Oscar Again

(A repeat of a post from eight years ago. I did not watch the Oscars last evening. I never did before I met Mark, so I'm kind of reverting back to my pre-Mark way of doing things. Anyway, this is about one of his parties and what went into it. As much as I hated doing all that work, I do kind of miss Mark's parties. Of course it is easy to miss them now. Until I read one of these old posts.)

  

Monday, February 25, 2013

 

Oscar Party

Seven o'clock on Sunday morning, and I am up and out the door walking the dogs. A normal Sunday morning and I have the street to myself. Also on a normal Sunday, by the time I get back with Sasha and Chandler, I would be able to eat a bowl of cereal and go back to bed. Not this time. I walk in the door and there on the kitchen counter is a bowl with butter and eggs in it. Mark is getting ready to bake for his party. From the bedroom I hear Mark call out to me, "Clear off the dining room table, start cleaning the house, scrub the kitchen floor, dust the ceiling, wash the cats, and clean up whatever is left to clean up and then clean that up." It's Mark's Oscar Party Day. Bigger for him than almost any holiday except Christmas, and that's getting close to being eclipsed.

After cleaning all morning and schlepping crap around the house for Mark, it's time to eat lunch. Mark has been in the kitchen all morning cooking, baking, and generally creating aromas that are making me salivate. But those things are not for me, not for my lunch. Instead Mark runs out to get us a bag of our traditional party day snack, McDonald's. Thirty minutes later I'm in the bathroom taking my traditional McDonald's, party day snack, dump. Nothing does it better than a Big Mac, not even Ex-Lax.

Now it's nearing Oscar time, and we expect guests to arrive at any time. First, however, I have to re-clean the kitchen. In the last eleven hours Mark has turned my clean kitchen into a mess. There is cake batter on the walls, cheese on the floor, chocolate smeared across the back of the stove, and something very gooey on the ceiling. I can't even begin to imagine what it is or how it got there.

It is now after midnight. Twelve hours cleaning, five hours of watching the Oscars, and I am dead on my feet. I am also bloated with food because Mark went crazy again and made three times more than he needed. But it's all okay, and that's because some of our guests brought enough vodka to last me until at least April. As for the Oscars, it was very entertaining and I think Jack Nicholson won something. I might be wrong about that, but I do remember seeing him at some point.