a little (read: slipped on a rock and dropped to 1 knee) and managed to brush it off quickly.

The location was stunning, and I could not think of a better place for a gathering like this. My only concern, besides lack of reasonable bathrooms, was the fact that these people planned to be there until dark - which means they would have to walk back out to the road - in the dark.

The Dark - add that to the list of things that scare me, along with Velveeta cheese, snakes and rabid squirrels.

Oh, and Sasquatch.

And, you know, running out of vodka.

It has been the craziest busiest week of the summer. 15 hour days crazy.

No rest for the wicked, they say.

But the craziest part? People have been... nice.

Happy.

Normal, even.

I don't know what's going on by I am typing this post in a whisper and watching over my shoulder lest someone hear me and is forced to ruin the 5 day streak of goodness.