Let Me Eat Cake

Farmer H has been working on his high school class reunion. It's a small school, with 54 people in their graduating class. Farmer H says 11 of them have since died. He went to a meeting of former classmates several months ago, and volunteered himself as one of the key members of the unofficial steering committee. Or whatever you call people who are in charge of such an event.

One gal has meetings at her house, and delegates duties. Another gal keeps track of people who send in their ten dollars to RSVP. Farmer H searches for graduates and tries to contact them on Facebook to see if they plan to attend. All three of these organizational bigwigs have selflessly donated time and money to making the event a success. Farmer H said that he gave them $100 at the first meeting, "Because we knew there were things we'd need to start getting before people sent in their money."

I'm pretty sure they'll have a good turnout. That's the school that became Newmentia, where I spent the last 18 years of my career. High school graduation is a big deal. I had students who were going to be the first in their family to graduate. So those who DID graduate, back then, are pretty proud of it, and likely to attend the reunion.

As I write this, it is 5:00 p.m. on Saturday. The time the reunion festivities start. Farmer H spent the morning decorating the school cafeteria. He was headed to a local restaurant at 4:00 to pick up the food. This morning he picked up the cake that he ordered a month ago, and some lemonade that he couldn't find Friday, when he bought $33 worth of tea.

I found the receipt on the kitchen counter. I guess after giving up $100 for general expenses, Farmer H decided that any further expenditures would come from our joint account. I don't begrudge it to him. I would have preferred a heads-up for the budget.

"Thirty-three dollars for TEA? I only spent thirty-TWO dollars for groceries at The Devil's Playground!"

"I had to get some of it in cans. I was at The Devil's Playground, too. They only had the kind of tea that needs to be refrigerated. And they didn't have ANY lemonade that would work. I'm in charge of that, too."

"Try Country Mart. I'm pretty sure they have it in jugs."

"I can look when I pick up the cake."

Farmer H DID find lemonade there, but it was in 2-liter bottles, not jugs. I'm afraid to ask what it cost. Since I asked about the cake.

"Hey, how much was that cake?"

"Oh. Uh..." That's never a good sign. When Farmer H stalls for time before answering. "It was fifty-eight dollars. Plus tax."

"I TOLD you a cake was going to be expensive!"

"I'll make sure you get a piece."

Heh, heh. I'm pretty sure he'll bring me a piece of cake before he gives me the final receipts.