Bids and Bites moves to new venue

By NEAL EMBRY

After several years at the Hoover Country Club, the annual Bids and Bites fundraiser is moving to the Park Crest event facility.

The 18th iteration of the fundraiser, which benefits Vestavia Hills Elementary West, is set for Feb. 3 from 6 to 9 p.m., said Erin Lambert, an auction chair at the event. The event includes a silent auction, with items benefiting the school.

In past years, more than $18,000 has been raised, Lambert said.

Flynt Connor, president of VHEW’s PTO, said profits have allowed the PTO to grant new technology in classrooms, books for the library, speech-language therapy supplies, classroom books and outdoor equipment like basketball goals and a Gaga pit, which allows kids to play a “softer” version of dodgeball.

Guests can win jewelry and other prizes during the auction, along with enjoying a carving station and hors d'oeuvres, part of an expanded menu.

Each class at West has a theme basket they have donated for the auction as well,

Connor said. Bedzzz Express has donated a Tempur-Pedic mattress. All the bidding is done online, though the auction is in-person, Connor said.

The PTO has tried to ramp up their marketing to improve attendance at the event,

Connor said, and they are excited about moving to the new facility. Connor said they felt like a move was necessary to give the event new life.

Tickets are $30 per person or $50 per couple at the door on the day of the event.

We were newlyweds, living in a grungy apartment.

Each morning, I would wake before her. I would pass my morning hours writing poetry on a yellow legal pad, sipping coffee.

Mostly, I’d write the kinds of god-awful things you’d expect newlyweds to write. I’m talking painfully corny stuff. I’d leave these poems on slips of paper scattered throughout our apartment for her to find.

One such poem read:

Together, the two of us, In thought, and deed, and breath, and heart, Shall never be lacerated apart.

Gag me with number-two pencil. “Lacerated?” What kind of a dork uses that word? In fact, I’m not certain this verb works in this particular case.

LACERATE [verb: las-uh-reyt] lac·er·at·ed, lac·er·at·ing

1. to tear; mangle; rip. Example: Hey dude, that poem you wrote really freakin’ lacerated.

My wife saved all my crummy poems in a shoebox, and today they reside in a storage closet.

Anyway, when we first married, we lived in an apartment that smelled like dead squirrels. I am not being figurative. I mean our apartment actually had a nest of decomposing squirrels in the attic above our master bedroom.