and now it’s dead.

Years ago, I worked with a hysterically eclectic group of women (actually I work with an equally hysterical group now but that’s another story)

When you work in events, there is no 9 to 5 work day. There is work night and work weekend and work holidays. I think I had more meals with this group of ladies in the early 2000s than with my own family.

We worked together in small, connected cubicles. There was no privacy. We didn’t even pretend to not listen. You fought with your husband, boyfriend, mother? Everyone knew about it. You messed up a meeting, an event or a call? It was office news. This sounds like hell – but it wasn’t. These women weren’t going to use this info to take you down at work. They were going to use it as material to roast you at the next meal.

I’ve written about this before …https://wifemothereventplanner.com/2013/05/07/the-lunch-table

We were all so..ummm…unique.

Anyway – I’m at the airport again today. This time heading to Charlotte. I grabbed a quick bite before boarding and thought of this and had to share.

One of the ladies in the group covered her food when she was done. No, she didn’t just throw a napkin on the plate – she ceremoniously covered it with a napkin as if she were covering the dead.

It didn’t matter if it was take-out or gourmet. Once she was done, it was ready for burial. So here’s to you Babbas!

One day I’ll tell you about the Brit who ate only cherry tomatoes one week in the name of weight loss and “raped” our lunch with her eyes. It was sad and funny. Sad for her. Funny for us. Which was all that mattered.

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This ain’t no Oprah’s book club

Besides working and mothering and wife’ing – I try to have some fun. Just a little bit. Because I’m a frustrated English major deep inside, I’ve been talking to a few of my ‘hood moms about starting a book club. We talked a lot about starting it. For months we talked. But nothing happened. Then one of these marvy women suggested we join a club already in progress. One started and run by a group of responsible women who actually do what they say they want to do. Cool concept right?

So we dove in. Kind of. Work, kid stuff, and personal marital commitments (such as trying to see my husband for 5 minutes every night) got in the way. But I finally made a few meetings. And it was great.

The women who started this group are, ahem, seasoned. They’ve lived through divorce, remarriage, kids in college, retirement and multiple health issues.  There’s a mix of life stages – women with young kids, older kids, grandkids and no kids.  We rotate houses every month – this is my favorite part about the club, access to new peeks into how people live. If there was a club called just-go-see-how-other-people-live-every-month I’d so join it. I’d be the president of that club.  And by the way, I am not interested in judging. I’m just extremely curious. inquisitive. Nosey.

Admittedly, all the books we’ve picked have been a bit morose – but the conversations have been anything but!  Here’s a short list of what was covered in the last few meetings:

  • A second chance romance and love story by the host of the night that involved the Italian countryside and sangria
  • Did you know you can get a tummy tuck paid for by insurance if you partner it with a hysterectomy? True story.
  • No matter how Kosher you are, take a xanax if you need to. I don’t know what this means but there was a lot of time spent on it.
  • A field trip to a master bath that featured a bidet toilet seat cover combo (heated with a remote control).
  • Baby daddies, the Philadelphia public school system and wars started because of false religious beliefs.

We fit in some books too…

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Here’s a synopsis of what we thought –

  • 10 year olds shouldn’t get married.
  • spoiler alert – the pajamas were actually a concentration camp uniform
  • you don’t need no stinking man when you have a horse.

Can’t wait for the next meeting!

The Lunch Table

This picture is circa 2000.
I had just gotten a job at a Fortune 500 in NYC. After two years of being at home with my baby, I was back at work as an event planner and loving it. Technically I wasn’t a planner until a year later – in the beginning I was an admin.
An admin to an insane, crazy, brilliant woman who ran our group. The woman who gave me a 45 minute lecture on using colored folders instead of beige folders (the colors distracted her as she walked by my cube). The woman who called me from the Tarmac while boarding a flight to tell me she doesn’t like prop planes and why hadn’t I known that and I better fix it ASAP (I couldn’t because there were only prop planes flying to this part of Colorado. I had offered to book her a car the day before when I warned her about this but she hadn’t been listening, something about researching the perfect toilet – no joke).
But all those moments that would have driven me to quit turned into funny stories we shared. Funny war stories at the lunch table.
We worked really really hard. Almost 24/7. Weekends. Holidays. For no money. It was rough.
But every day, we had lunch together – the whole group. There are a few ladies missing from this pic but this was the core group. We also had a Swiss National and a Brit.
We bitched, we ranted, we raved, but most of all – we laughed.
This restaurant lunch was a rarity. Almost all lunches were either in the cafeteria or at a table on our floor.
No one from other groups ever joined – probably because they weren’t invited. This was anti-networking. This was cocooning.
The majority of the lunch was used to make fun of each other. And there was plenty of material. Marriages, weirdo eating habits, childhood traumas – all ripe for the picking. We left our egos in our cube. Belly laughter ensued.
Then we’d go back to working our asses off.
There were weddings, babies, break-ups, promotions, and more.
The crazy boss lady left. And shockingly, in hindsight, I would miss her. Aside from the batshit crazy episodes, I learned a lot from her. And from all those ladies.
It was and continues to be the best job I ever had.

(not sure why I have glasses on? contact lense malfunction that morning?)

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