The facility that hosts this show every year (I've done the decor three times now and already booked for next year), is a stunning performing arts center with 3 story glass windows across the front. They help create an atrium effect for the lobby. HOWEVER, that's 3 stories of western sun exposure from early afternoon until that sun sets~and it makes for a VERY warm though be it, a beautiful lobby. Trust me, there is no escape from the sun or the heat, either, unless you duck into one of the side wings or hang out in the restroom. You could probably even fry an egg on the lovely floor, not something I plan to try any time soon!
Heat! Glaring, toasty, relentless heat warms up those 3 story panes of glass and then slowly sinks in the sky, mocking every one of the visitors as they all seek out relief and shade.
Flowers submit their fresh perkiness to wilting distress very quickly. I'm so glad that I keep a large collection of assorted silk flowers. But, it sure is nice to have the fresh ones.
Much to my despair and sanity, the 3 to 4 weeks prior to this event, I had a wonderful case of poison ivy. Only a few of those dastardly spots actually appeared on my skin. The rest of them decided that they would hang out in my eyes, ears, nose and just under the surface of my skin. They called it a "systemic" reaction! I was totally an itch-fest! Adding insult to injury, I ended up with hives as well as the poison ivy and was pretty much going crazy from both. Finally caved in and went to the doctor which netted me 3 weeks worth of double strength steroids. Now, I am normally a Type A personality, the Energizer Bunny, Ricochet Rabbit. You get the point. I am not ever still, and I go until I drop. So, you add that to the double strength steroids, well, I was pretty much a whirling dervish. One evening, we were sitting outside on the back of the truck. I guess my behavior was beyond bananas and my husband reached over and touched my leg and told me to "STOP IT"! My cup runneth over with frenzy and blabbering. Steroids, good stuff for the poison ivy, bad stuff for the rest of me, and apparently, anyone around me.
As if hyper-ness wasn't bad enough, there is one other really annoying side effect to the steroids. Seems like they make your blood boil and mercy, I can't even begin to describe the hot flashes that follow. Time released agony. Every 2 to 3 hours, I would turn beet red and feel like I needed to put one arm out as the handle and the other as the spout. I was a human tea kettle. At home is one thing, out in public is entirely another. At my age, hot flashes make the occasional appearance anyway, but they were child's play compared to the searing heat and the waterfalls that were happening now. Three ingredients all added up that made being in public very uncomfortable - Type A, Steroids and Hot Flashes. I was quite the conversation piece.
There is no way, absolutely no way, that you can disguise a hot flash. You start off fanning yourself while everyone else around you seems to be cool and comfortable. Then, with little warning, here comes that first trickle slowly rolling down the back of your neck. You feel beads meandering around on your scalp, and sure enough, your forehead joins the party, and next thing you know, the Niagara falls (not one, but both) decide to come flowing down from absolutely every square inch of you from the neck up! OMG! Very lady like! Not! People stare. They totally know what's going on and politely keep their discovery to themselves, that is, until they walk away. I would just about bet that when they are far away from earshot, and away from your drenched misery, there are muffled giggles at your expense and you become the topic of conversation! "Bless your heart!" It's totally a Southern thing, you know. A polite way of saying "you poor fool, better you than me). Bless your heart is right up there with y'all and mom'n'em and grits, all of which are part of my southern transplant life now, and I love them all!
Back-tracking a little, if you've read my recent blog, then you know that I have become a gardener. I love it, I work in the garden every single day. It's become a passion. Mornings are cooler, evenings are mosquito laden but, no matter what time of day, I get soaking wet when I'm out there playing in the dirt again. But, I still love it, and out there, it's just me! Working out in the garden and experiencing this drenching event, is one thing. Being in public and with little to do to hide and justify the insane torrents of salty liquid flowing down my forehead and into my eyes, is entirely another.
TV advertises all sorts of "cooling" aids. The models wearing them all look so cool, calm and unaffected as they portray someone that is overheated. Oh, give me a break! Don't even think about those cute little neck wraps with the magic beads. You know the ones I'm talking about. You soak them in cold water and tie the drippy thing around your neck. They work just fine unless you're already at boiling point and then they just heat up and turn into steam!
Back to the art show. The first 2 hours, I was there working solo. I unloaded the car, organized everything, sorted the fabric, put the chuppah together, unboxed the fresh flowers and put them in buckets of ice water (which I toted 2 gallons at a time from the kitchen in the facility). I was working hard, not stopping for anything, because I had a lot to get done and no help arriving until after 2:00. I had to hustle! And then, oh me oh my, then, the gusher started. I was stooped down and leaning over a box full of silk flowers when it sneaked up on me. First, it was 1 timid little drop, ever so determined, and it slowly rolled down the back of my neck. Gave me a little shiver, but it didn't sway me from my task. Then, it decided WITHOUT consulting with me, that it was going to invite its friends to join in. First the forehead, then my head, and at that point, it was all water over the dam, literally! There was so much moisture taking advantage of my crouched position, that looking through the lenses on my glasses was a little like wearing a diving mask, but with the water on the inside! Oh my stars, not now! Bad Prednisone, bad, bad, bad! No escaping it, it was on me like mosquitoes on a humid night!
I tried the wet towel on the neck thing. I even went into the kitchen and soaked my cute little bead filled neck wraps. First one, then the other. I switched them back and forth from my neck and re-soaked them. Futile effort. Before I knew it, I looked like someone had held a garden hose over my head or I had run through the sprinkler and I was soaked from the top my head to the tips of my toes. As long as no one was in there to see this spectacle, I figured I was able to dodge the embarrassment and scrutiny. Doesn't it just figure that my solitude was short lived and soon, there were 2, 5, then 10 people milling around and every single one of them came up to greet me. Everyone of them, pretty well, focused on my forehead and the wet towel slung around my neck. I knew what they were looking at, those dang-blasted beads of water rolling down my face. I wanted to find an air conditioned hole to burrow into and hide until this time released torture ended. A couple asked if I was okay...could they get me some cold water, did I need to sit down, and my one word response was simply "Prednisone"! I guess I gave them all something to kibitz about after they retreated to their own tasks.
Remember, ladies, "ladies don't sweat, they don't perspire, they glisten. I've got news for who ever came up with that rule! SWEAT HAPPENS...glisten nothing...when you lose 5 pounds in an hour and feel like you're standing in the pouring rain, that "ain't" glistening! THAT'S good old, just ran the 100 yard dash in 120 degrees weather, clothes soaked, hair plastered to your head, SWEAT - in any language! Seriously! Admit it, sweat happens...to all of us!
Well, help arrived, we finished and I recovered. We headed to dinner, and neatly tucked into my back pack, was a complete change of clothes. Quite literally, I was praying that there was no one else in that restroom at the restaurant. I'd already suffered through a round of steroid revenge at the center. I sure didn't want to have to explain a total wardrobe change in the restroom with clothes flying in every direction. I successfully achieved my fresh attired look and I joined my friend for dinner. It's always a little funny when you get "that" look from other people when I appear in my new wardrobe. Puzzled expressions on their faces, I kind of figured they were questioning if those were the same clothes I had on when I walked in the door. Messing with their sanity! I bet several of you have done this before. I won't tell. Our secret!
Dinner was wonderful, I was feeling fat and sassy, all made even better by my DRY wardrobe, but I knew that the work wasn't over, The event was ending and there was work still to be done. All of that stuff had to be taken down, boxed and the car reloaded. Heavy sigh. Niagara, here we go again! So, glisten, seriously! Perspire, nope. Sweat, you betcha. After all, the term "sweat equity" wouldn't exactly sound the same if you called it glistening proactive labor!
The hubs is outside mowing the lawn. He feels my pain, wasted shower, soaked clothes and salt crusted face. As for me, I'm thinking a big glass of ice water and sitting under the ceiling fan in the den sounds pretty good! Have a good night, y'all!
Cool, comfy and chillaxing,
K
