In My Other Life

Remember when you'd stay home from school because you were sick (or had successfully frayed illness to avoid going to school) and upon returning to school you presented a note to your teacher signed by your mom explaining your absence? Consider this my note, unsigned by my mom, for why I've been absent from blogging for the past week.

I was working. It's true. I work. It's hard to conceive of how I'm squeeze a job into my rigorous schedule of "Gray's Anatomy" and personal training sessions but there you have it, I work, when push comes to shove that is. My official title is the Programming Director for the Center in Lesbian and Gay Studies in Religion and Ministry (CLGS) at PSR in Berkeley and the Co-Director of the Bay Area Coalition of Welcoming Congregations (CWC). And yes, that all fits on one business card which is no problem as long as you can read point 3 font size or your business card is produced on 8.5 x 11-inch card stock. My other unofficial, non-business-card-reflective job title is that of Audio-Visual Girl and Caterer and this weekend I wore my caterer's cap at a conference focused on transgender issues and religion that was attended by 60 transgender leaders in religion and in the nation. Preparing five separate meals (one reception, two breakfasts, two lunches, assorted snack breaks) required one week that included: 72 hard-boiled eggs, 50 grilled chicken breasts, 30 bags of garbage, 12 bags of ice, 8 gallons of tomato basil cream soup, 5 full carloads of food and equipment, 4 trips to Costco, 3 continuously emptying coffee pots, 2 pounds of triple-cream brie and 1 sore and weary Phatgirl. It was an incredible amount of work but the participants were all so appreciative of every little thing I did that it made it all a pleasure, however I learned a valuable numeric lesson in the process. Two 16-hour work days and one 50-year old Phatgirl are incompatible. You would think that after several months of core-training and cardio nearly every day of the week a few days of hard physical work wouldn't leave me feeling like a 4 ton truck had driven over my body but if you would have thought that, you'd be soooooo wrong. Whimper, whimper.