One hot party

Rita & I were in Michigan this past weekend for a 40th birthday party. That party was positively….incendiary. And while it was one HOT party, I mean incendiary in terms of…”Did you see Ruth catch her hair on fire last night?”

First of all, no birthday candles were harmed in the making of this blog. Second of all, as far as hair burns go – it really was pretty minor. I’ve done worse myself [granted…I was five years old, but the key thing to remember is it all grows back.] Most importantly, Ruth was laughing about it, so I feel like I can too [plus I don’t know her and I hope no one tells her about this blog]. Out of the experience, I came away with some specific advice that we all could benefit from:

First: For those of you thinking of hosting a party in your home, I recommend that you not ensconce the fireplace mantle in a row of beautiful [but apparently dangerous] burning candles. Either that or you only invite really tall, really short or really bald party goers. Who knew there was a surprising risk that someone will lean their head back, perhaps to get the perfect angle on a picture, and dunk their hair into open flame like they were at the apple-bob at the county fair?

Second: It turns out that when the back of your head catches fire, you may be the last to know. Therefore, friends who begin beating you about the [admittedly on fire] head should probably explain themselves first. Otherwise, the enflamed guest believes herself to be under random attack, which only leads to other, completely unrelated, issues [“I told you if you ever hit me again you crazy bitch…”]
Third: I don’t care how insensitive it was, “the Ruth, the Ruth, the Ruth is on fire” was simply the best line of the night [after it was extinguished, of course!]

My final piece of advice? If you accidentally set your hair on fire at a party [and who hasn’t?] in addition to perhaps paying more attention to your surroundings, you should probably wait until morning [when slightly fewer cocktails have been consumed] to begin cutting out the damage. Turns out that scissors can do WAY more damage than flames.

R I P

Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while….I’ve been in mourning since I quit working. Turns out it’s not the hustle or the bustle that I miss…not the job…or the people – it’s the to-do list.

Those of you who are “listers” know what I’m talking about. When I was working, I had an elaborate listing [and re-listing] system that kept everything on a tightly wound schedule [air traffic control for the counting of beans]. That’s right, I can’t remember to pack my power cord half the time, but I can keep track of what a dozen direct reports are doing every hour of the day…because it is written on a little yellow notecard…in black ink…in size 3 font…prioritized as an A, B or C (in pencil). [I’m revealing too much, aren’t I?]

I’ve tried to keep the to-do list feeling going even while I’m not working, but it just isn’t the same. I only have 11 things on the list right now and one of them is “wish my brother happy birthday”. First of all, his birthday is still two days away. Second of all, it’s the same day as mine…do I really need to write it down to remember it? [but I can’t cross it off if I don’t write it down!].

Rita was working on the plane ride home Monday and I think I was actually getting to-do list envy. There she was, adding item after item, in neat little hand writing.  Dammit. I took out my own to-do list and wrote down “buy black pens”.

Rita keeps trying to give me a to-do list for the house, but me being home not only doesn’t result in anything getting crossed OFF the list, it actually makes the list longer. [“get broken coffee maker fixed; replant tomato plants that McC told the gardener to pull out”].

Oh well, I’ve got to run now or else I won't be able to cross off "Watch World Cup Soccer" from my to-do list.