Autumn Events

So, the past month has been crazy busy with events. Here, I will break down the highlights.

1) Bridal shower for 200 women
Yes, it was as awful as it sounds. I have been to only one of these and I was in the bridal party, so it was more fun. But I can't imagine being a guest at one of these would be that great. It's like a wedding without men or alcohol, essentially. And no dancing. Those are the best things about weddings - dancing with men, while drinking alcohol. And it's during the daytime. :(

The one difference is the cookies. Ohhh, the cookies. Dozens of little nonnas and zias (these are the Italian words for grandmother and aunt, right?) begin to trail in carrying trays and boxes of all sorts of pastries. It was then my job to organize them and get them ready for the mad rush of hungry women. They throw elbows.


(And, yes, that is a hula dancer dressed in a bridal gown you see. Just another day.)

Needless to say, I add "Sampling" to my job description that day. But, other than those lemon glazed ones and cannoli, the rest are sort of blah. And all taste the same. Like the same piece of cardboard. Give me some AngloSaxon or Waspy treats any day - Nanaimo bars, buttertarts, Belgian cookies...

2) Bar Mitzvahs - several
Boys became men, I became bored. Or at least exhausted by the end of the weekend. Giving a 13 year old kid everything he wants is hard work. Ok, that came out wrong. Way wrong. Regardless, there were photo booths, cakes bigger than my dehumidifier, kids being lowered from rock climbing gym ceilings, candy bars, DJ services that cost more than my last 2 cars - combined, kids stealing booze and nary a piece of bacon to be found. Although we made up for it with food trucks - THE thing in Hamilton these days. However, if anyone is looking for a cupcake truck - ask me which one NOT to use! I've got a personal vendetta that I'm trying to keep alive.



Eventually, the bar mitzvahs seemed to blend together and I always found myself sitting and waiting for the 3 hour service to finish. Being the Sabbath, we weren't allowed to do any work in the synagogue - this was a nice change from the last minute scramble of typical events.




3) 600 guest Italian wedding
This is my second one of the summer - brothers, no less - and it's exactly what you might think it is. For me, it was a long day and I had to deal with a groomsman getting locked inside the church (INSIDE!), stabbing the father of the bride with the boutonniere and many children flying all over the place. The one good thing was that I did NOT tell the bride to think about dog fighting this time. I'm learning to shut up.

I actually got to eat a meal at this one, which was a nice treat. I usually get to eat like this - sitting in the hallway for 20 seconds at a time between running to tend to things.

But, really, is this just not a little bit ridiculous? Yes, I get that it's a jumbo shrimp, but wowsa!


Looking forward to some slower downtime - and more posting!

Rethink the ink

This blog drought is out of control. It's been looming over me and gets worse every day that I don't blog. So instead of focusing on how many things are swirling around in my head to write about and how many days it has been since I last posted, I thought I would just chill. And post something. Just one because that's all I have time for today.

Tattoos. That is the subject of today's post. I read a funny tweet recently that said "White girls spend 15% of their lives talking about cutting bangs." This is quite possibly true. I also think that white girls spend about 15% of their high school years talking about getting a tattoo.

In my high school group of friends, there were a few who did get them done, which of course left the rest of us to talk about what WE would get - when we all knew we never actually would. I can remember many a lunch hour spent discussing the merits of your name (apparently too self-absorbed), a Chinese symbol (the word "courageous" really gets me through those tough times or the symbol for the word "pineapple" looks kinda cool), our zodiac sign (yeah, I've always wanted the picture of a virgin on my lower back) or some sort of douchebag tribal whatsit. Oooh, or the arm band and tramp stamp.

These were the options 10th grade girls came up with in the 1990s.

I think there are two types of girls - ones who actually get tattoos and ones who don't. I don't mean to bash anyone who has them - I'm learning that some people find it perfectly acceptable to not live their life exactly like mine - but they're not for me. I think getting a tattoo says something about the person and I'm pretty sure it's not what they intended it to say.

Somehow, of the few girls who got tattoos in my group, TWO of them got geckos. On their ankles. WHAT?! A gecko? Seriously? What does that even mean? They might as well inked a mailbox or an Allan key on their skin FOR-EV-ER. They weren't even the same geckos. Not sure why that matters, but maybe it would have been cooler if they seemed to be in an amphibian gang or something.

The reason the tattoo is on my mind is because for the last 24 hours there has been one on my arm. I was producing a bar mitzvah and the kids go crazy for these temporary hand-inked tattoos. Hopefully this will lessen the interest in them later on.

In an attempt to keep my eyes open at the end of a very long day while waiting for the party to end, I decided to get one done. Lots of people were getting those hearts with banners exuding their love for "Mother" or "Jenny" or some other person in their lives.

I thought it would be funny to get this - the true love of my life:


I can tell you right now that NO ONE got it. NO ONE. I had several clients come up and take a look - then a blank stare. In hindsight, it might have been career suicide.

I thought it was funny.
The next morning, it freaked me out and every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror I looked like a stranger. I had a baby shower to go to that day and purposely chose a dress that tried to hide it. Yes, I could have just washed it off, but it proved to be a very interesting social experiment. Well, more like a personal experiment. I hated it. I hated how I thought people looked at me or the type of person they might think I am based on this tattoo. I wasn't expecting this, but it defined me (at least in my own head) as someone I didn't want to be. It was like an instant label.

I was embarrassed by it. I kept trying to hide it and make sure everyone knew it was fake...I actually felt desperate to do so. Strange. My family also hated it and thought it looked weird - seeing it puts me in a different category of person than the one they've known for 30 years. I know these statements seem really melodramatic, but it truly felt that way.



I thanked my lucky stars that I had the good sense to resist the peer pressure and amphibian gang initiations back in high school. It would not have been a good idea.

Hmmm...

Why does my green bin always look the healthy, fresh food I should have eaten during the week? This can't be right...

What Big Eyes You Have...

I don't know about you, but this really doesn't seem like the most prudent name for an optical boutique. But who knows? How I got talked into these frames is still a blur.

Neighbourhood Watch

Lovely day in the neighbourhood. I do really appreciate how neatly printed and visually appealing it is.



The next day the sign was gone - I'm pretty curious how this rumble will shake out.

The Devil Is In The Details

It's not so much that I'm bothered by their clubhouse being located in my city, but it's the incorrect punctuation, or lack thereof, that really irks me.



I drove by last night and tried to take my own picture, but then saw all the video cameras perched on the roof and remembered the newspaper article I had read. I put the camera away.

Off With Their Heads!

Since you all surely use this blog as an arbiter of trends, I thought I'd fill you in on the latest in ridiculous ways to spend time, typically when you are tipsy or hopped up on cheese. Planking is so July. Horsemaning is where it's at. From the headless horseman of lore, this requires two people and if done correctly, it will look like Person 1 has had their head detached from their body:


If done on a Tuesday night while drinking wine on the porch with hilarious friends, it will look like this:


Yep, it needs some work.

Exercising Redux

Perhaps it's the looming decade and the big 3-0 around the corner, but I'm in a mood to make changes across the board. Whatever the reason, I found myself making an appointment with my friend Paul. He is a personal trainer and pretty much the most buff and fit person I know.


I've dabbled in working out before but it never really took. This time I was committed. Having a personal trainer and standing appointments really makes it easier for me. I hate breaking plans, so I'm determined to show up. Plus, we get to gossip about our weekends in between sets. We like to play the game of "Who Made The Worst Decision on Saturday Night?" It's often a tie.



So, I committed to working out with him 3 times a week. And it has been 6 weeks and I haven't missed an appointment. Who is this new Winnie Cooper?!? I still dislike it, but at least I'm there. We only do weight training, no cardio and at the end he "rewards" me with a protein shake that tastes like an orange creamsicle. It's insane how excited I've become for that shake. I'm like Pavlov's jacked dog.



A food reward used to be, well, every single meal, especially those with cheese. Now I'm getting excited for water and powder? We were discussing my diet recently and he couldn't believe what I eat and I came back with, "Of course I'm going to eat what I want. I (have had) a wicked metabolism and I'm an adult - isn't this the whole point of adulthood? I no longer have to eat food I don't want to and why would I choose to do so?" He is attempting to put a stop to this.



So, for the first 3 weeks I still ate whatever I wanted and worked out thrice weekly. For the fourth and fifth weeks I endeavoured to overhaul my diet and eat only what he told me. Mostly this was whole wheat pasta, tuna, oatmeal, Udo's oil, spinach, pita, salmon, chicken sandwich on ONE piece of flax bread and cottage cheese. Hardly any bread, no real cheese, NO sugar. It was awful. Well, that's not true, it was okay for the first few days and I lost some weight pretty quickly.

Then came the sixth day. Before, when I tried a 180 degree change the sixth day always proved the most difficult. This time the sixth day came on a rainy Saturday where I was working all weekend, exhausted and in a general funk. The thought of eating chicken (which is the most bland of meats) with 1/2 cup of whole wheat pasta made me want to cry. So, I broke down and ate what made me happy. Grilled cheese.

Food makes me happy. It just does. I get pleasure and enjoyment from food. Nothing in the diet made me happy. How can someone live like that? So, the one day slip stretched into a weekend and then a week and now I'm back to eating whatever. This is not good. We are in the process of coming up with a realistic compromise meal plan.

The thing about the working out is that I do get a small amount of satisfaction from it. For example there are these Romanian deadlifts that he's had me doing and the first time, I could barely lift the bar alone - 45 pounds. Now, I'm doing 115 pounds. And I really like that and feel accomplished.

So, I guess we'll see what kind of compromise we can make with regard to my meals, but I'm sticking with the workouts at least until Melebration and we'll see what's what.

But Tracy, I have just one thing to say to you: I'm coming for a rematch. And I'm bringing my guns.

Mail Round-Up

Mail Fail:


All Hail The Mail:

I'm Over It

Seeing this has the same effect as:

- finally killing that mosquito that's been buzzing around my ear - and by buzzing, I mean writing things like "Yo mama, hit me back if u wanna chat!"
- admitting that I don't actually like Thai food when "EVERYONE likes Thai food!"
- throwing out those favourite jeans that I used to love, but that now use sayings like "Love like you've never been hurt..."

Aaaah, relief.

Shark Week

I haven't been able to get this image out of my head all morning.
-----------------------------------
A family were on holiday in Australia when the husband, wife and their 15 year old son decided to go scuba diving. The husband is in the navy and has had some scuba experience. His son wanted a picture of his mum and dad in all their gear so he got the underwater camera ready to go. When it came to taking the picture the dad realized that the son looked like he was panicking as he took it and gave the ‘OK’ hand sign to see if he was alright.

The son took the picture and swam to the surface and back to the boat as quick as he could so the mum and dad followed to see if he was OK. When they got back to him he was scrambling onto the boat and absolutely panicking. When the parents asked why, he said ‘There was a shark behind you!’ The dad thought he was joking but the skipper of the boat said it was true, but they wouldn’t believe him.

As soon as they got back to the hotel they loaded the picture onto their laptop and this was what they saw.

The Power of Planking

By now you all know what planking is. My friend Blake introduced me to it and surprisingly I've only had mild success - I thought my (p)lanky frame would make me a natural but my centre of gravity is way off.



Blake is wicked good.

Then he got Ryan into the mix and that bridge didn't have a prayer: Apparently the new thing is 'owling'. Well, that's just ridiculous.

The Cottage Countdown

The Cottage Weekend, by the numbers:


16 - guests
12 - sleeping spaces in the cottage
2 - tents erected
1 - large bathtub offered as a sleeping option
0 - people who took advantage of this offer
4 - kayaks

15 - worms I hooked for Tim

15 - fish caught

0 - fish larger than 8"

1 - times Tim accidentally drank from his cigarette butt beer bottle
6 - times I kept laughing about it throughout the weekend and beyond
4 - Muskoka chairs

2 - damages (lawn chair from before I was born and coffee mug) - not bad at all
1 - bee hive (with corresponding parental notice)

1 - underwater synchronized water 'show'

1 - weak link in aforementioned water 'show' - you decide

12 - Gluten Free beers
18 - fireside s'mores
10 - haaaawwt pockets - Tracy's delicious fireside creation
6 - times Tracy kept having to remind me how awesome she is
15 - banana boats - now a cottage staple
1 - busted cooler - styrofoam just doesn't hold up the way it used to
2 - crossword puzzles completed

2 - star formations identified - this is embarrassing. "Maybe that's Mars??" doesn't count

1 - freak outs experienced by Julie - "Harry Potter" and "I heard what you said even when you weren't in the room to say it" will forever strike fear into my soul

1 - Snakes and Ladders games won
2 - Snakes and Ladders games where I cheated - I guess they were right, cheaters never prosper

1 - water trampoline trespassed - not that fun or worth the long swim to get there
1 - mosquito bite on my left shoulder that is swelling so badly that I look like Quasimodo

These all add up to a great weekend...now if you'll excuse me, I'm itching to go ring the bell in the clock tower.

To a Tee

The message t-shirt. I've loved it:


I've laughed at it: (and said, "Really? Are you sure?")


I found myself in a Bluenotes the other day and these made me smile.




And then there's the t-shirt fail:

11 Year Old

Attn: Neighbourhood kid who decided to befriend me yesterday while I watered the plants.

No, this is not going to turn into a feel-good Lifetime movie where we forge an unlikely friendship and you teach me how to care about people and I help you overcome your stutter. Just because you selected me to strike up a conversation with and we spent an entire 10 minutes talking about summer camp, gardening, the weird kid on the block and why you're sitting your bike on my garden hose, this does not make us friends.

I am not Mr. Wilson to your menacing Dennis. I don't know why you hugged me in the hips. I don't know why you didn't run away when I sprayed you with the hose. I don't know why you kept riding your bike past my house all evening, but it creeped me out.

I don't mean to sound all "Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino" but "Get off my lawn!"

Happy Canada Day!

Yes, it's belated, but this picture is too awesome not to post.



How cool are we?

Summer School

Trivia has come to an end for another season - or at least it has for me. They're dragging it out a bit this year, but I'm taking back my Monday nights until Thanksgiving. For example, tonight I am eating grilled cheese on the porch then going for a swim - can't let cerebral exercise interfere with that. After winning last week's round (natch) Kevin, Jim and I recapped our season and organized strategy for continued victory in the 2011-2012 season. Yes, we are giant nerds. Ones that will kick your asses each week!

We determined our shortcomings and made a study list for each of us for the summer. This is what we've come up with:

I think I got the short straw. I have to study the whole frickin' universe.

Where Can I Get One Of These?

The Main Event

Several times a year there is an event that is greater than all the other events. Whether it's the size and scale of the party of the VIP nature or even the budget - it's huge and dwarfs every other event that month. Yesterday was one such event - a 600 guest Italian wedding for a notable Hamiltonian. As a regular person, just hearing the words "600 guest Italian wedding" causes me to shudder but as an event planner, it's a major coup and usually turns out to be a great opportunity to impress and excel.

I worked the entire long weekend and my Canada Day celebrations consisted of my grumbling as the fireworks kept me from getting the 4 hours of sleep I would have access to the entire weekend.

Last night, as I furtively ate a cannoli while waiting to cue the best man's speech, I took a moment to compile my thoughts about this major event. In no particular or no particularly sensible order:

- Have you ever been in the massive church near the 403 and Dundurn? It's like our city's Catholic mothership and it's quite grand inside. They're also very strict. Apparently if you leave your keys and phone behind a holy water...statue thing and come back for it after dealing with the wedding party, the doors will be locked. After freaking out and knockin' on heaven's door, the priest (?) will begrudgingly let you in and give you the eye like he knows you're not even Catholic. At the rehearsal he made people put up their hands if they weren't - not sure why. As a Protestant event planner at the Italian wedding, and the only one with a clipboard, I stood out.

- My favourite part of any wedding is that short moment I get alone with the bride right before she walks down the aisle. She's typically really nervous and vulnerable and I can be the calm and professional presence to help her relax and focus - it's just a sweet little moment in the chaotic day where we can connect. Yesterday, this beautiful 23 year old was shaking and about to cry. She asked me what she should think about to avoid freaking out or sobbing. I told her to think about the first thing that came to my mind - the complete opposite of anything wedding related: dog fighting. I actually said this to her. Seriously, sometimes I should just be banned from speaking. Especially at crucial moments in people's lives. Luckily, she laughed as I fanned her with a Bible.

- I have become an expert at standing still with my hands clasped behind my back with reverence and poise while an variety of speeches, presentations, ceremonies or slide shows take place. Behind my back, my thumbs are wrestling each other.

- You know who's NOT so good at standing quietly still? Children. I'm sorry, but I truly do not believe young children have a place at an event like a wedding ceremony. At least not the ones present yesterday. Standing near the back of the church, I found myself in what seemed to be a free-for-all wild playground - at least 9 kids, in varying states of unrest. They were all running around (running!), screaming, being chased by indulgent mothers with not a shred of embarrassment or awareness on their faces. Why do they think it's appropriate to allow their children to interrupt and impair guests' enjoyment of a ceremony? Couldn't they have played outside? At home, in their backyard? Yes, yes, I know, I'm the witch in Hansel and Gretel, but come ON.

- Also, dressing your three children in the ever-subtle Burberry plaid, head to toe, does not make it okay for them to cavort around my ankles and grab at my dress. They all blended together and looked like some plaid super-child trying to take me down.

- If there were Event Professional Olympics, I would surely take gold in boutonniere and corsage pinning. I'm wicked good. I never prick anyone (by accident) and they will be secured for the whole day no matter how many aunts and uncles crush them in hugs.

- People really do not know how to dress in a church. Or to a wedding for that matter. It's not Jersey Shore night at Skank, the hottest new club for the under-20 crowd and you're not competing for the Most Orange Skin Showing trophy. Cover your side boob, already! And put your thighs away.

- Fondant sucks. No one likes to eat it and I don't care if it allows you to create a replica of the Notre Dame cathedral in icing. Let's put a picture of the cathedral beside a really good pie and call it a day.

- Also, cupcakes and candy bars are so played. Pie is the new wave. You heard it here first.

- Regarding the candy bar, I learned something about myself last night. If I accidentally drop a Reese's piece into my dress while eating them by the handful, it will fall out at the end of the night when I get changed. And, at 4am, after I find it on the floor, I will eat it. No shame. Or at least, none at 4am on hour 22 of being awake.

- Going on and on about being 'so into fashion' and name-dropping Phillip Treacy would be more easily believable if you were just stylish and quiet. And weren't still wearing turqoise contact lenses. Who are you, Paris Hilton in 2002? Even she's let that one die.

- I spent most of the night nervously watching a candelabra shake and nearly topple from the head table. Rowdy, drunk groomsmen + cheap rented Chinese fabrication = disaster and panicked event planner.

- I want to marry someone who dances. Watching all these older couples doing their best to the latest from Flo Rida and Lady Gaga was pretty awesome. You know they've never heard the song before but they're out there having fun, doing their little shuffle. I want to be 70 and have my husband beside me giving it our best shot. Why not? I guarantee they were having more fun than the couples sitting watching them.

- One of my favourite things about the field I'm in is the control and power I have on event day. Knowledge is power and having all the answers and ability to tell people where they have to be and what to do is way too much fun. I have the power to interrupt people, direct, and boss - this is what they're paying me for. And really, keeping a 30 person wedding party on track requires a firm hand. Those who recognize and respect my role from the get-go are much appreciated. Those (i.e. that charming groomsman who I had to constantly chase into line or the bridesmaid who thinks I am her slave) who resist...well, I suppose no job's easy.

- It is a guarantee that I will always tear up at the father/daughter speeches. Or really any of the speeches for that matter. I'm a total suck for these and it always makes me think about my parents and my special people. Whenever I feel the tears coming, I just try to think of dog fighting. It works.

Hour 21 and counting...