I never look forward to meetings, and I never expect meetings to be enjoyable and wahoo-inducing. Last night’s band booster meeting did NOT pleasantly surprise me, but as I sat and listened to people speaking in volumes higher than 6 (I rarely go above a 4.), I came up with an idea for a new way to lace my sneakers AND an amazingly genius idea about the potential rights of meeting participation. The idea? If you have volunteered at four events (or have attended four previous meetings), you are handed five tickets at the beginning of the meeting. Each ticket allows you to speak out one time. If you have not volunteered or attended any previous meetings, you may speak up only one time and then you must sit quietly (head nods and shakes are allowed) and rest assured knowing that you will get TWO tickets at the next meeting. Use your tickets wisely.
Oh, I know. Democracy and freedom of speech and God gave us a larynx for a reason, but still. Last night’s meeting went on for two hours and my anxiety reached the “dripping from my ears” level as we discussed the prevention of potential non-conformity and maybe I should just stay home from these things, but I never will. Why? Because I care, and because I want to be the first in line if there is a bread pudding tasting. (So far? No bread pudding. Yet, I will continue to dream because the dream of bread pudding is better than no chance of bread pudding. The dream of bread pudding is what gets me off of the couch.)
It has been a high-anxiety week at the House of Pudding. I’m blaming it on a few things that are definitely not blame-worthy (no cauliflower for my lentils, dog hair on my pants), and I’m slowly doing a fairly good job of crawling out of my overly-charged funk.
The reason for no cauliflower for my lentils: I forgot to buy cauliflower when I was at the store.
The reason for dog hair on my pants:
This is the thing that is currently giving me joy:
I’m at the bakery again, and I know the thing in the circle has something to do with making bread, but to me it is a duck who is feeling a little out of place. (I am someone who has fed lots of bread to lots of ducks. I’m positive that like me, this duck will come around.)
Last week I cleaned out my craft closet and I bagged up all my wool. (Insert Baa, Baa, Black Sheep reference. Be reminded once again that Baa, Baa, Black Sheep has the same melody as The Alphabet Song and also Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.)
This evening I’ll be knitting at the house while Meredith does the pep band thing at the high school. Jeff and Harper are going to see The Killers and I have glitter on my clavicle. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
I love your sense of humor… and certainly your ticket idea is worth sharing !
On the one hand – I agree with your ticket idea. On the other hand……are you sure you really want some of these people at more than one meeting?! Ha!
Also I’m very confused by the idea of preventing non-conformity in the context of band. Where I came from, band was a haven for non-conformists – is that no longer the case? Sad if true.
There was an announcement about a PTA meeting when we went to watch the Cabbage’s school Christmas show. Everything inside me shriveled up and died at the thought of having to go to a PTA meeting. I am so thankful I do not have to do that. You are a super great parent.
I think your ticket idea is true genius, and should spread like wildfire all over the country.
DUCKS! I learned a thing recently that I did not know, which is that bread is not great for ducks. and at first I felt bad but then I decided that like G.I. Joe says, “know is half the battle” and I’ll take better care of ducks going forward. Also this article recommends bread pudding, so feels doubly relevant to share on this post.
https://www.thespruce.com/is-feeding-ducks-bread-bad-386564
^ “knowING is half the battle”
I’m sorry, Joe. I let you down.
What’s the new sneaker re-lacing idea?? Can’t go putting that out in the ether and then leave us dangling like participles!
Oh those meetings. meetings + liking to hear oneself talk = torture for the rest of us