This bodes not well.

I like to do what I call "Disaster-planning". Simply put, whenever I take on a large project, I try to build in extra time for that "just in case" factor. So far, this weekend's feast is putting me to the test.

A week ago, I put in my produce order. I scheduled it for pick-up on THURSDAY. Even though I'd have to store it an extra day, I like to have that day "just in case." When I got to the store last night, no one was around in produce. Seems they all leave by 4:00pm, and nobody bothered to tell me. DEE-di-DEE!

No prob, I still have tonight. So this morning, as recommended, I called the store. The guy that I ordered from is out, and will not be in today. I spoke to another guy who spoke, at best, SHATTERED English. "Turneps?" he asked. We have turneps. "NO!" I said "Parsnips! Not turneps. Like big white carrots. Parsnips." "Oh." He said. "I no see doze."

Le sigh.

Maybe they are there. Maybe they are not. Maybe I'll spend tonight driving from freaken' store to freaken' store to clean them out of their parsnips. In fact, I'm plannin' on it at this point with the hopes that I will be pleasantly surprised by NOT having to cover the county in the great parsnip hunt. Why, oh why is this beginning to sound like Wallice n' Grommet and the Wererabbit?

Surprise

Some people thrive on surprises. The thrill and excitement of the unexpected makes them just mad with delight. Whether it be a big box covered in decorative paper or surprise parties, each unknown teases and tantalizes like its own treasure hunt entertaining the surprised party along the journey to its culmination. Then, to the opposite side of the spectrum, we find the kind of person who detests surprises. The unexpected is nothing less than an evil shock to the system for control freaks who pride themselves in their ability to predict and to plan. I’m sure it will come to no surprise to any of my dear friends out there in LJ land that I fall into the latter category.

Probably my single weakest ability is the ability to punt. I am not fast on my feet and do not react well to the unexpected. I am the type of person who upon walking into a room where people yell “Surprise” might very well throw up or run out of the room in fear. In spontaneous word exchanges, I can usually come up with the perfect retort after five or ten minutes of calmly thinking about it. But at the time, if I’m lucky, I might be able to muster something akin to “oh yah?!” or the proverbial “yo momma!”

This trend carries into other forms of planning. When I plan a project, I tend to plan to the micron if for no other reason than because I hate dealing with the unexpected. In fact, when I plan things that involve deadlines, I often build extra time into my timeline as a “disaster-crat” measure. One should, after all, always plan for the unplanned, right?

Such is the case with my current front-burner project (no pun intended), the Lyondemere Feast.

A week ago, I placed my produce order at a local store. Now, this and of itself is unlike me. Typically, I order produce through a local farmer’s market. However, given my schedule as of late, it was simply impossible for me to even visit said market, much less put in an order. No problem, though – my local grocer would do nicely. As a “just in case” measure, I purposely requested the order to be ready by Thursday for pick-up. That way, “just in case” it didn’t arrive, I would have an extra day to scramble.

When I arrived at the store yesterday, there were no managers available, and no one working in produce. Turns out, the last produce worker left at 3:30 that afternoon. (Did anyone mention that to me? HECK no). Not a problem, though. I had “disaster” planned an extra day.

Early this morning, I called the store to speak to someone in produce to verify if the order was in. The gentleman that I originally spoke to was not available. The gentleman that I did manage to speak to spoke, at best, shattered English. I really did not understand him, nor did he understand me. Le Sigh. I decided later in the day to call and speak to a manager.

I reached a manager – YEAH!
She spoke English – YEAH!
She understood my concern – YEAH!
She checked on my order – YEAH!
They had everything in except for the one trickiest thing to find – BOO! BOO! BOO!

So now I foresee spending the rest of the evening going from store to store to store saying, “Parsnips… got parsnips?! They’re like white carrots. Yes, parsnips. No… not turnips. No, NOT turnips. Parsnips. P-A-R-S… No, not carrots… PAR… Oh never mind!”

I foresee a big bottle of something fermented in my near, near, near future.