Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2021

Archive for the tag “Parties”

Leaves of…uh…Leaves

covered_bridgeIT IS THE LATTER PART OF OCTOBER IN INDIANA. The trees are at their peak of Autumnal color. The leaves I saw this morning were red, yellow, gold, and blue. Blue? That turned out to be a plastic bag stuck on a branch.

People come from all over to look at the trees and go “Ooh” and “Ahhh.” After that they eat lunch and drive away. They never stay to help clean up the leaves as they fall to earth.

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Halloween, Schmalloween

costumeOK. THAT SOUNDS A LITTLE CYNICAL, I SUPPOSE. I’m not against Halloween or anything like that. It’s just that it paints me into a corner every year. What kind of costume should I have?  Should I buy something or make it myself? Should it be in good taste or just the usual?

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Happy Homecoming You Drunken Fool

drunk-man-sleeping-park-27785199THIS PAST WEEKEND WAS HOMECOMING for the Students and Alumni of Indiana State University here in Terre Haute. (That’s French for, “I can’t feel my face.”)

The town was filled to overflowing with grads coming in from all over the country to revisit a burgeoning campus and attend the Big Game. There is always a Big Game for Homecoming. It must be a law or something.

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A Idea Whose Time May Never Come

giphy-17LIKE IT OR NOT, and I’m not overjoyed about it, but Halloween is coming up fast and spurious. What started out as part of a religious observance has been turned into…I’m not quite sure what. A Candy Corn coated excuse to give children gingivitis? A promo for several TV shows about people in bad makeup stumbling around, snarling like Charlie Sheen on a good day?

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18 For Lunch

phone booth crowdedIT IS VERY DIFFICULT TO CARRY ON A CONVERSATION over lunch when there are 18 people huddled around the table. It can be hard enough when there are only two people, but the additional sixteen can really throw a monkey wrench into the process.

It ends up sounding something like this:

“So, how have you…seen my green beans, they…flew in last Thursday on…your Aunt Martha just before she…slid into third base.”

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Some Ideas Are Better Than Others

Calais MaineEVERY YEAR ABOUT THIS TIME we see stories on the local news or in small items on the inside pages of the newspaper about some poor kid who has had an accident with a firecracker and blown off his thumb or lost an eye.

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The Cake That Wouldn’t Die

Circus cake

IF YOU RECALL, about two weeks ago there was a posting here called

“Now THAT Was A Surprise Party”

It all had to do with an effort to do something nice for someone. We should have known better.

For Newcomers and Amnesiacs I will give a brief reminder of the circumstances.

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Now THAT Was A Surprise Party!

Circus cake

WHEN “THE USUAL SUSPECTS” – aka the clowns slouched in the corner at St. Arbucks most mornings, plan an event you know it is going to be special.

Friday morning was supposed to be a surprise party for one of the baristas who was moving on and up. Yesterday, our Trapeze Artist/College Student/Barista had her last scheduled shift. After that she was moving up to Indy with her Main Squeeze and to spend the summer working with a circus. We saw it as our duty to give her a send-off she wouldn’t forget.

She forgot.

We had ordered a cake from the Kroger, decorated with a miniature plastic circus motif spread across the frosting. The Manager loved the idea and it was to be an early morning gala. The St. Arbucks Tabernacle Choir was going to regale us with prerecorded Muzak. One of the Suspects even offered to perform an interpretive dance. We made sure he took his meds and the offer was withdrawn.

To make something unforgettable is one thing. To make something you can’t ever get out of your mind is something else.

When I suggested that the scene on the cake have one little plastic performer face down in the frosting underneath the tiny trapeze, the lady at the Kroger bakery thought that was in bad taste. She also didn’t like my idea to have her spell out “OOPS!” on the cake.

She forgot.

The party was going to start about 8AM. Any earlier would have seemed awkward, and the cake wasn’t going to be ready until then anyway.

The Guest of Honor was scheduled to open the joint at 6:00 AM – but – she forgot. When other employees showed up the place was still dark. Phone calls to her number went unanswered. We had nobody to Bon on their Voyage.

When the Revelers began to arrive a little before 8:00 everything was on hold. When our Party Planner went to pick up the cake, it wasn’t ready. The bakery staff thought that we wanted it at 7:30 PM even though the receipt clearly said AM. They kicked into overdrive and said they would have it in a half hour.

This whole thing was falling apart.

By 9:00 AM we were getting ticked off. The Manager was getting ticked off. I was getting hungry. I had been counting on that cake. By now I wanted to add some blood red sprinkles around the “Face down in the frosting guy.”

We never have heard from our No-Show Espresso Defector. Maybe we should have told her about the party. Of course, knowing who was behind it all might have gotten the same results. She is willing to risk her life on the high trapeze, but asking her to eat a piece of cake that we hand her might have crossed the line. Can’t really blame her there. This crew makes me nervous sometimes.

I’m willing to forgive and forget.

I’m just glad we decided against renting the Alpacas to add a more “Circus-y” atmosphere. The Manager vetoed that idea – and the unicyclist – and the trained seals. She’s had bad experiences with Craig’s List she said.

We were only trying to help.

Because this whole thing seemed doomed from the start we took the only step that seemed to make sense in the end.

We stiffed Kroger on the cake.

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