Back in the First Baptist Church days, my mother, as the pastor's wife, used to have to sit in on event planning. My mother (an ENTJ) has the same reaction I do to the word "committee". We want to start chewing our own arms off. The thought of sitting around with a bunch of women discussing the particular shade of pale pink for the napkins makes us want to take a hammer and start bashing at our temples.
So when mother had to sit in on the Mother/Daughter banquet committee, and listen to the ladies hem and haw about what the entertainment should be, she just said "You know what, just leave all the entertainment to me, I'll take care of it all".
And boy, did she ever...Mind you, she had no idea what she was going to do when she made that statement, she just knew she wanted the talking to cease and desist at that very moment before the hammer reached her gray matter.
She decided to do a plastic trash bag fashion show. Yes, I said plastic trash bag fashion show. What, you've never heard of such a thing? Mom was green way before her time. Project Runway had NOTHING on her.
Oh yes, that's Amy...
I got to be the bride at the end of the show.
The best part was my brother Andrew as the fashion show emcee. He worked the french accent and the fashionista lingo. He wanted extreme shoulder pads, so he put maxi pads in his blazer....
The designer herself had to take a final walk down the runway.
That church had never seen anything like it before, and never will again.
(My niece Bethany works in the fashion magazine industry in New York. Now she knows from whence came her talent...)
No comments:
Post a Comment