Matchmaker...

STRANGE DAY. THERE I WAS, BUBBLING WITH THE MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS. Must have had a pinch of something else in there too. It was Thanksgiving morning, and I arrived at the church on time to help get things ship-shape. Had nothing on my mind but pushing up my sleeves and getting to work! Mixed aromas wafting my way..turkey, stuffing, I'd know that smell anywhere.
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Stepped over the threshold into the holiday decorated gym...gallant elderly fellow at the doorway reaches out to greet me. Help me into the room? Is he the maitre'd? When did that start? Very noticeable. Maybe 6'5''. Shoulder length , good quality grey hair, handsome at any age. Familiar face..old rock star? Blue work shirt, faded jeans..Woodstock, rich hippie? Who??
Turn and greet instant pal, Lucy, from yesterday and the yam table, slice and dice. Throws her arms around me , air kisses.."My, you look sexy today!" I do a double take. Black leather sexy?
When did that start? Mr. Foxy Loxy gives me the once over, I catch it because I looked back..never look back!!
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Someone calls out to me, "Oh, don't hang that jacket up..someone's going to take it, for sure. Just tuck it under the supply table..it'll be safe there". As I'm removing my jacket and disguising it as a basketball, Lucy comes dashing over, grabs my hand and tells me that Foxy Loxy is looking for a relationship! And I quickly realize that I'm it. Was it the hunger in my eyes that gave me away? I thought that was for Pumpkin Pie! Clearly I showed longing and yearning for the geriatric idol at the door. As I protested, NO NO, I was being pulled in the direction of my future boyfriend. I told Lucy,"Not now". Not sure what I meant..I'm not available? I'm in love with someone? I'm married..well, not, but how does she know anything about me except how I cut yams? Matchmaker to the rescue. I will in the future have to turn off the blinking sign on my forehead.."NEEDY". Walked away from Lucy as she called out,"Why not"?
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Avoided that encounter, crawled under the table, tucked my jacket as far away from stealth as I could. Put a white plastic apron on, neutralizing my sexy outfit, placed my name tag on, and found my place in the scheme of things. I became the mixed veggie lady, standing next to the turkey lady, who for some reason took it upon herself to shred the huge trayful of turkey into minceable pieces. So that there will be enough to go around. Of course there will be enough, there's a dozen more in the kitchen. But she told me that she's a control freak, and I really didn't need a Thanksgiving confrontation. So I dished out veggies and passed the plate on to yams. Servers kept rolling their eyes at turkey lady's little bits. And coming back for more.
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Kicked my shoes off. Some cute servers made eye contact. No rush toward a relationship. Folks at my post were members of the church, Episcopal, I said I hadn't been to services in a while. They said I must come back. I smiled charmingly. We spoke of ethnic extraction, they were all English/Scottish..I said I was of Russian ancestry..Amazement all around, you'd think I was Anastasia. And did I go to the gorgeous Orthodox church down the street? No. Funny how people think they have you pegged.
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One more sort of unusual sidelight. Gilbert, the main chef, always on the job, stopped by to chit-chat for a moment. Reassured Control Freak that she could actually give a slice of turkey instead of shreds. And told us that all of our turkeys had been roasted at Riker's Island. That the prisoners there, (Riker's Island is a prison in NY harbor) had done the work, sliced the birds, and packed them up to be shipped to a church on the Upper East Side.
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There's nothing like being in a room full of strangers, drawn together in celebration. What I like best is knowing, at heart, that we're really just people. And I can hardly wait to do the MEAL all over again for Christmas. Maybe I'll even take another look in Foxy Loxy's direction. Or whoever Lucy has picked out for me by then.