Photos from Saturday’s car show: don’t know if this Gallery plugin still works…
Okay, really it was a fun day but also it was a grueling one; I was scheduled to switch back and forth on tasks and I just couldn’t do it because the other task was much more in the sun. So I made change and tried not to think of how my brain was slowly frying. At one point I misplaced an important list and totally forgot that I’d put it away – no one was more surprised than me when I got home, after figuring out an agreement without the all-important list, and found the damn thing in a box of tchotchkes. On the one hand, I couldn’t run around and make connections with the photographer from the local neighborhood paper, and on the other when I did run around taking pictures of my own, I dropped flash cards and thumb drives from my open photo-bag all over the site.
Also, I was really frustrated that the two measly raffle items that I’d finally gotten as donations (after fretting about it for weeks) got left at home, DAMMIT. And the crap that I gathered for the “goodie bags” got thrown out by mistake, probably by the cleaning service, dammit DAMMIT. However, the goodie bags had plenty of goodies in them; the problem was that we had 50 goodie bags and only 34 registrants for the big “fundraiser.”
I’m not sure why, but the turnout was not good. There was plenty of publicity via the car-club sites I posted on 2 weeks prior, after realizing that the show organizer hadn’t done anything about putting the event up online anywhere. I got dozens of hits, and 30 people looked at the show registration form I linked to the church website, and blah-de-blah.
Perhaps in the interests of publicity we women of the church should have stripped to the buff when the Pioneer Press photog was up on the fire truck lift platform, and run around directly below him, going “woogedah! woogedah! Woo woo woo!”
That would get us some ink for sure.
If I sound frustrated, it’s because I am. A lot of people, starting with Colleen and Katie and Cherry, worked really, really hard. Some of the rest of us also worked hard, although I can’t say I did much more than post stuff and witter about how I could never get stuff done during work, or after work, or on the weekend. And it’s all supposed to have been a fundraiser because we’re struggling to keep it together, and yet again it was pretty much a disappointment.
Well, I’ve got more procrastinating to do tomorrow, I’d better get started on it right away.
And yet, it was really cool. The cars were neat. It was great when the fire trucks rolled in. The music was… better in the afternoon. The morning’s selections were along the lines of “Crying in the Chapel” and other slightly embarassing and over-the-top examples of how not to do church (rock). But we threw away food, we had trophies left over because there were whole classes of cars that weren’t represented that had been expected, and the overall winner left the site with the rest of his club before the final trophy was announced. That part was weird.
Another weird thing was the neighbor lady who came over and cleaned me out of change. I thought she was one of the PT Cruiser Club members, but actually she was just setting herself up with change for the day for her garage sale. We had gone to all the neighbors and given them flyers suggesting they have garage sales, and talked up how the wives of the car guys would go shopping… then hardly anyone went shopping. Last year, apparently, there were tons of ladies itching to go shopping, but not this year.
And this neighbor… well, she had this walk, see. No matter where she went, all eyes followed that walk. It came with its own soundtrack: the “bum-ba-da-bum” music from Star Trek’s “A Piece Of The Action,” when the gun moll would traipse over from JoJo Krako’s desk and massage Kirk’s shoulders, then traipse back.
I had never seen a woman traipse so successfully over uneven, weedy dry grass in flat leather flip-flops. I thought that to traipse one needed the shoes of the pointy-toed fantasticness and a runway uncluttered by models.
Come to think of it, she moved exactly like a cruiser dragging the Strip, checking out and being checked out. Maybe we should have given her that leftover trophy.
