Chickens in the Basement

I love to write and I love to laugh. When I write, I get to the point quick. My stories would fit on the back of a postcard. They usually make me chuckle. And you know what they say, "It's all about me!"

Friday, July 31, 2009

Volunteer: Band Mom or Fire Department?

For the last week, I have been working with my volunteer-soul-mate, Rene. She and I were responsible for feeding lunch to the Marching Band staff every day for a week and dinner to the staff and 127 students three out of the five nights. The camp ran from 9 am to 9 pm, so the dinners had to be nourishing, something the kids liked, and not too heavy as to cause nausea during nighttime marching. Rene and I worked so well together, right down to getting mean-hungry at the same time. We saved a ton of money for the marching band. We don't know of any complaints except for not having enough leftover cheese pizza for vegetarians on Chick-fil-A night. We will plan better for this next year.

With only lunch to serve today, I got home around 2:00. Since I have been living at the school most of the hours this week, my home and family have been neglected. I shared my lunch with Rick and put on hummingbird food (water and sugar) to boil so I could refill the empty feeders so the hummingbirds will stop staring at me through the window like I am responsible for all bad things in the world.

Finally, I had free time to sit down and catch up on e-mails. The marching band has its first fundraiser, so I signed up for my very own H card. Now, I can get discounts all over town. Since I needed my credit card number to finish the order, I headed to my car for my wallet. In the kitchen, a black cloud of smoke and a column coming from the stove made me change my plans. That damn hummingbird food had been boiling so long it was now solid and black and the wood spoon used to stir it was permanently affixed and only a handle. Simultaneously, the alarm began to sound and I grabbed the pot from the stove to take outside. Since there was no liquid left, nothing sloshed out on me!

Open the doors. Find the phone number to the alarm company. Turn on the fans. Open the windows. How do I turn off the fire alarm? Where is that damn phone number? Call 911 and tell them to stop the firetrucks. Finally, the alarm company called. Please cancel the alarm. They'll try. Shoot! I already hear the firetrucks. Call Neighbor Terri so she'll know we are alright. Meet the firemen at the end of the driveway so they won't have to maneuver the driveway AGAIN when it really isn't necessary! Three firemen in full regalia meet me in the driveway. Really, we don't need the axes. They want to see the house. Thank God Jane came yesterday and cleaned. The house just smells bad. No, really we are okay, I just don't need to have possession of a stove. Would ya'll like to take it with you? Assured that all is okay, I walked the firemen back to the front porch. Apologies! Apologies! Is that Neighbor Terri at the gate taking photos?

If the Fire Department visits your house more than once in a year, do they send you a bill? I don't ask in case it gives them ideas they haven't already thought of. Does it help that we dropped off leftover burgers and dogs at the Fire Department after we fed the kids dinner last night (I didn't cook them)? Can you believe Rene and I have signed up to feed the band again next year and they're going to let us? We don't have access to a stove at the school, so I think we are pretty safe. Is that a hummingbird staring at me again?

NOTE: If Terri's photos aren't too incriminating, I'll publish them when she sends them.

PS I guess it would be worse if it was our dinner I burnt instead of hummingbird food.


Kate Spike and Her KatS said...

The most important question about all this I have it . . . were the firemen cute?

Chickens in the Basement said...

There's nothing cuter than 3 YOUNG guys wearing hardhats, carrying axes, and prepared to haul you out of the fire over their shoulders. I was so embarrassed I had a hard time looking them in the eye!