but what about the moss?

When it says a watch is "water resistant," how resistant does resistant mean exactly? And what about the moss? It didn't say anything about moss.

It was five-million degrees, I had been helping Carolyn for almost twenty hours and the guests were going to arrive in forty-five minutes. But how was I supposed to know? My watch was bathing in 18" of murky, messy, green moss. Oh how I envied it. While I was toiling, it was taunting, basking in the cold, cold water.

I suppose the bride hadn't envisioned a fanny-forward girl, elbow-deep in moss, literally sweating her life away, greeting the guests at the front gate. What? Like it would ruin the ambiance? Puh-leeze. My sixty-dollar outlet-purchased watch was missing in the murkiness, for crying out loud! The. world. must. stop!

Never you mind, bride. I was cool as a cucumber. Actually, I was in frantics. This was the wedding. She was the bride. The Who's-Who of Utah's finest - in government, church and social circles would all be present and no, they didn't want to see my toosh, nor did it want to be seen by them. Commence utter-frenetic watch-searching.

The security guards were in-and-out, as were the musicians, and the entire staff from The Point Restaurant. I began sort of a system. When solitary: I searched. When surrounded: I mossed (aka I strategically placed the moss around the topiaries ever so professionally). Truth be told, this was all seen by an entirely different set of security guards, at Command Post Central Station, as was (I'm convinced) my trip to the bathroom (with an LED laser-lit control pad for the "Downstairs Bathroom Four" in it's entirety, which, by the time I mustard up the courage to actually touch, I was in a bit of a bathroom crisis, if you know what I mean, providing another laugh for Big Brother, etc. wherever He was. Or wasn't? Hmmm).

Okay, back to the moss. So Security Guard "Stan," (we'll call him) was a fast least-fav as he walked back and forth, back and forth, not only slowing the search process, but also acting as a verbal Father Time, probably on cue from BB himself. "So, you work well under pressure..." No, this wasn't a compliment. It was a question. Especially since this is what followed (again and again and again) "...twenty-two minutes." Then he'd gab something on his walkie-talkie, "Identify white 4 Runner. Over." I'll show YOU 'over'! I had told him the 4 Runner was mine as many times as he had asked me if I worked well under pressure. "And this guy's at the front gate? You might wanna re-think that one! Over."

The tale ended happily. We narrowly escaped the guests by about two minutes. (Well to tell the truth, we actually stumbled upon a Church Authority and wife on our way out. Always a treat). Another beautiful wedding by Carolyn. The whole day had been pretty funny, considering: Katharine going to Larry Miller's instead of J. H. Sr.'s. Liz and me "trapping" the maids downstairs after we'd spent about fifteen minutes tying a beautiful bow across the designated "Do Not Pass" areas. K & L's back-and-forth ribbon feud, "Yours is so Queen Ann-Baroque-looking!" Our constant bets to see who had the guts to go jump in the pool. The whole bathroom bit, which I wish someone witnessed, and, like I said, someone(s) probably did.

What about the moss, you ask? Well, after I'd finished with the topiaries, I walked back in the main entry (or was it? We never really figured out which entry was the main entry as there are so many) I sifted out the moss and there she was, in all her silvery sixty-dollar glory, still ticking away. And to think, the reason she fell in in the first place was because I was taking her off, trying to protect her from all that grime, but she slipped (jumped?) from my grasp and fell into the bucket. (It was very Anne of Green Gables. You know, where Anne makes up that story about losing Merilla's brooch on the bridge).

So yesterday, when Carolyn tossed out the idea about the moss, I was quick to offer the job to Kelly, who handled it beautifully, watch and all.