Pizza Drama

I knew I should not have done it. The minute I did, I felt a pang of regret. I had volunteered to take over a position within the PAC. (Parent Advisory Council). I had my hand raised, and suddenly I was given the job. The job of Hot Lunch coordinator.

It was a job I felt confident enough to do. Seriously, how hard is it to make up monthly menus, add up the orders on a spreadsheet, contact our Vendors, and place the orders? I figured it would take just a few hours, my time.Then, on any given Monday or Wednesday 150 kids or so would have a hot meal. There were other people in charge of buying drinks and fruit, and organizing volunteers to help serve the food from the school’s kitchen, and as long as I remembered to specify delivery times to our vendors everything should be fine. There are a core of dedicated women who show up precisely at 11:30 am on Hot Lunch days, and within 30 minutes, most, if not all hot lunch has been served to the correct class, desk, and student. It is a well oiled machine. Rather impressive if it runs smoothly.

And it has, relatively speaking. I had a few phone calls about orders being misplaced, (according to the past co-ordinator , not unusual). There was a delivery mix up where the milk was delivered too early, and some students helped themselves, making us short on hot lunch day. Then the tacos arrived coolish- I say this loosely, because I wasn’t there. One of the volunteers absolutely freaked and went on about how if the health authorities happen to show up that we’d be shut down because they were not the right serving temperature.

I almost laughed out loud as I watched her face turn red with fury. I could not tell if she was upset about that, or the fact that the Vendor forgot the hot sauce. The health inspector has yet to show up, and didn’t on that day. Besides, the tacos were eaten without much ado. Still, it was enough drama for one Monday.

Our school has hot lunch twice a week. Mondays, and Wednesdays. On Wednesdays we always serve pizza. Three kinds: Ham and Pineapple, Pepperoni, and Veggie. It comes with a drink and some fruit. On Mondays it varies, Lasagna, Sub sandwiches, tacos and hot dogs. Our hot lunch program is a fund raiser for our school. It has in the past generated quite a bit of money. But since the new legislation for Food in BC Schools, there have been weeks where it is more like providing a service. Adhering to these new guidelines is not optional, and we do our best. It was the job of the previous coordinator to figure out what vendors were willing to work with us within the guidelines, and still make money for the school. It came down to the choices that were offered on our menu. Pizza, for example became a whole wheat crust, and toppings. The serving size is one slice, smaller than what we used to serve, and therefore we’ve added some fruit and a yogurt tube to round off the meal. It’s not the greatest according to some kids, but within the guidelines, it works.

For most of the kids and the parents, they enjoy hot lunch. The kids enjoy a break from the same old sandwiches, and the parents have a break from making lunches. I have often received notes on the bottom or an order form from a parent or two: Thanks for making mornings a little less hectic, or Thank you for all you do. They are notes of appreciation which make me thankful I put up my hand and took on this job.

While compiling the orders for December I came across a note scrawled across the bottom of a form, and I knew once again that not everyone was pleased. It read:

[My Daughter ] used to enjoy the pizza but she finds it is only one piece and is usually cold by the time she gets it. So she doesn’t want it anymore. Just thought you’d like to feel bad. Thanks for the service!

On behalf of myself and the other dedicated volunteers: Get your hand up. Get your ass

to the school at 11:30 and help out. We will not feel bad for one second, so suck it up Princess!

About Thanksgiving

With the Thanksgiving in the US happening next week, it made me think of our Thanksgiving this year. Thanksgiving makes me think of the Holly Hunter movie “Home For the Holidays” I love that movie. It reminds me of my family, or rather my Mom’s family, the dysfunction of it. And it makes me laugh, and just a little bit sad. Yes, they know how to part-ay, Especially when there’s wine. Come to think of it, they manage to have mall security called when there is no alcohol involved. And still it makes me glad to know that I have never sat down to a thanksgiving Turkey with the likes of any of them.

I realize I could be taken out just for writing that, my Mom has been known to lurk here and one of my aunts. But I’m willing to take the risk. It’s family drama. Everyone who has a family, and heads home for that Turkey dinner knows , that something will play out somewhere between the saying of grace, and the clearing of the table. It’s almost inevitable. And all you can do is laugh or keep quiet.

Even with Carpenter’s family the drama is there. We decided to spend the long weekend up north this year. Papa had his second hip replacement in September, and needed a few things done around the farmyard. We thought we’d give him a hand. We spent time with Ann, Ann’s daughter Andi, and her fiancé Grouse. I have to call him that cuz he’d never shot anything until that weekend. Carpenter and I went for a drive through the back roads, he was hunting, or that’s what he called it, I was no help of course, I slammed the truck door, and talked in anything but a whisper. It was nice watching the sunset, and we happened to see a few mulies. Does, to be precise. And I was thankful that they weren’t bucks. Then I wouldn’t have to watch the killing /cleaning.

We arrived back when dinner was done. Poor Ann was certain the stove wouldn’t cook the turkey. They’ve been having problems with the oven. It was probably a good thing we were an hour late.

Carpenter’s brother, his girlfriend, Tina, and her kids were there. The conversation flowed easily across the table, as long as we nodded blindly and somewhat ignored Wayne, Carpenter’s brother. I swear everything coming out of that guy’s mouth was nothing short of pure Bullshit. I could not believe that Tina, could have put up with it all this long. Every once in a while Papa would interject with his opinion, and Wayne would roll his eyes, ignore him. He asked politely what we were up to, and as Carpenter explained our plans, his eyes would glaze over and rebuke us with a plan of his own, trying to engage us in a classic game of one-upping. When we refused to play, he turned to our girls and said, “ Sophie has her own horse.”

It took me taking a deep breath and counting to ten to refrain from saying “WTF, Are you still in high School?”

The meal however, was stellar. The stuffing and gravy fantastic, and my mouth watered as I filled the girls’ plates and my own. I had hoped that Carpenter would crack the bottle of wine we brought. It would have made the meal fantastic. Unfortunately, it would take more than a glass of wine for me to handle what was coming next.

I watched the girls sitting at their table, complimented Ann on the wonderful meal, when I realized Seven, the old yellow lab, was under the table, inches from my feet. I tried ignoring him as I ate my food. Tina, was finished, complemented Ann on the food. She then remarked that she ate it all except for the piece of gristle on her plate.

“Do you mind if I feed it to Seven?” she asked.

“No, of course not go ahead.” Ann replied.

At this point I thought Tina would have taken her plate from the table, and scraped the remnants into the dog dish, to later be given to Seven.

I was wrong. She called to Seven and scooped up the greasy gristle from her plate into her fingers and shoved them under the table.

Seven, awaking to the call of his name, rose to his feet and stretched. His butt now in line with me, he let one rip.

I gagged on my mouthful of food and could not rise from my chair fast enough. I ran to the kitchen and found the Mike’s hard Lemonade in the fridge. I opened it and gulped it back. I stood there long enough to regain my composure. And cracked open another.

I found my way back to the table and asked Andi to encourage Seven out form under the table. I could not bring myself to finish my food. I turned to Carpenter and said, “You’re driving right?”

When he nodded, I helped myself to a very strong Rum and coke.

It was Thanksgiving, a time when we gather around the table the people that we love but don’t spend much time with. We toss a little dysfunction in the mix and see what happens. For me, I always end up with a blog worthy story. It’s inevitable. So I laugh, I say nothing, and I do what Holly Hunter’s character says, “Let’s just go out there and stuff ourselves.”

Yum.