All Fundraisered Out
Please forgive the dearth of blog posts recently. One, I'm still busy being mad at my husband. Two, I worked my ass off at a fundraiser on Saturday and haven't quite recovered from it.
I volunteer for a Boxer Rescue organization and we have a huge fundraiser every September called "The Boxer Bash." Basically we invite every dog lover in the state to come to our event, and then we do everything we can think of to separate them from their money. We have a silent auction, bake sale, food sales, etc. The event is a lot of work. We spend about six months preparing for it.
This year, it rained. We'd dodged the bullet for the past seven years, and then our luck ran out on Saturday. We kept our fingers crossed that the rain would not be a dealbreaker (most of our events were indoors - we rent a large exposition building for the occasion). On Saturday morning, Chloe (my foster dog) and I were scheduled to be at the local Fox station for a live interview. We got there at 7:15 (as instructed) for a 7:45 spot. It was pretty interesting, I have to admit. I felt like I was a third grader on a field trip. Chloe and I sat in the studio and watched the anchors deliver the news. I was able to read the teleprompter along with them and hear what they were saying. The weather man strode into the "Weather Lab" every three minutes to remind the viewing audience that we could expect relentless rain All. Day. Long. Thanks for the scoop, Doug!
At one point the anchors were chatting with a reporter who was at a remote location - some sort of wine festival. The female anchor mentioned something about a celebrity grape stomp (the reporter was the "celebrity," which does stretch the definition of the word a bit). "You'll do good!" she said enthusiastically. My head whipped around so that I could check the teleprompter to see if she was actually instructed to say that. Indeed, she was not. I think I heard the sirens of the grammar police as I was leaving the studio later.
As for us, Chloe sat patiently (well, as patiently as a 20-month-old dog can) until it was time for our little segment. As soon as the camera started rolling, she flopped onto her back, began gnawing on her leash, and commenced kicking me in the shins with her flailing hind legs. "So, Chloe is available for adoption?" asked the anchor chick. "Yes, she is!" I responded brightly, as Chloe continued trying to make herself appear as unadoptable as possible. The only thing that dog overlooked was the opportunity to squat and take a shit on live TV.
One thing that surprised me about being inside the studio was that there was junk EVERYWHERE. How none of it shows up on camera is beyond me. Chloe and I were sitting in a mock living room (basically two upholstered chairs on a raised, carpeted platform, with some sort of backdrop behind us). The carpet was littered with all sorts of flotsam and jetsam. The chairs themselves had certainly seen better days. There were soda cans and other drinks here and there around the set. The joint was not as high-tech as you'd think. The rescue was happy to have the media coverage of our event, though. I have no idea how I got elected to do the interview, except that I have a reputation for showing up for commitments. Damn me and my reliability anyway.
Despite the rain, we had a good day on Saturday. The event was very well attended and we made something like $12,500 (expenses have not been deducted from this figure). I won a few things in the silent auction - a purse, some Boxer notecards, and a leash/collar set. After the Bash ended, I hit the bake sale with a fury. I probably would've lost five pounds on Saturday, but I took measures to prevent that.
I am taking it easy this week. Well, as easy as a type-A, chronic list-maker, control freak type chick can take it.