My church is having a Christmas Tea today.
My friend signed up to be a table hostess at this tea. She asked me to go, and I declined. I told her that I would need like 5 Xanax if I were to go. She said, “Really?” I said, “Well…. maybe I’d need 7. You do realize that’s like 14 doses right there, right?”
She got all of her table decorations and dishes ready to go several weeks ago, but she never heard anything about when she was supposed to go decorate her table — until last night at about 8 pm. She asked me to at least go with her to decorate her table.
I went, under protest.
I’m the kind of girl that you can ask to dig a hole to bury your pet hamster, Max. I even keep a shovel in my car. And, I wear boots every single day. So when poor Max died several days ago, my friend tried to dig a nice little hole with her hand trowel, all the while complaining about not having a real shovel.
I said, “I have a shovel in my car. Hang on.”
She unsuccessfully attempted to dig a hole with my shovel. I’m convinced that her attempt was unsuccessful simply because she was dressed inappropriately for the task. She was wearing dress pants. And pretty little flats. And a red wool coat.
After watching her pitiful attempts for a while, I said, “let me try.”
I took my denim-clad legs and my bebooted feet over and swiftly dug a nice little hole to bury poor Max in. And after his internment, I found a very nice gourd to use as a monument for Max’s grave.
That is the kind of girl I am.
I’m a get-er-done sorta girl.
So, when the friend in question asked me to help her decorate her table for the tea, I was like, “Um…. no?”
But I went. Because I am SUCH a good friend….
The tables that were already decorated were quite lovely. They all had something to set it apart. I especially liked the white and sparkly pink table. I also liked the brown one with glossy orange dishes. And the peacock themed one. And the cowboy themed one. And then there was the silver/lace/glass one which was absolutely gorgeous — but…. oh my goodness! It’s so pretty you almost don’t even want to touch it.
I liked the snowman themed tables a lot. They were pretty and festive — and touchable. And the centerpieces were small and simple enough that you could see the people across from you if you were to sit at those tables.
After checking out all the tables and making a pitiful attempt at decorating my friend’s snowman table, I took my denim-clad legs and bebooted feet and got myself out of there as fast as I could.
Because that’s way too much girly-girl for this girl.
As I was walking out the door, I reiterated to myself how glad I was that I’m not going to the tea.
I don’t look down on anybody who does. I’m glad there are people in the world who like those things. It’s just not… me. And that’s ok.
Somebody’s gotta dig the graves for the poor little hamsters of the world. It might as well be me.
And then I got to thinking about how completely…. not…. feminine I am. I don’t do makeup. I don’t do nails. I don’t do ornate decorating. I don’t even do my hair about 90% of the time.
And, if I had to sit in a room full of women and drink tea, I’d have to take 14 doses of Xanax. I like women — in moderation.
But, I sorta wish I could be a fly on the wall — because while I have no desire to participate in such a girlie event, I think it would be quite entertaining to watch.