Apparently, part of my wifely duties includes helping out Mr. Strong with his catering business. While I don't remember this being stated in the marriage vows as I may or may not have been drinking, I usually have fun helping out.
Generally, you can tell a lot about the people getting married by the decorations (or lack of). Fussy arrangements = fussy people. And fussy people are no fun. Another big clue is how the guests are dressed. Men in tuxedo t-shirts are usually a guarantee for a good time.
When I pulled up in the church parking lot (hmmm...a non-alcoholic affair because in our town, only the Jews and Catholics allow drinking on sacred ground), the first guest I saw was a tall guy with long braided hair and a head band. Yep. The gods were smiling on me.
Next, I traipsed into the reception hall to eye the decoration. Simple tulips in vases. Very nice and non-fussy!
By all accounts, things were looking good.
Now a typical wedding reception without alcohol usually lasts for an hour to an hour and a half. Apparently, alcohol is needed to make people want to hang around for longer. And copious amounts of alcohol is definately needed if dancing is expected.
For whatever the reason, I am usually volunteered to be the cake cutter at wedding receptions. Why anyone would trust me with a knife is beyond me.
This bride and groom (a lovely couple, I assume) wanted the guests to start eating at the reception while they posed for pictures with the wedding party. This lasted for an hour and a half! Which meant there I was, guarding the cake while hungry, hungry people came up to stare (glare). And really, the cake was lovely. It was baked by the same lady who made the cupcakes for mine and Mr. Strong's wedding. There, see for yourself. See. There were a bunch of cakes!
Another 30 minutes passed before the bride and groomed were finally cornered to cut the cake.
So now picture this. We've been standing around for approximately 2 hours with the guests. They've been waiting for the cake (because really, the lady who bakes the cakes is that good!). And now they are already in line for cake or sitting on the edge of their chair ready to jump up and attack anyone who gets in their way (you would, too, if you'd been waiting this long without alcohol).
Honestly, the cutting of the cake is a science. And since I failed science in 6th grade, I probably should not be the one cutting. But cut the cake I did. Some pieces are larger than others. Some have more icing than others. Oh, well. That's what happens with *free* help.
Excuse me? Oh, you wanted a smaller piece? Just eat what you want and throw away the rest? Oh, you need a another piece? Here. Let me cut you a chunk.
And the one person who took the cake (if I can't use that phrase here, where can I?) was the pretentious guest who waited for me to cut her a piece instead of just picking up a prepared plate from the cake table. Then when she told me that she needed a piece for her husband, I very nicely smiled (while thinking "pick it up yourself, bitch") and handed her another plate with cake. She didn't need to know it was the piece that someone smelled then put back down to get another piece.
Ah. It is good to have reminders about why I work with children.