Last night was the final PTO meeting of the year. Because it was my final meeting as Treasurer, I think it’s now time to reflect on the things I’ve learned about myself in the past 24 months.
1. It’s not completely necessary to take a Xanax before the meetings. (It’s 54% necessary. Sometimes 83% necessary. Last night? Only 17% necessary. It’s fun joking about medication, isn’t it? Not really. I’M JUST SPEAKING MY TRUTH.)
2. I don’t mind the meetings, but what I *really* love is going out for a drink AFTER the meetings. Last night was no exception. One more year in the books, and 8:00 found me drinking a beer (and eating pickle chips) while sitting outside at a biker bar with a few friends who have great stories to tell. Not a bad gig. BONUS: I’m the secretary next year, so this tradition can continue for me! (Note my comma. I’m not the secretary next year so this tradition can continue for me, I’m the secretary (tiny pause) so this tradition can continue for me!)
This evening I was invited to attend a meeting about phone surveys and community concerns and as I drove to that meeting, it occurred to me that there might not REALLY be a meeting about phone surveys and community concerns. It might ACTUALLY be a surprise party for me! And I felt a little nervous, yet super excited because I’m wearing a cute shirt and today’s mascara is waterproof (although my skin is terrible lately. I’m blaming the oranges that I can’t seem to stop eating.). Come to find out, tonight’s event really WAS a meeting about phone surveys and community concerns, and Good News: I managed to say at least five noteworthy things. (Someone was taking notes.) ((I’ve been self-conscious lately about the quality of words that come out of my face.)) Although tonight’s meeting was actually a meeting and I find that MOST events really DO go down the way they were advertised, I still recommend living in a state of ‘What If I’m About to Be Surprised?’. It makes your eyes wider!
This afternoon I went to the grocery store and watched two elderly women dipping their hands into the salad bar stuff and snacking away as if that’s what you do. I said hello and filled my little environmentally stupid container with a glob of quinoa super salad (!!!) and walked away just knowing that I was missing out on something great. (The more talkative lady had at least ten slices of pepperoni in one hand and was using her other hand to grab peas. It made me so happy because you and I both know that we’re taking a risk when loading up at the salad bar. Sometimes it’s sort of nice to see what we’re up against—pee lemons and finger peas!)
That thing you’re going to tomorrow? It’s not really a thing. It’s actually a surprise party for you. Think about that when you’re choosing your outfit for the day. And take a few minutes to practice your “What the…?!” face, because you can’t retake surprise party photos! Open the gates and seize the day. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
I would SO photobomb any pictures you’re in at a suprise party. Just saying…
I do the SAME THING. A little tiny voice in my head always says “what if it’s a surprise? wouldn’t that be the coolest?” Turns out that the voice is always wrong. Oh well. I guess that makes us optimists. :)
The only things on my agenda tomorrow are:
1. Get RhoGAM shot at the infusion lab
2. OB appt, where I’ll get my Tdap shot
3. Final Lamaze class with my husband.
If ANY of those was actually a surprise party for me instead of what my calendar currently says, I would be MUCH more excited about Thursday.
I will tell you (and evidently the entire internet) a secret, Angie. Remember back when I first met you and my leg was in a boot from a broken ankle? Well, a while before that, my family had planned a surprise party for me. Only (Surprise!) I broke my ankle. But I totally knew about the surprise, only of course they didn’t know that I knew, so I watched in great amusement as the plans shifted just a bit to accommodate the fact that I had a broken ankle for the occasion. But the day it all came down? Hair? Miraculously fresh and well-coiffed. Eyes? Bright and shiny. Guest room? Prepped and ready despite the disability issue because (Surprise!) my friend from New Zealand showed up for the occasion and was staying here afterwards. Best of all? Even though I had known for months that she was coming, the look on my face when she popped out of the crowd was complete “Astonishment!” We have the pictures to prove it, a very smug and satisfied family planning committee, and some secret memories to cherish all the more because my eyes were as wide as my smile.
So, your advice? It’s the truth!
Can I please make that last paragraph my Facebook status, and quote you of course?
(And, so, okay, so this post totally has me wishing and praying that you and commenter Kim are both happily surprised with a surprise party soon. Y’all deserve it!)
Ohhhh this entry is PERFECT.
funny, I’m planning a little surprise for my manager/lifesaviour/assistant tomorrow, taking her to lunch. and she has NO IDEA. and she will be wearing leggings-as-pants and have no makeup on, because if I told her ANYTHING at all to get her to look cute, it would ruin the surprise. And for the record, I have never been surprised. not once. I always know. and lie. because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Surprise!
I really, really love the way that you see the world.
I just love it when you write stuff like this and I get to read it and chuckle and go on about my day with a smile on my face. Please don’t ever stop. :)
I will shower and put on makeup toda, just in case.
Dipping their hands into the salad bar…. this made me pale. People are gross and yes I’m that person who would have reported them to the manager. Ugh, you’re a stronger person than me.
I’m still trying to perfect my perfect smile, head tilt, and hold my chin higher pose when getting my picture taken. I am no where near ready for a surprise party.
Oh…now I feel the need to dress nice for work tomorrow. I wonder how short of a skirt I can get away with while riding the scooter.
I love thinking any event is a surprise party. Not si much about the salad bar:)
Your salad bar story is horrifying and makes me want to become a more prepared vegetarian who never gets caught in a suburban neighborhood with no lunch on hand.
The last paragraph is wonderful. I want to pin it up on my bathroom mirror and read it every morning.
I’m with Amy in StL. I would have started shrieking at the salad bar contaminators.