why do i do this again?
Aug. 18th, 2005 10:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
daniwithteathe gallon of gravy is made, and bagged, and chilling. the glasses are washed and packed, as is as much of the serveware and stuff that i can pack this far in advance. there's another load of stuff finishing in the dishwasher. tomorrow after work, i do last-minute produce shopping, chop herbs, make sauce for ziti, roast the beef, slice the beef and the ham, make the sauces/broths for the chicken and beef, bake the rolls. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fuzzybutchkins gets to unpack and pack the car(s) while i cook. saturday morning, get up nice and early, trim and bake the chicken, assemble the ziti (including boiling the pasta), make mashed potatoes, pack the rest of the crap. fuzzybutchkins gets to make the rice and haul more shit around. then we head to the site, cut the fruit, unpack all the shit, reheat and plate everything, bake the ziti, cook the beans, make the coffee, assemble the punch. Lunch service is at 1:45 (buffet). after lunch is done, while the attendees are doing the socializing-and-presents thing, we clean up, pack up, smoke lots, make sure the water pitchers stay full. Then we cut and serve the cake, pack up the glasses, and go the hell home. event's over at 5. there will be takeout for dinner.
i'm already exhausted, and i haven't *done* anything yet. every event i do, i hit this point where i ask why i do this (it's certainly not for the money), why i put my body through this. i always push through it, and once i get in the kitchen the day of, i'm sailing. feeding people...there's something spiritual about it for me, a giving, a connecting, that i just don't get anywhere else.
wow, i'm tired. there was a rant there, a stream of conciousness that i just lost. time to empty the dishwasher and put myself to bed.
fuzzybutchkins gets to unpack and pack the car(s) while i cook. saturday morning, get up nice and early, trim and bake the chicken, assemble the ziti (including boiling the pasta), make mashed potatoes, pack the rest of the crap. fuzzybutchkins gets to make the rice and haul more shit around. then we head to the site, cut the fruit, unpack all the shit, reheat and plate everything, bake the ziti, cook the beans, make the coffee, assemble the punch. Lunch service is at 1:45 (buffet). after lunch is done, while the attendees are doing the socializing-and-presents thing, we clean up, pack up, smoke lots, make sure the water pitchers stay full. Then we cut and serve the cake, pack up the glasses, and go the hell home. event's over at 5. there will be takeout for dinner.i'm already exhausted, and i haven't *done* anything yet. every event i do, i hit this point where i ask why i do this (it's certainly not for the money), why i put my body through this. i always push through it, and once i get in the kitchen the day of, i'm sailing. feeding people...there's something spiritual about it for me, a giving, a connecting, that i just don't get anywhere else.
wow, i'm tired. there was a rant there, a stream of conciousness that i just lost. time to empty the dishwasher and put myself to bed.
