On August 1, 2010, we hosted a BBQ at our house. For a whole bunch of strangers. (Who are now friends.) Computer geeks, actually. I was a little nervous, as I seem to have a little bit of social anxiety when I'm around people I don't know. My husband at least knew most of these people from Twitter (@BrentO, @SQLAgentMan, @SQLChicken, and lots and lots more....)
So anyhoo. They all descend upon my house. After an hour (and 3 strawberry daiquiris,) I relax and start to enjoy the company of those around me. This SQL group are good people! So here is the story of the Aftermath of SQLBBQ...
There were so many nice, helpful folks attending SQLBBQ. People carried things in and out, did some cooking, poured some drinks, played with my kid, and brought trays of meat into the kitchen. One of these helpful folks (who is still unknown) placed some extra ribs, chicken, and corn-on-the-cob into a baking dish and stashed it into the oven to keep warm. Very well intentioned. As the night wore down and the last guest left, I surveyed the remains- 5 hot dogs and a couple of burgers. I was astounded! How could there not be more leftovers than this? Either my husband planned very well when purchasing food or someone went hungry. I shrugged it off and packed the extra hot dogs and burgers into a Rubbermaid container, tossed it in the fridge, ran a load of dishes, and went to bed.
Several days pass. Nearly a full week, actually.
It is Friday evening. I decide to cook a frozen pizza. Now, we have two ovens in our house. We typically use the upper oven because it's just easier to get into and out of, and doesn't involve backing into a cabinet in order to remove the food. The upper oven we have been using all week. The lower oven hasn't been touched. Until tonight, because the pan I use to cook frozen pizzas is too deep for the upper oven, necessitating the use of backing into the cabinets in order to open the oven in order to insert food.
The pizza was ready to go. I added extra cheese and pepperoni, and a few pineapple slices for good measure. I back myself into the cabinets, and open the door of the lower oven.
A foul stench greets my olfactory nerve. I blink. Three flies escape from the blazing warmth of the pre-heat setting on my oven. I cautiously open the door a little more to figure out what on earth is going on.
And there is a baking dish, filled with ribs and chicken and corn on the cob, which had been placed there by a well-meaning individual and whom I am certain had no malice in their hearts when they performed such an act. Tears begin to sting my eyes. I quickly grab a garbage bag and throw out what should have been excellent leftovers.
A bit of a melt-down was had. Things were not pretty. I lit as many candles as I possibly could and ran all the fans in the house. My mood was as foul as the stench which pervaded my kitchen.
But everything's OK now. Now, I laugh about it. It's actually one of my better stories.
That's kind of sad, that I don't have any better stories than that.
I need to get out more.
Like maybe on next year's SQLCruise??