Are you picturing me sitting in a pew with my beloved Apple iBook hidden behind a hymnal?
It’s not quite like that.
I’m part of a Connections Expo hosted by St. Luke’s United Methodist Church. The parish is huge, 4000 members. Second Helpings is one of a dozen organizations set up in the lobby. It is a great event and very well organized. The have three services, 8:15, 9:30 and 11:00. They have policemen directing traffic and folks on golf carts shutting people to the church. It is wild between services—reminds me of a half time of a football game and I’m a beer vendor. I’m passing out information and talking as fast as I can, then boom—they’re all gone. I’ve got another hour before the next rush.
I worked at the Red Key last night until 2:30 and had to be here at 7:30.
And a shower is extra necessary after a Red Key shift.
I smelled like cigarette smoke, cheeseburgers and beer---heavy on the smoke.
I’m not a smoker, but I think I breathe in least a pack every Saturday.
Last year Indianapolis passed a stupid non-smoking law. Establishments that have under 21 year-old customers are required to be non-smoking. All others can be smoking. It forced a lot of restaurants to make a tough decision. And it made the bars smokier. People actually come to the Red Key because they can smoke. The bar is 56 years old.
My theory: Once the first cigarette of the day is lit, all of the old cigarettes come to visit. I’m so smoky at the end of the night I take all of my clothes off on my front porch. It was 15 degrees last night, but there was no way I was bringing those smoky things in the house.
Since this is the non-sequitur post, I’ll tell you about my last few days.
Friday was a typically busy day. I’m the Director of Volunteers and Building Maintenance. The building maintenance is a new part of my job responsibilities, but a natural fit. And I was doing it anyway. I grew up on a farm and managed restaurants for years. If something is broken, fix it. No need to have a meeting to discuss it. Of course, growing up on a farm I learned to fix things by the hammer method. If it’s broken, hit it with a hammer. If that does not work, hit it with a bigger hammer.
Friday morning I plunged a toilet and reattached the chain in said toilet, unstuck a drain and took apart the VCR to unjam a tape. I pitched the food safety tape and went on-line to purchase another one. To replace the tape it was going to cost $318 not including shipping and handling. I took the tape out of the trash, spliced the broken part, tested it and put it back in rotation. We were short a volunteer driver so I got to deliver food (picture big van, coldest day of the winter, slick sidewalks and Nora in a short skirt and tall boots). I spent the afternoon doing the stuff that is actually my job.
That evening I volunteered to pass out programs for a show at the Indiana Roof ballroom. A friend of mine asked me to help and she has helped with music stuff that I do, so I was happy to return the volunteer favor. I didn’t pay any attention to what I was volunteering for until I was ready to leave work and Googled the performers name.
Suzanne Westenhoffer is a comedian.
A lesbian comedian.
With a huge following.
1000 lesbians and Nora.
I take that back. 980 lesbians, 20 gay men and Nora.
I would hand someone a program and they would say: “Nora, I’m so excited to see you here.” You could tell that they were thinking, “Ah, this makes so much sense, no wonder she’s single.” I figured it was not the time or the place to stomp my little feet and shout “I’M NOT A LESBIAN, I’M JUST PASSING OUT PROGRAMS, FOR GOD’S SAKE.”
From there I went to the Marigold holiday dinner party. It’s always too stressful to try to plan something during December so we get together in January. The dinner was lovely and wine and stories flowed. It was a great way to end the day.
I had to be back at Second Helpings at 8:00 the next morning, a college service group was volunteering and I had to get them organized. I went home for a big fat nap and went to work at the Red Key.
Since I’m sitting in a church, I feel the need to confess.
I alluded to it in the last post. I did something out of character for me after the AFC championship game.
I blame the champagne.
I kissed JB, the guy I work with every Saturday night.
We’ve always been great friends and a little flirty. JB is a great (younger) guy and nice as can be. I knew that working together last night would be weird, but we fell back to our usual work relationship easily.
I don’t think we made eye contact for the first five hours, but we got through it.
And, in the when-it-rains-it-pours category—I had a date Thursday night.
It’s so hard to tell.
Either way, it was a lovely evening.