Captain’s Log 5,624
Gosh! The open house is going to be bigger than I ever imagined! I really thought maybe….12 people. But now, it looks more like……60! I didn’t realize I know that many people.
Holy crapola, Batman! Good thing there is a lot of margarita fixings left over from the cast party. Think I will need those. I have a lot of lemons to use for preparing the glasses, but the tree is also full of new flowers. New flowers mean TONS of bees out there doing bee stuff. So I can only harvest the lemons at night whilst donning my geocaching headlamp.
Also an excellent product to use whilst examining bomb shelters.
Speaking of bomb shelters (and mine will be open for tours at the housewarming party), I had an issue with mine last Saturday night. The wood swelled up a bit once the door was open, and when I tried to close it about 1:00 in the damn morning, I couldn’t do it. So I got out a hammer and pounded the living snot out of the edge of the door. It finally slid into place but now the door won’t open at all. Methinks it will require some manly upper body strength to reopen it.
Someone at the party suggested I decorate it with photographs of famous serial killers…..and lots of sharp objects. I was thinking…..boning knives, cheese slicers, a saw or two, and my weed whacker.
Bomb shelter door in the fractured light of morning. Isn’t it beautiful? The two spots of light sort of make it look like aliens might be trapped down there with shining eyes.
I don’t drive on the door, but I do walk on it every day on my way to the mail slot in the garage. It’s a constant reminder that the Russians might attack us at any given moment. I feel so very safe. Some neighbors were walking by the other night and the fellow said he grew up in the neighborhood and remembers going down into my bomb shelter with the kids who lived in my house. I invited them to the party so he can recreate some history.
We have a wine and cheese party at the museum tonight for 75 people. We could have done it ourselves, but I refuse to cut the cheese all afternoon. If I can pay the caterer to provide cheese, fruit, and assorted breads and crackers for a mere $3.50 per guest, I consider that a bargain. We went to Trader Joe’s yesterday and got some cheap wine and their in-house brand of beers. Brewed in Tecate, Mexico (about and hour from San Diego), it should please the dudes. We spent $146. I might actually break even on this party instead of losing money. One of the black hat guys (who no longer has any power at the museum) used to insist on elegant wing-ding affairs for exhibit openings. It was very common for us to lose $3,000 every time. I tried to explain that if we charge $10 a guest, I cannot pay the catering company $16 per guest AND provide the alcohol on top of that. Especially since the exhibitors and a guest are all comped free of charge. I am not an economist, but even I can figure that one out.
I stayed pretty Zen over these last few days and have just allowed hateful remarks about me to roll harmlessly away from my soul. Last week, I was so ready to explode with anger and knock the bad guys off their horses. But I stayed cool and remembered the great words of Terry Cole-Whittaker.
What you think of me is none of my business.
Terry Cole-Whittaker, considered to be a New Age guru by some and a New Age flake by others.
I had the honor of working with her a few times when I was in the church biz. I found her to be very charming, forthright, kind, funny, intelligent, and spot-on. I bless her for the wisdom I was able to draw on over these last few days.
Zen is returning. It is not flooding back in terms of the job, but it is deluging me in other areas. I am so very blessed. Even this horrendous experience with the Confederacy has made me stronger in that I recognize the type of person I hope I will never become.