Tuesday, August 20, 2013

He's gonna get me in a HEAP of trouble

Today was a Tuesday. With every Tuesday comes a staff meeting. I have discussed these before. I have discussed ad nauseam about my inability to sit still for very long and act like a normal, professional person. I do it, but it is a total challenge. Anyone who knows me well would laugh if they heard the words "professional" and "Jenny" in the same sentence. Not that I am not responsible and capable...just that I am kind of a big, spazzy, geeky goof. I own that. All that being said, I had been very well behaved and poised...well, as poised as one of the ballerina hippos in "Fantasia" can be, but I was. Talk began on the topic of the annual chili cookoff that benefits our beloved conference summer camp. Last year, my friend PJ and I had a table and did alright. We got the People's Choice Award for her Chicken chili and an honorable mention for some Pumpkin Cookies with Penuche icing. Not too shabby for a first time. A few years ago we attended the cookoff, sitting with friends. I think I have described this process and even this story in previous posts. Each table has a number and has cups with that number written on it. Samples are given out and then votes are cast by stuffing your favorite chili's jar full of cash. There have been several exotic chilis sampled through the years: white chili and green chili and caribbean chili and chuck wagon chili just to name a few. Some have awakened new favorites and some have put to rest curiosities about flavor combinations. And then there was #7. Chili #7 that tasted like a combination of cumin and tomato and beef and char and onion and potting soil and little bit of lawnmower clippings that had been composting for a few days. Apparently container numero uno had been a fan favorite, but the second batch had been left unattended for a bit too long. A little aside for a moment now. I have burnt and ruined my fair share of foods either by inattention, incorrectly reading the recipe or refusal to follow the recipe. Okay so back to the story. My friend and coworker, R, and I got tickled about the unique flavor and violently animated reactions of those who sampled #7. After a long, stressful day the reactions just became funnier and funnier. So flash forward to today's meeting...chili cookoff date set. My phone buzzes and the text "#7" comes on the screen. I look up and his face looks down. "I can't look at you", I text, "I will get kicked out of here". The joke that is so old now most people don't find it funny anymore. But we will be old and gray and senile and sitting on the bus on our way to the early bird special. We'll look at each other, trying to remember a name or reason for their familiar face. And then at the same time, we wil say, "7", laugh hysterically, fall off our Hoverrounds and get grumped at by our children. Oh, chili #7...I can't quit you.


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