All Hat, No Cattle: Dibbs

Okay, Ladies, the bitching is about to commence. Sorry.

I know I volunteered to chair this silent auction, and until last week, I honestly haven't minded. Asking for things isn't a strength of mine. This has been quite the character-building experience. I'm pretty good at it.

(BTW, thank you, Julep and Twinkle, for your kind donations. And Twinkle, thank you for the procurement road trip. I hope Twinklette enjoys the distillery.)

Here's the thing: We started this little venture in June. We had our first procurement meeting in September. At that point people pledged their items. It's February 2. Now is not the time to tell me, "I might be able to get it to you by Thursday." Or, "I don't know how much the gift certificate is worth." What? Call the damn place! I'm not the only one who knows how to use a phone.

You'll understand when you hear the worst culprit. She marked her name beside ten items. She promised to take care of those items. "Don't worry, Dibbs," she said. "These are under control." When I asked her about them, she sent a spreadsheet of her progress each time. Great. A spreadsheet don't buy Mama new shoes. Now she's between the Pro Bowl and the Super Bowl and I've got nothin'. The only blessing is the YWC won't listen to her talk about pillars, connectivity, or Zoomerangs, and she's no longer employed by KFC.

I just don't know how much more of this stress I can take. You should see my skin. But I can't talk anymore. I have to drive to the 'burbs and pick up an Arbonne basket. Toodles.