Remember how we pulled off an Irish Goodbye at the TobacCo holiday party? Well, we may have slipped out unnoticed, but our slipping out didn’t go unnoticed. Although, we went unnoticed by one of the higher-ups.
Confused yet?
Our office manager stopped by my cubicle one day last week to make sure I’d gotten my holiday gift. After confirming that I had, she said, “You slipped out without saying goodbye! We were looking all over for you!”
I didn’t have the nerve to say, That was kind of the point. I did tell her we said goodbye to a few people, which was true. And I don’t believe for one second they were looking all over for me, because, why would they be? It’s not like I had a speech to give or any other party-associated task. There’s always the chance they wanted more of my patented charm and wit, I suppose.
At least Office Manager knew I was there. One of TobacCo’s co-founders ventured over to my desk and said, “Sorry you missed the holiday party!” I very quickly assured him I was there, mentioning key points like Bob’s speech and the chicken parm and the musician’s rendition of “Times Like These.” I bombarded him with enough specific details to convince him I’d been there, and he apologized for his oversight. Whew! What’s the point of putting in face time if the people that matter most never even see your face??
I hate to admit it, but this does lend credence to one of Daryl’s impassioned speeches that evening. You might recall he’s the super chatty guy who has an opinion about everything and hijacks you into a conversation at every turn. Real nice guy, don’t get me wrong, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Anyway, he happened to be seated at our table during the party, and launched into this theory on corporate social etiquette. Of course he did. He was very specific, too: according to Daryl, the rules for a company holiday party dictate that you stay for a minimum of one hour and 18 minutes and have a brief conversation with each of the company’s founders before making your getaway. Well, we were there for the allotted time and had a brief convo with one of the company’s founders, but obviously skipped chatting with the other one, who assumed I didn’t show up.
I’ll never make fun of Daryl again.
I’ll also never attend a holiday party again, because Geez Louise, the stress!
About a week ago, Tara was scrolling through Instagram. “Hey, this looks cool!” she said, and shared a link to an authentic European-style holiday market in Wauwatosa, a suburb of Milwaukee. Can I just say how much I love the names of so many Wisconsin towns? All those vowels. So many syllables. Ws galore. They’re so much fun to say! Wauwatosa. Waukesha. Weyauwega. They sound like the chorus to “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”
Anyway, the market did sound cool, so I suggested we check it out on Saturday. Tara hemmed and hawed a little, which is funny, because she’s the one who found it. When I mentioned this, she said, “If given a choice, I always prefer to stick close to home on the weekend,” which is funny because we are forever headed off on adventures. Every Monday my boss asks me what I did over the weekend, and he jokes that I’ve explored more of the state than he has, and he’s a Wisconsin native. At least one of you has mentioned the Wisconsin Department of Tourism should hire me as an ambassador because I do such a good job promoting various places and events. (I’d be down for that, by the way.)
So, I call bullshit, babe.
I think she was less keen on the idea because it was raining. Rain! In December! Oh lordy, our planet is in trouble. European holiday markets are held outdoors, so I can understand her reluctance a little. And naturally, I forgot to pack an umbrella. But I made up for it by suggesting brunch at Buckabaton Supper Club, right across the street from the market. This turned out to be a good idea, because the food was amazing and the north woods-inspired decor was cozy and kitschy.
My blackened perch, sunny side up eggs, and potato pancake with spiced applesauce totally hit the spot. Even the rye toast was great, though I was too full to eat more than a bite or two. Shoutout to that dill pickle Bloody Mary, too.
The idea was to wait out the rain, but it was falling a little harder when we left Buckabaton (so many vowels and syllables!) than when we entered, so that plan kinda backfired. We just sucked it up and wandered around in the rain, ducking inside the bier hall at one point for polka music and a cup of gluhwein that did a nice job warming us up.
The longer we stayed, the wetter we got, so we didn’t linger. Picked up a few goodies from one of the stalls and trekked back to the car. Wauwatosa seemed absolutely charming; it’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to explore it more, but we’ll save that for a rainy day. Err…a non-rainy day. In any case, the Holiday Market is going into my festival planner for next year. Hopefully then we’ll have good old-fashioned snow. El Nino can kiss my ass.
Today is Tara’s apparently favorite kind of weekend day, as we’re staying home. I’m feeling trigger happy, so I’ll be making Spritz cookies this afternoon. I missed out last year because the cookie gun was packed away in a box somewhere, no doubt alongside the elusive potato masher.
Mark My Words 
Leave a comment