And now, I have officially seen everything.

Turkey in a glass. Yes, you read that right. Turkey in a glass was on the menu tonight. Not at home, no no, we don't try that stuff here. No freaky deaky, fancy foul under this roof. Mashed potatoes, sliced turkey breast, a sliver of stuffing and gravy, garnished with a sugared cranberry skewer and served in a stemless martini glass. The turkeytini. As I said, now I have officially seen everything.

So where, you might ask, did this collision of bird and barware transpire? Seven floors above street level in a downtown hospital, to the sheer delight of hundreds of guests. Intrigued? Follow me...

My job sees me spending the odd evening or two schmoozing at or around a makeshift bar. Nothing untoward about that - the bars are always dressed in fancy linens, the wines are generally respectable, the bartenders wear solid black, and there's nary a tip jar in sight. I'm surrounded by the well to do and/or the well intentioned, and we're all gathered together to learn about/celebrate/raise funds/raise awareness for the cause at hand. There are fabulous people, fabulously dull people, and people I don't know - yet. But give me time, give me time.

If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life. This is one of Hubs' favourite sayings, and I subscribe to his line of thinking, 'cause let's face it, I've got one of the best gigs going. Yes, my job is work. Yes, I can't just come and go as I please. But loving what you do makes life that much more sweet, more rewarding. And since I'm no morning person, it's the only thing that gets me out of bed five out of seven days of the week.

I am one of the lucky few who can state with all sincerity (and a straight face) that I am making a difference because of the work I do each day. And that appeals to this diva's ego - big time. And while fetes like this one do indeed cut into my all-too-precious 'me time', I'm willing to let it go, for the greater good.

So what if I have to watch Grey's Anatomy a little later? I've pvr'd it and can now skip all the commercials. So what if I've worked 11 hours straight? My office is hardly a run down sweatshop with mud floors and searing heat. So what if I have to cut my blog entry a bit short today because my eyeballs are burning and my bed is singing its siren song? Again...water under the bridge, all for the greater good.

Hell, if I didn't go I would have missed out on the turkeytini. And that's a sacrifice I'm not sure I'm willing to make.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?