The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: anxiety

Xanax makes me a better blogger

I’m cashing in on sensationalist headlines In The Powder Room today, musing about all the things I could/should/would do to be a better blogger. Spoiler alert: drugs.

Because…Judy Collins songs.

And: “Top Blogger” gladiator-style blood baths.

Plus: FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). Dear sweet Jesus in a viral video…feelings are hard!

Also, PIN-FRIENDLY GRAPHICS! 

Xanax Makes Me a Better Blogger by Leslie The Bearded Iris In The Powder Room

So basically, whether you’re a blogger, know and love a blogger, or are so sick of bloggers you want to shove them all into a wood chipper and spray your snow covered lawn with their bloody pulp…this post is for you. I feel you, Dawg. I feel you long and hard.

With love and a paper bag over my head to deal with the anxiety (and haircut),
Leslie

The results are in…

Well I know you are all on the edge of your seats waiting to hear about my Pampered Chef par-tay last Saturday!

The reason this was such a big deal is that I don’t entertain very often. I’ll be honest with you, it’s because I have an inferiority complex. Most of the time, I feel like a laminate counter top girl living in a granite counter top world. Or as my husband lovingly says after he witnesses me try on the 14th outfit, “It’s tough being you, isn’t it.”

Long story short, I rarely ever get my shit together enough to entertain.

So, the thought of hosting a Pampered Chef party was daunting.

But I sucked it up and I did it. And we had a great time! Well, I think we did. I was actually too tired from cleaning until my fingers bled to fully enjoy it. But the food and the company were excellent, I must say, even if the hostess {me} was not.

I learned a few things about life in general during the process that are worth sharing:

For starters, never have a party over spring break. You’ll get a poor turn out. Duh.

Secondly, the tone you set with your invitation is really important. Know your audience! I emailed out two different invitations, and the one that led to the best attendance was the one I sent to my closest friends. Maybe they came because they are my good friends. But maybe they came because their invitation started with the phrase “Please… save me from myself.” These gals rose to the occasion and supported their anxiety-ridden friend in need. These are the kind of friends you cherish for life. Anne, Kathy, Terri – thank you.

The invite that wasn’t so well received? That would be the one I sent to the ladies I know in my neighborhood. It started like this:

My sister-in-law Teresa is a brand new Pampered Chef consultant and I promised her I’d help her get started by hosting a party. I’m trying to assemble a group of the nicest and most fun people I know to help her practice her schtick! Unfortunately, none of them can come, so I thought I’d ask you.
Kidding.
Seriously, want some free food?
Or perhaps you just want to see how ugly my kitchen cabinets are so you can feel better about your own home?
Either way, I’m cool with it. I’m just looking for a good time. And some new recipes and kitchen gadgets wouldn’t hurt.

 

I don’t need to tell you that this invitation went over like a blender full of three-day-old roadkill.

Of the 16 neighbors I sent it to, only one came. That’s a success rate of 6%. Sure, it was spring break and many of those gals were out of town. But also, apparently not everyone gets my humor. Who knew?

The ONE person from my neighborhood who did take the bait, as shitty as that bait was? Turns out that gal is a real peach, bless her heart. I already knew that actually, but she sealed the deal for me when she showed up at my house carrying this:

"I brought you a hostess gift!"

One, the “hostess gift” is a dying art. Who does that anymore? Especially to a purchasing party where the guest is kinda expected to spend money! But two, a hostess gift that looks like a specimen jar of urine? I love this girl.

Don’t worry. It’s not urine. It’s actually real extra virgin olive oil that someone in her family exported from an olive orchard in Tuscany!  I wish you could smell it… pure HEAVEN. I drizzled some of it over a salad this weekend and it practically made me weep with joy, it was that good. What an incredibly thoughtful and generous gift. Thank you, Lisa!

I also learned some fabulous new ways to respectfully decline a shitty invitation…

For instance, from my good friend Nora Vagina:

I hate these almost as much as I hate baby showers! I don’t understand housewares or babies, so it’s all kind of lost on me.  So I think I will respectively decline.  You are a good wife and sis-in-law and God will reward you.

I just applaud her honesty, don’t you? And bonus points for ending with a blessing. She’s a classy broad all around, that one. And believe you-me, it takes one to know one, fuckin’-A.

Or how about this decline from one of my other friends, Yolanda:

Or you can just stab me in the eye.

Again, how can you not feel anything but admiration for someone who just tells it like she sees it? Respect, girl.

One more decline that I enjoyed:

Love to. Can’t! But thank you for the invitation.

Simple. Succinct. Effective. Well done!

I also learned that one should never save the most critical cleaning tasks for the day of the party.

I was waiting to do the powder room right before people arrived because, hello, I have two little boys and a hairy-ass husband… things don’t stay clean for long around here. In fact, next time I redecorate, I’m just going to paint my powder room walls yellow and choose a pube-patterned floor tile.

Murphy’s Law, however, guarantees that whatever you save for the last minute will inevitably have to be added to the “Shit I Didn’t Get Done” list.

Thus, I have learned that I should create a prioritized cleaning schedule before a party, and that means things like the powder room take precedence over things like the car and the freezer. Yeah… my freezer was spotless and opened exactly ZERO point ZERO times during the party, but my guests were undoubtedly holding their noses while they used my hairy, pee-sprayed powder room. Good times.

And lastly, I learned to listen to my friends. Margo at Joyful Homemaking suggested I host the party in my newly clean van! Brilliant! And OneShabbyChick advised that I “Have a blast and don’t sweat the tumbleweeds!” What a wise (and stylish) woman! I mean really, true friends seem to like me anyway… stinky powder room, laminate counter tops, quirky humor, and all. And as for the rest, who cares? Let’s all worry less, and party more.

By the way, my sis in law, Teresa did a wonderful job. Not only is she down to earth, but she’s also just as cute as can be and fun to boot. I particularly enjoyed her vast product knowledge and masterful demonstration of the Veggie Wedger, which is almost as fun to use as it is to say. If you live in the northern suburbs of Atlanta and are in the market for some Pampered Chef fabulousness, email me and I’ll hook you up.

Thanks for stopping by!

-Iris

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