Apparently even Martha does it. So it must be OK.
Would someone please tell me why it is that whenever I indulge in a few drinks beyond my limit, I suddenly start offering up services that would warrant an entire season’s worth of HGTV?
Case in point: this weekend at my friend Tony’s wedding reception, I saw my friends Seth and Johnnie. They confessed that they had exchanged rings in their own private commitment ceremony of sorts, and immediately, I jumped on the “OH MY GOD, WE MUST THROW YOU A RECEPTION” bandwagon.
Nevermind that they made their commitments to each other PRIVATELY quite a while ago.
Suddenly, I fancied myself a wedding planner. I zipped through the details quickly, as if I’d done it a thousand times. “So what I’m thinking, it’s going to set you back a couple grand – can you swing that? Most of that will be a band and liquor. We’ll do the rest of it as a potluck picnic in an Arlington County park. I’ll call on Monday to find out their reservation and rental system…”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seth asked me repeatedly.
“Of course! Are you kidding?” I was unstoppable.
Until I woke up the next morning. It had sounded like a marvelous idea at the time, but in the sober dawn of a new day, the realities of my world came crashing back on me. I travel 50% of the time; I work 10-12 hour days when I’m not traveling; I’ve just moved into a new place which I need to finish furnishing, painting and decorating. When, exactly, had I thought I would have time to plan a celebration? I still haven’t pulled of a housewarming.
Sigh.
The thing is, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. My eyes are always bigger than my stomach – so to speak – after I’ve had a few cocktails. Take the first wine night after Liz got engaged. We were all toasting and excited, and next thing I knew – I had volunteered to make her wedding cake as my gift to her.
Nevermind that I have never baked and iced a single layer cake from scratch – let alone a friggin’ wedding cake. Apparently, when I’m buzzed, my generosity knows no limits, nor does my imagination. I suddenly have a Martha Stewart-like prowess when it comes to anything domestic.
Liz spotted the train wreck from a mile away, even while intoxicated. “How about the groom’s cake?” she refocused me.
“Groom’s cake? Hell yeah!” I was on-board.
Until I woke up the next morning. I was glad we’d down-graded to a groom’s cake, but the thought of having to make some manner of red velvet armadillo (Hello – has anyone seen Steel Magnolias? That was my only point of reference!) horrified me.
Sheepishly, I called Liz. “Um. About that groom’s cake…”
She laughed and let me off the hook, with no small degree of relief in her own voice.
Catastrophe averted. THAT time.
Now if only I can propose a ten-person guest list to Seth and have it double as a housewarming party at my place, we’ll be in business.
pithypants 
Hahaha, this sounds familiar… I’ve just volunteered to make the food for my friend’s 120-person wedding! And I’m IN the wedding!