The destruction has started again*, this time with the tearing up of the kitchen/dining room floor, right down to the floorboards.

It’s fun. 🙂

The one thing I have definitely learned with this house, or let’s say has been confirmed (since I suspected as much before), is that I am my father’s daughter. I love taking things apart. I got a circular saw for Christmas and my first thought was: “What can I cut with this?” It turns out that I can use it to take up my floor, although I am just a little wary of that since I don’t want to cut into the floorboards below. But my father ensures that it will work, I just need to set the cut gaurd to the correct height. Easy as pie.

The one thing my father has on me is that he actually seems to finish some of his projects (unlike: my bathroom which is still unfinished although I did get the new toilet in; the computer room, which still has two strips of wallpaper to go; the kitchen cupboards, which are half primed; the patio, which never got beyond a few random patio stones laid right on top of the grass …)

*The chairs are in the middle of the floor to prevent me from banging my head on the light hanging from the ceiling (which I did twice before I finally put the chairs there). I’ve broken lights under similar circumstances.

My boyfriend and I agreed to go to a church dinner last night (you do these kinds of things for your mother, in this case, his) after confirming that there would be enough for me to eat (i.e. the meal wouldn’t be totally centred around meat). We were told it was potluck-style, so there would be a few different kinds of vegetables as well as a few salads, which suited me just fine given all the “bad” things I’ve been eating over the last month or so. He hadn’t been to one of these dinners in a few years, so he couldn’t remember exactly what would be involved but we both assumed it would involve food, some mingling (other members of my boyfriend’s family were also coming, namely his brother, future sister-in-law, and his niece and her family) and possibly some singing.

As details of the event surfaced, I began to worry a bit. His brother was no longer coming (and hence his future sister-in-law was also not expected to make an appearance). The church was actually a renovated barn. “Dinner” actually started at 2:00. But we had made a promise and we intended to keep it.

We arrived and met his mother and neice. The barn had actually undergone a huge renovation over the last year and was really quite nice. People were handing out Christmas cards and making the rounds to say hello. There were three tables of desserts and four hot food containers already on the buffet table with room for more. Nobody stared at us as if they knew we were the outsiders that we were. We took our seats and waited for the introductions by the pastor, after which tables would be called up and we would eat dinner. My boyfriend and I had skipped out on having lunch, so we (or at least I) hoped that we wouldn’t be the very last table to be called.

Luckily, we were actually the second table to be called so we made our way to the buffet room only to find out that no additional hot food containers had joined the original four, and of the original four, two contained roast beef and gravy. There were no salads except for the coleslaw on the table. I figured I could pile up on mashed potatos and carrots and make it through. The line was moving quickly and a small serving of mashed potatos was dropped on my plate. I politely asked for a larger serving (“canIpleasehaveabitmoreIdontactuallyeatmeat”) and was given a small quantity more. I understand, we were near the beginning and they wanted to make sure they had enough for everyone. I didn’t bother asking for more carrots, just took the serving they gave me, then stepped out of line and waited for my boyfriend behind me to get his meat and gravy. We walked back to the table and I assured him that I would be fine for the time being but maybe we could stop for food on the way home. With three tables full of desserts, I thought I could last for a few hours. Plus there was the coleslaw and buns on the table. I ate my mashed potatos and carrots and had a buttered bun. I had some coleslaw and another buttered bun. I had some more coleslaw. I wished I had had lunch. All the tables were finally served and we readied ourselves for dessert.

First there was some singing (not group singing, but duets, etc). Then a puppet show. Then a play. At this point we managed to find a program for the evening and discovered that desserts were not being scheduled for almost another three hours. My stomach was already voicing it’s displeasure at the food tease that I had subjected it to. We stayed for some gift presentations, and speeches, then decided to leave. My boyfriend’s mother insisted that we take some dessert and we declined, since we didn’t really think it was fair to others. But she insisted (she really wanted us to try the cake she had made) and we agreed, although we felt a little bad about it. We made our way out of the dining area and towards the buffet room.

As we walked towards the plates, a little boy (about 8 or 9 I would guess) wrapped his arms around the plates and insisted that it was not dessert time yet, we couldn’t have dessert yet. My boyfriend’s mother insisted that it was okay, because we had to leave early. He insisted that it was not dessert time yet. She insisted that it was okay. He finally relented and we got a plate each. At this point I felt a little strange and decided to just have a piece of the cake that my boyfriend’s mother had made since she had insisted. Although the rest of the dessert sure did look good. I was trying to maneuver the spatula to get the cake out of the pan when I heard a somewhat snotty voice from behind us:

“Has the pastor cleared those two for dessert?!?”

It was the straw that broke me, I admit. I was starving, to the point of feeling nausea. I’m not a horribly religious person and had sat through two hours of very religious church programming because I like my boyfriend’s mother and it was important to her that we be there. But I was not five and I did not need to be scolded for taking a single piece of cake, especially since there were three tables full of desserts! I grabbed the cake, grabbed a few cookies and a square and grabbed my coat and we made our goodbyes We scarfed down the desserts as soon as we got in the car and stopped on our way home to get food.

And we decided that next year we would take his mother out for dinner at one of her favourite restaurants.

The funny thing is, I have since discovered that we were actually cleared to have dessert. My boyfriend’s mother had asked the pastor.