Friday, May 9, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Adventures in Plumbers
The first plumber laughed when I mentioned repairing the pipe - no one really does that any more. I knew that, but I had to ask. They'll be calling me to let me know when they can come look and estimate how much of their new summer house on the lake they can pay for with my job.
The second one asked me how long the pipe was. Umm...hmm. I told him "I'm a girl - you seriously expect me to have any sense of distance?? It's maybe...umm...four Astro Van lengths." He then asked if my lawn was...manicured. Hah!! Double hah!! I mean no. No it isn't. Ah, well, then they don't have rent a ditch digger but can use their bobcat totear up the yard dig out the pipe, saving some money. He told me, without even having to come look, "$500". I guess they aren't paying anyone's tuition this year, but I'm also worried that they'll get here and the estimate will turn into a bill for over two-thousand.
The third one informed me that "blue polybutylene is a bad word around there", but they were really very nice and will call me when they can come have a look and estimate the cost of that new sporty car they've been looking at.
Number four sounded a little...slow...and I'm not at all sure I'll have them do the work even if they promise it'll only cost a dollar. They're coming out tomorrow, and we'll see if first impressions are wrong. Meanwhile, I think I hear them calculating what it'll cost to paint the interiors of their homes.
Number five doesn't do that kind of thing, but just happened to have a friend visiting who does, so he came out to look this afternoon. I liked this one a good bit - he was nice to the Evil Genius, was quite affable to me, and certainly looked and sounded like he knew what he was doing. He's calling back tomorrow with his estimate once he finds out how muchdinner at Outback a ditch digger will be - seems my pipe's a good four feet down, and not even a day laborer wants to dig that thing out.
The last one who spoke to me today did an estimate over the phone and sounded bored about it. Call me silly, but I just don't trust estimates done over the phone for work like this - I get the feeling they're just making up a random number that sounds nice, knowing very well that they'll get out here to do the work and start adding to the charges. I don't think I'll be calling them back.
Tomorrow I have a few more coming out to look and do their figuring - I'm thinking someone's wedding, a Caribbean vacation, and a strand of cultured pearls at the least.
At this rate, I'll have a plumbers convention in my front yard tomorrow...but maybe I'll also have a repaired pipe by next week.
The second one asked me how long the pipe was. Umm...hmm. I told him "I'm a girl - you seriously expect me to have any sense of distance?? It's maybe...umm...four Astro Van lengths." He then asked if my lawn was...manicured. Hah!! Double hah!! I mean no. No it isn't. Ah, well, then they don't have rent a ditch digger but can use their bobcat to
The third one informed me that "blue polybutylene is a bad word around there", but they were really very nice and will call me when they can come have a look and estimate the cost of that new sporty car they've been looking at.
Number four sounded a little...slow...and I'm not at all sure I'll have them do the work even if they promise it'll only cost a dollar. They're coming out tomorrow, and we'll see if first impressions are wrong. Meanwhile, I think I hear them calculating what it'll cost to paint the interiors of their homes.
Number five doesn't do that kind of thing, but just happened to have a friend visiting who does, so he came out to look this afternoon. I liked this one a good bit - he was nice to the Evil Genius, was quite affable to me, and certainly looked and sounded like he knew what he was doing. He's calling back tomorrow with his estimate once he finds out how much
The last one who spoke to me today did an estimate over the phone and sounded bored about it. Call me silly, but I just don't trust estimates done over the phone for work like this - I get the feeling they're just making up a random number that sounds nice, knowing very well that they'll get out here to do the work and start adding to the charges. I don't think I'll be calling them back.
Tomorrow I have a few more coming out to look and do their figuring - I'm thinking someone's wedding, a Caribbean vacation, and a strand of cultured pearls at the least.
At this rate, I'll have a plumbers convention in my front yard tomorrow...but maybe I'll also have a repaired pipe by next week.
How I Start the Day
Ding goes the doorbell.
Out of bed roll I, into skirt and shirt hastily fumbling and down the stairs to see who disturbs my slumber. Water department, nice fellow, finally here to tell me the good bad news - "the leak, madam, is on your side of the meter." and "I'm sorry to have to bring you bad news..."
Not bad news - I was expecting this, and just wanted them to let me know. He is surprised that I've been waiting for three weeks - he had no idea. I mention blue-polybutelene (sp?) pipe and he groans...we both know what that means.
He offers to turn off our water...but how am I supposed to live in a house with two men, one child, three cats and me with no water? No thanks.
Now begins the hunt for a plumber who can come dig up my yard and find the leaking pipe and hopefully simply repair it...but I am not holding out much hope for that. No one works with it any more, and I imagine most plumbers are going to tell me to dig the whole thing up and replace it. Sigh.
He apologizes again and I tell him I'm just glad to know.
Good thing we haven't put in that patio I've been dreaming of, out front.
'Scuse me, I have some calls to make...
Out of bed roll I, into skirt and shirt hastily fumbling and down the stairs to see who disturbs my slumber. Water department, nice fellow, finally here to tell me the good bad news - "the leak, madam, is on your side of the meter." and "I'm sorry to have to bring you bad news..."
Not bad news - I was expecting this, and just wanted them to let me know. He is surprised that I've been waiting for three weeks - he had no idea. I mention blue-polybutelene (sp?) pipe and he groans...we both know what that means.
He offers to turn off our water...but how am I supposed to live in a house with two men, one child, three cats and me with no water? No thanks.
Now begins the hunt for a plumber who can come dig up my yard and find the leaking pipe and hopefully simply repair it...but I am not holding out much hope for that. No one works with it any more, and I imagine most plumbers are going to tell me to dig the whole thing up and replace it. Sigh.
He apologizes again and I tell him I'm just glad to know.
Good thing we haven't put in that patio I've been dreaming of, out front.
'Scuse me, I have some calls to make...
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Overheard At the Assylum
This is an actual conversation that took place via a flurry of e-mails today - each line is an e-mail. It made perfect sense to the participants, so if you don't get it...what's wrong with you??
~~~~~
M: I’m not feeling particularly inclined to engage in occupational-related pursuits today. Can I come over and hang out in your backyard? (If only it were that simple, eh?)
K: C'mon over...I'm sure you can find a simulacra to take your place at work.
M: Maybe a doppelganger?
K: Or a helium balloon in a shirt, with a Sharpie smiley face on it?
M: How about a Cabbage Patch Kid? I more closely resemble them than helium balloons.
K: Lol...yeah, but I can't stand those awful things!! I LIKE you! Maybe a blow up doll? Or a CPR torso?? Hmm...what can we use as a Michelle distraction??
M: It’s really just pointless to try – there’s simply no possible replacement for lil’ ol’ moi!
K: No, but that's the whole point...to find something so farcical that it's obvious you've snuck out, but so amusing that no one can be angry about it!!
M: Oh, well, then… How about a voodoo doll? Or a Kewpie doll? Maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that’s half eaten? (There’s me, missing one of those obvious jokes again… Guess I am a real blonde.)
K: Muahaha...a fluffer-nutter on Wonder Bread, with a pickle on the side to throw them off...
M: Yeah, but who’s going to finish the package of Wonder Bread once it’s been opened?!?!
K: The ducks, of course. You did bring some ducks on this mission, didn't you? Everyone knows you NEED ducks on a covert operation! Preferably Buffleheads. They're the best sort for blending in and providing distractions. Also, I think we need some sprouts on the sandwich, or someone might think you've gone bald...and that would just be wrong.
M: I think maybe I’ll just print that email out and leave it on my chair without the rest of the conversation – I might get a hero’s welcome if I returned after that!
I know… it’s cheesy, but it’s Clip Art and it’s quick.
K: Quick, hide behind this:
Now sneak out the side door...I'll send a zeppelin to fetch you and we shall drift aimlessly about in search of world domination...or pie....
M: Sweet potato or cherry?
K: French silk, duh!! Although...a nice cherry pie could definitely assuage my need for world domination...if the cherries are nice and tart and there's vanilla ice cream to be had. You know, I could forgive you forgetting the ducks of there's ice cream. I'm just sayin'...I certainly never forgot the ducks...
Never mind world domination...let's go raid the Mayfield visitor's center instead. We can wear cow costumes and pretend to be on a pilgrimage...they'd never suspect a thing! I'd need to get a pedicure first, though...I wouldn't want my hooves to look bad when visiting Mecca. What do you think...sparkly pink hoof polish? Or just a classic, understated clear coat?
Oh, and ahem..re: printing the conversation...do you not read your own tag line????? You know, about being kind to the environment and stuff?? Gee whiz...
~~~~~
You'll note that M was clear headed and sensible in the beginning, and that K (who is this K? Where does she come from? Why isn't she contained safely behind a firewall somewhere?) dragged the sensible M right into Crazy, population:Us Them! What are friends for?
~~~~~
M: I’m not feeling particularly inclined to engage in occupational-related pursuits today. Can I come over and hang out in your backyard? (If only it were that simple, eh?)
K: C'mon over...I'm sure you can find a simulacra to take your place at work.
M: Maybe a doppelganger?
K: Or a helium balloon in a shirt, with a Sharpie smiley face on it?
M: How about a Cabbage Patch Kid? I more closely resemble them than helium balloons.
K: Lol...yeah, but I can't stand those awful things!! I LIKE you! Maybe a blow up doll? Or a CPR torso?? Hmm...what can we use as a Michelle distraction??
M: It’s really just pointless to try – there’s simply no possible replacement for lil’ ol’ moi!
K: No, but that's the whole point...to find something so farcical that it's obvious you've snuck out, but so amusing that no one can be angry about it!!
M: Oh, well, then… How about a voodoo doll? Or a Kewpie doll? Maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that’s half eaten? (There’s me, missing one of those obvious jokes again… Guess I am a real blonde.)
K: Muahaha...a fluffer-nutter on Wonder Bread, with a pickle on the side to throw them off...
M: Yeah, but who’s going to finish the package of Wonder Bread once it’s been opened?!?!
K: The ducks, of course. You did bring some ducks on this mission, didn't you? Everyone knows you NEED ducks on a covert operation! Preferably Buffleheads. They're the best sort for blending in and providing distractions. Also, I think we need some sprouts on the sandwich, or someone might think you've gone bald...and that would just be wrong.
M: I think maybe I’ll just print that email out and leave it on my chair without the rest of the conversation – I might get a hero’s welcome if I returned after that!
I know… it’s cheesy, but it’s Clip Art and it’s quick.
K: Quick, hide behind this:
Now sneak out the side door...I'll send a zeppelin to fetch you and we shall drift aimlessly about in search of world domination...or pie....M: Sweet potato or cherry?
K: French silk, duh!! Although...a nice cherry pie could definitely assuage my need for world domination...if the cherries are nice and tart and there's vanilla ice cream to be had. You know, I could forgive you forgetting the ducks of there's ice cream. I'm just sayin'...I certainly never forgot the ducks...
Never mind world domination...let's go raid the Mayfield visitor's center instead. We can wear cow costumes and pretend to be on a pilgrimage...they'd never suspect a thing! I'd need to get a pedicure first, though...I wouldn't want my hooves to look bad when visiting Mecca. What do you think...sparkly pink hoof polish? Or just a classic, understated clear coat?
Oh, and ahem..re: printing the conversation...do you not read your own tag line????? You know, about being kind to the environment and stuff?? Gee whiz...
~~~~~
You'll note that M was clear headed and sensible in the beginning, and that K (who is this K? Where does she come from? Why isn't she contained safely behind a firewall somewhere?) dragged the sensible M right into Crazy, population:
My Nephew, the Wonder Preemie
Woo-hoo!! My nephew the Wonder Preemie is over five pounds!! He may be going home in the next few days, although he's still on oxygen.
Big Brother had to buy a car bed because the little feller can't do a car seat. I want a car bed - or better yet, a car hammock. How do I get one of those??
He's still a little fragile, but he's tough as Wonder Preemie's go. Any day now he'll be up running decathlons and stuff.
Big Brother had to buy a car bed because the little feller can't do a car seat. I want a car bed - or better yet, a car hammock. How do I get one of those??
He's still a little fragile, but he's tough as Wonder Preemie's go. Any day now he'll be up running decathlons and stuff.
The Alien In My Living Room
I forgot to mention that Bird lost a second tooth on Sunday evening. The tooth Fairy will be getting back to him about that...
Here are the pictures I took of Bird last night:
Stylin'...
I am so NOT in the mood...
There is absolutely nothing Smurflike about this...
"And he was all up in my face and I was all like 'Yo, bitch, step off!'..."
As I was putting Bird to bed last night, I asked him if we could have a break with the head injuries for a couple of months. His response? "Maybe we should tell Noodle that."
Hah!!
Head Banger
Bird and I just got home from a little jaunt to the hospital. He's fine...tired, but fine. Well, mostly. He is a little...perforated...
Let's go back to last Wednesday or so, when he fell out of his bed - you know, this bed:
Let's go back to last Wednesday or so, when he fell out of his bed - you know, this bed:
He whacked his forehead but good on the floor, had a beautiful goose-egg and a bruise to match, and was more angry than scared or hurt. A damp cloth and some kisses and cuddle time set him right, although I did watch him carefully the rest of the afternoon, just in case. Still, that didn't warrant a trip to the doctor.
Then there was our jaunt to the grocery store on Thursday when he was playing around on the grocery cart and whacked the other side of his forehead on the cart-handle, a good solid hit that gave him another bruise - for a couple of days, he looked like he had horns coming in.
Tonight, the combination of Bird, Noodle, a large piece of foam, gravity and some decorative molding went awry. Noodle was chasing Bird with the foam, pushed him (you know how boys play...or maybe you don't...if you don't go ask a mum with sons and she'll tell you all about how they try to kill each other on a regular basis...and not just sons...daughters and mixed siblings do it, too...or am I the only one whose brother used to use a choke hold on her? I am? I feel so special...so loved...), and down Bird went, smack into the dining room wall at Michelle's...and the lovely ( and apparently rather pointier than we realized) decorative molding there.
We didn't know Bird was hurt, at first...he was acting more angry that Noodle had pushed him...but when he finally came to collect a kiss from me, I noticed blood on the collar of his t-shirt. Not much, just a tiny bit, but enough to prompt a quick inspection on my part.
At first, I only found a little puncture, but with Michelle's help and a good deal of wiggling on Bird's part, we found another puncture - not bleeding profusely, but seeping steadily, turning a chunk of Bird's hair red - it matched the color on the top of his head beautifully, I might add.
After a bit of discussion and some careful thought between us mums, I finally decided that maybe I ought to take him to the hospital. Please don't lose your mind about this - we are very casual about small hurts, even bleeding ones, as it doesn't serve anyone to panic or run to the hospital every time a child had a minor injury. I knew he hadn't lost consciousness, nor did he have an altered personality (hmm...he was rather well behaved at the hospital...) or nausea or blurred vision. I know what to look for, and he didn't show any signs of having received grievous injury (the wound was tiny, a few millimeters at most)...so it was really debatable whether I should take him or not.
Then came the question of whether I should take him to the hospital nearest Michelle's house or the one nearest my own house (more than an hour's drive away). I finally settle on the one nearest Michelle's - I know T wouldn't want to go to the ER with us (he really doesn't do hospitals) and I couldn't see any other reason to drive all that way to a busy ER near home when there was one close by.
Good choice - the Emory at John's Creek ER was clean, quiet, courteous, and quick - we were in and out in two hours, a nice turn around for us...and I know that we would still be waiting in the ER at NE Georgia (they're busy, busy, busy...and tonight being Cinco de Mayo and the population around NE Georgia being largely Hispanic, well...).
I had to explain to everyone who saw him that the red on top of his head was hair coloring, not blood...he wasn't attacked with a nail gun, folks!! Next time, he's getting purple or green...
After careful examination, the doctor explained that they could close the wound with a staple, but since it's on the back of his head where no one will see a scar, they didn't really need to. It was small enough to let heal on its own, although large enough that they said I made the right decision to bring him in - so I could simply have come home, but I'm OK with making the choice to go to the ER anyway...better safe than sorry, and he got to charm the socks of the admitting nurse, the triage nurse, three doctors, two more nurses and a young woman who was either a student or the youngest doctor I have ever met - just about everyone working in the ER popped in for a visit...must have been a slow night. Either that or they were ogling the really loud yarn I was quietly crocheting while Bird figured out the TV controls and found "How It's Made" to watch.
They would have stapled him if I asked, and I think they were expecting me to demand just that, but I told the nice doctor (cute, youngish, about six foot and slender with laugh lines around his grey-blue eyes, short cropped sandy blond hair with a little grey...not that I was looking...) that I wasn't pressed about it and if he thought no staple was needed, then no stapling would be done. I think they must have folks in there who get very uptight, because both he and the nurse looked stunned. Eh, scars add character. Heck, I'm covered in 'em, and I'm a character right? Right??
They put a compression bandage and a net cap on Bird - I took pictures as soon as we got home but I'm too tired to post them right now - and we were on our merry way. I drove through Mc Heartattacks and got the little guy a treat...he was amazing, letting the various people poke around his head while he was bent over like a supplicant to a pretzel god, and never even flinched when they put antibiotic goop on the ouchie and bandaged him up, so I figured some fries were in order. He was happy to have them, ate them all up.
He's asleep, now - he played a little in his room when we got home, then pulled the cap and the bandage off because they itched, so I covered his pillow with a clean towel and down he went. The doctor said that would be fine, that the wound may seep a little for a day or two but it was no biggie, and it's OK to wash it and let it heal up on its own...which I would probably have done anyway if it had been a millimeter smaller. Oh, well.
Thank you, Georgia tax payers, for footing the bill - we have state coverage for our little guy since we can't afford insurance on our own, and anyone who pays taxes in Georgia funds it. I usually resist using it, since I know how much care costs...but again, sometimes it's better to be safe than sorry.
I'll post the pictures of the white web smurfish cap tomorrow - for now I am finally tired enough to lie down and actually sleep rather than dwell on the Evil Genius' noggin bashing adventures and what he'll damage it with next...so g'night, and if I post tomorrow, it'll be later than usual...I'm sure you understand...
Monday, May 5, 2008
Mmm, Pancakes...
I made pancakes for breakfast this morning. Bird gobbled them up as fast as I could make them. Where does he put them? I can't eat as many as he does (I managed two this time) - seriously, he ate five. Five! His little tummy isn't even sticking out; sometimes I wonder if there's a portal to another dimension in his gut.
I make pancakes from scratch. It's not much harder than making them from a mix, and I feel better about myself for doing it. I thought maybe you'd like to take part in the fun, too. I'm just thoughtful that way. You can thank me after you change into the larger pants you'll need after you eat a pile of these babies!
The cast:
1 egg (Four Grain Omega Three eggs are nice)1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup milk (whole, skim, whatever. I use 2%)
1 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp Canola oil
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 lemon
Cinnamon (optional)
Vanilla (optional)
Blueberries (optional)
A skillet, griddle, or large frying pan.
One stick of butter, refrigerated.
OK, let's go!!
Heat skillet or whatever on medium heat. Dump flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and as much cinnamon as you want into a sifter. Set aside. Measure milk and leave it in the cup. Measure in oil and a good dollop of vanilla. Set aside. In a medium bowl, whisk the egg until it is fluffy. Pour in the milk mixture and whisk thoroughly. Sift in the dry ingredients and whisk until smooth. If you want a thinner batter, add a little more milk. Squeeze the lemon into the batter, careful not to let any seeds get in there. I use a small strainer for this. If you don't want thick, fluffy pancakes, leave out the lemon. Mix thoroughly, then gently stir in blueberries - about a cup of them is a good start, but if you're crazy for them add as many as you like.
Remove the stick of butter from the fridge and unwrap partly. Rub it on the skillet...yeah, baby...
Look at those bubbles...that's magic, that is.Put the butter back in the fridge. Spoon the batter onto the bubbling butter bath in the center of the skillet. Mmm....
When the edges are dry, flip that bad boy!
Give it a minute or two to finish cooking, then plate it. Repeat the buttering and spooning until you're out of batter.
These freeze nicely, too, so if you have too many (hah!), no worries - instant breakfast another time! This recipe doubles nicely - I got ten pancakes out of it, and a few are going into the freezer as long as the bottomless pit doesn't get to them first. If he eats this much now, I shudder to think what his teen years will be like!
What's that, you say? These don't sound at all healthy? Not enough variations? Well, hmm.
OK...substitute wheat flour for the all-purpose stuff, and brown sugar for the regular stuff and top with honey.
Add more berries, or bananas, or spices apples or...
Use 1/2 cup buckwheat flour and 1/4 cup whole wheat flour instead of all-purpose. Heck, you can sprinkle wheat germ over them before you turn them.
You can use buttermilk instead of milk, if you like, but then you should only use one teaspoon baking powder and one-half teaspoon baking soda.
Heck, you can even make them with ham in them - just leave out the sugar and stir in one-third to one-half cup chopped, cooked ham. Sprinkle them with a little cheddar cheese when they're done. if you want.
These babies are versatile, but in the end...I like plain old blueberry pancakes the best.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
A Better Ending Than a Beginning
Today is ending better than it began.
After being grumpy and feeling a little dizzy and rather ill with the world in general all morning, T, Bird and I went out on an errand - I needed yarn.
I hear Michelle, mum, and Kit laughing, for they have seen and heard of my prodigious stash and know that I could do without buying any more yarn for a decade or more and still have enough, but I needed yarn. Cotton yarn in many different colors and colorways (variegations, if you don't speak textile). I needed this yarn because I take it with me to the June event and custom crochet bikini style tops for the women there, and I wanted to have a nice selection for them to choose from.
I also crochet water bottle carriers and even little purses or gather bags on demand. A bikini top, if I am uninterrupted and in a groove, only takes a few hours. I plan to have a few ready-made for the event, and a few skeins ready to work with. It keeps my hands busy, gives me a sort of Zen mindset as I go about the day. I carry the yarn with me and walk as I work, chat with others, enjoy the venue. It's a pleasant way to go about things. So you see, I did need the yarn.
We went to the Evil Empire, this being the most convenient purveyor of yarns to our home. I wish it weren't so, but it is, and given the choice between shopping close to home or burning fuel for better than an hour to get somewhere else, well...I chose corporate malfeasance over polluting the air I have to eventually breathe.
While there, we got a little baseball glove for Bird, T insisting that the lad needs one. That's fine with me, as I throw like a girl whether I have a glove or not. T can spend some time bonding with the child and I can get dinner cooked, a book partly read, or any number of other things done in peace(ish).
We also went to the garden section because Bird was fascinated by all the colorful flowers, and while there I picked out a couple of tomato plants and some basil, and then a bit of soil...well, why not? I have had the desire to plant tomatoes this year, and I just happen to have a large empty pot that wants filling, so...
When we got home, we had a late lunch, and then T an Bird went to our room and wrestled on the bed for a while, giving me a little break. Then we went out into the lovely evening and the boys played while I planted.
I thoroughly enjoyed sinking my hands into the Earth, planting those little green things with the hope that they'll grow, thinking about the visceral pleasure of sinking my teeth into a sun-warmed tomato, planning a batch of pesto from the basil. I know there's no guarantee that they'll ever grow to harvest, our water being what it is, but I can hope...and isn't gardening the ultimate act of hope?
I know, I know, two tomato plants and some basil do not a garden make, but it's a start and it's all I can manage at the moment. Perhaps when Bird is older, we will put in some raised beds and have greater ambitions - but for now I will dream the simple dream of tomato slices with fresh basil leaves and a touch of balsamic vinegar on them. Mmm...
I feel better.
After being grumpy and feeling a little dizzy and rather ill with the world in general all morning, T, Bird and I went out on an errand - I needed yarn.
I hear Michelle, mum, and Kit laughing, for they have seen and heard of my prodigious stash and know that I could do without buying any more yarn for a decade or more and still have enough, but I needed yarn. Cotton yarn in many different colors and colorways (variegations, if you don't speak textile). I needed this yarn because I take it with me to the June event and custom crochet bikini style tops for the women there, and I wanted to have a nice selection for them to choose from.
I also crochet water bottle carriers and even little purses or gather bags on demand. A bikini top, if I am uninterrupted and in a groove, only takes a few hours. I plan to have a few ready-made for the event, and a few skeins ready to work with. It keeps my hands busy, gives me a sort of Zen mindset as I go about the day. I carry the yarn with me and walk as I work, chat with others, enjoy the venue. It's a pleasant way to go about things. So you see, I did need the yarn.
We went to the Evil Empire, this being the most convenient purveyor of yarns to our home. I wish it weren't so, but it is, and given the choice between shopping close to home or burning fuel for better than an hour to get somewhere else, well...I chose corporate malfeasance over polluting the air I have to eventually breathe.
While there, we got a little baseball glove for Bird, T insisting that the lad needs one. That's fine with me, as I throw like a girl whether I have a glove or not. T can spend some time bonding with the child and I can get dinner cooked, a book partly read, or any number of other things done in peace(ish).
We also went to the garden section because Bird was fascinated by all the colorful flowers, and while there I picked out a couple of tomato plants and some basil, and then a bit of soil...well, why not? I have had the desire to plant tomatoes this year, and I just happen to have a large empty pot that wants filling, so...
When we got home, we had a late lunch, and then T an Bird went to our room and wrestled on the bed for a while, giving me a little break. Then we went out into the lovely evening and the boys played while I planted.
I thoroughly enjoyed sinking my hands into the Earth, planting those little green things with the hope that they'll grow, thinking about the visceral pleasure of sinking my teeth into a sun-warmed tomato, planning a batch of pesto from the basil. I know there's no guarantee that they'll ever grow to harvest, our water being what it is, but I can hope...and isn't gardening the ultimate act of hope?
I know, I know, two tomato plants and some basil do not a garden make, but it's a start and it's all I can manage at the moment. Perhaps when Bird is older, we will put in some raised beds and have greater ambitions - but for now I will dream the simple dream of tomato slices with fresh basil leaves and a touch of balsamic vinegar on them. Mmm...
I feel better.
Thoughtfetti
T and I took Bird to see "Horton Hears a Who" yesterday - it was the little guy's first actual theater experience, and overall it went just fine. The movie's in its final run, so we were in the smallest of the theaters, and we had the whole thing to ourselves until the previews started - plenty of room for the Evil Genius to explore without bothering anyone. We sat in the back. We had the obligatory popcorn and drinks (water for Bird, his choice...good boy!) and some Twizzlers to share. The movie was just fine (Umm...five's not too young to be subjected to Jim Carrey's mania, is it?), and Bird spent half of it in my lap, entranced.
I missed some of the movie because Bird was in my lap, entranced, and I was watching Bird instead of the screen. Mmm...warm little boy cuddled up, completely oblivious to anything but the big flashing screen and animated mayhem...sigh. I spent a few minutes just enjoying holding my son and knowing these times don't last...which just makes them sweeter.
Cute movie...the animators had some very good drugs, I think...and a very nice way to spend a few hours.
~~~~~
An open letter to roommates, cohabitators, and families everywhere - if you are going to use the dishes, eat the food, and live in the space, either help clean it up or don't get in the way of whoever's doing the cleaning.
If I am going to be the only one doing dishes, I would appreciate it if a) you brought them to the kitchen so I can clean them BEFORE they grow moldy and gross, and b) you could put them in the sink only AFTER you have scraped all the nasty leftover food, wrappers, napkins and other detritus into the trash rather than leaving it all on the plate and then running water on everything so it gets extra disgusting for me. This holds true for fast-food cups and wrappers, too...I am having a hard time figuring out why you can't just put them in the trash to begin with!
Oh, and? On occasion, you could try bending your sorry ass over and picking up the stuff you knocked onto the floor rather than leaving it for me to clean up hours later - including the ice cubes that melt into cold little puddles for my feet to find. Yes, I understand that bending over may take a touch more time and effort on your part...perhaps you should try being less clumsy or careless, or making more than one trip to fetch what you want from the kitchen.
I would also appreciate it if you would spare more than a nanosecond of thought for what you are consuming - such as considering whether I can replace it right away, whether it's something I might need for cooking or feeding the small child living here, or whether you are leaving less than a sip, a bite, or a scoop for the next person. Really, finding the milk jug with two tablespoons (not kidding) of milk left in it makes cooking dinner a bit awkward when the ingredients call for milk!!
And again? Every now and then you might try looking INSIDE the dishwasher to see if the dishes are dirty, clean, or...it's empty! and act accordingly. I'm just saying, I might be more inclined to cook the dinners you enjoy so much and be a bit less bitchy if I'm not continually being pissed off left and right.
Don't get me started on the laundry, cat boxes, trash, and the downstairs bathroom that I NEVER use but am held responsible for cleaning (without benefit of flame-thrower or biohazard suit, either).
For "I", you can insert your mum, dad, spouse, child, second cousin's best friend's hair dresser, or whoever, as needed.
~~~~~
Dear Water Department,
When your meter reader came out and read the meter, did s/he not notice the copious amounts of water in the box? Upon not noticing the water that didn't belong there, did s/he also not note the rapid whirling of the meter? Upon not noticing that the meter was showing an astounding use of water for the last month, could they not have knocked on the door, left a note, or sent a telegram to the owners of the home with the obscenely large usage of this precious and recently scarce resource telling them that they may, possibly, have a tiny little leak?
I only ask because our water bill caused quite a ruckus around here, being almost one-hundred dollars for a month (when our usual bill is around ten-dollars unless it's a big laundry month). I was wondering why no one thought to let us know about this problem?
Also, when I called two weeks ago to inform you that we checked the meter to see if it was a misread and instead found standing water (leakage), is there some reason why, in this time of drought and watering restrictions, you acted as though you couldn't care less? When I asked to have someone come check the meter to see which side the leak was on so I would know whether to call a plumber, is there a reason you seemed bored? Was it me? Was I not dynamic enough for you? Should I have been weeping, wailing, gnashing my teeth?
When you sent someone out here, is there a reason s/he didn't see fit to speak to me or leave a note? Why did I have to call a second time to find out that your were stumped? Why, again, did you seem so unconcerned about this waste of water?
I gathered from our next chat (a week later) that my sense of urgency was not matched in your hallowed offices, especially when you informed me that your first agent was puzzled by the meter and someone else would come along "eventually..." I also gather that my idea of "someone letting me know what was happening as soon as they look at it so that I could call a plumber before my water bill is larger than the value of the house I'm living in" and yours may be slightly different, as you agreed that the next person would speak with me - so either they haven't come out yet or they didn't speak to me.
I can only imagine that your eye is on the bottom line - my enormous and every growing water bill. Since I won't have any recourse but to pay it whether you work to fix the meter or not, I can only imagine that you don't care about the drought or anything but the almighty dollar. Is it time for me to contact the local paper? The city council? Who will be worthy enough of your attention to get this taken care of? Because I'm really not interested in paying several hundred dollars a month for your disinterest.
I missed some of the movie because Bird was in my lap, entranced, and I was watching Bird instead of the screen. Mmm...warm little boy cuddled up, completely oblivious to anything but the big flashing screen and animated mayhem...sigh. I spent a few minutes just enjoying holding my son and knowing these times don't last...which just makes them sweeter.
Cute movie...the animators had some very good drugs, I think...and a very nice way to spend a few hours.
~~~~~
An open letter to roommates, cohabitators, and families everywhere - if you are going to use the dishes, eat the food, and live in the space, either help clean it up or don't get in the way of whoever's doing the cleaning.
If I am going to be the only one doing dishes, I would appreciate it if a) you brought them to the kitchen so I can clean them BEFORE they grow moldy and gross, and b) you could put them in the sink only AFTER you have scraped all the nasty leftover food, wrappers, napkins and other detritus into the trash rather than leaving it all on the plate and then running water on everything so it gets extra disgusting for me. This holds true for fast-food cups and wrappers, too...I am having a hard time figuring out why you can't just put them in the trash to begin with!
Oh, and? On occasion, you could try bending your sorry ass over and picking up the stuff you knocked onto the floor rather than leaving it for me to clean up hours later - including the ice cubes that melt into cold little puddles for my feet to find. Yes, I understand that bending over may take a touch more time and effort on your part...perhaps you should try being less clumsy or careless, or making more than one trip to fetch what you want from the kitchen.
I would also appreciate it if you would spare more than a nanosecond of thought for what you are consuming - such as considering whether I can replace it right away, whether it's something I might need for cooking or feeding the small child living here, or whether you are leaving less than a sip, a bite, or a scoop for the next person. Really, finding the milk jug with two tablespoons (not kidding) of milk left in it makes cooking dinner a bit awkward when the ingredients call for milk!!
And again? Every now and then you might try looking INSIDE the dishwasher to see if the dishes are dirty, clean, or...it's empty! and act accordingly. I'm just saying, I might be more inclined to cook the dinners you enjoy so much and be a bit less bitchy if I'm not continually being pissed off left and right.
Don't get me started on the laundry, cat boxes, trash, and the downstairs bathroom that I NEVER use but am held responsible for cleaning (without benefit of flame-thrower or biohazard suit, either).
For "I", you can insert your mum, dad, spouse, child, second cousin's best friend's hair dresser, or whoever, as needed.
~~~~~
Dear Water Department,
When your meter reader came out and read the meter, did s/he not notice the copious amounts of water in the box? Upon not noticing the water that didn't belong there, did s/he also not note the rapid whirling of the meter? Upon not noticing that the meter was showing an astounding use of water for the last month, could they not have knocked on the door, left a note, or sent a telegram to the owners of the home with the obscenely large usage of this precious and recently scarce resource telling them that they may, possibly, have a tiny little leak?
I only ask because our water bill caused quite a ruckus around here, being almost one-hundred dollars for a month (when our usual bill is around ten-dollars unless it's a big laundry month). I was wondering why no one thought to let us know about this problem?
Also, when I called two weeks ago to inform you that we checked the meter to see if it was a misread and instead found standing water (leakage), is there some reason why, in this time of drought and watering restrictions, you acted as though you couldn't care less? When I asked to have someone come check the meter to see which side the leak was on so I would know whether to call a plumber, is there a reason you seemed bored? Was it me? Was I not dynamic enough for you? Should I have been weeping, wailing, gnashing my teeth?
When you sent someone out here, is there a reason s/he didn't see fit to speak to me or leave a note? Why did I have to call a second time to find out that your were stumped? Why, again, did you seem so unconcerned about this waste of water?
I gathered from our next chat (a week later) that my sense of urgency was not matched in your hallowed offices, especially when you informed me that your first agent was puzzled by the meter and someone else would come along "eventually..." I also gather that my idea of "someone letting me know what was happening as soon as they look at it so that I could call a plumber before my water bill is larger than the value of the house I'm living in" and yours may be slightly different, as you agreed that the next person would speak with me - so either they haven't come out yet or they didn't speak to me.
I can only imagine that your eye is on the bottom line - my enormous and every growing water bill. Since I won't have any recourse but to pay it whether you work to fix the meter or not, I can only imagine that you don't care about the drought or anything but the almighty dollar. Is it time for me to contact the local paper? The city council? Who will be worthy enough of your attention to get this taken care of? Because I'm really not interested in paying several hundred dollars a month for your disinterest.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Health Nuts (and fruits, and veggies, and ...)
My friend Kit posted this link on her blog, and being both curious and in need of entertaining at the time, I followed it. How many calories does blog hopping burn, by the way? Because lately, that's the only exercise I get!
I got a kick out of reading the lists of healthiest foods, and realized that many of them are things I can at least tolerate...if not outright enjoy. My weighty issues are less about ignorance and more about application - I know what I should eat...and I even like eating the healthy stuff...I just don't apply that knowledge. Silly human. It's a fun site to poke about on, and while I was poking, I started thinking about the things we eat in this household.
Here's a breakdown, by category, of what I will eat versus what Bird, T, or J will eat (that I've seen, anyway - for all I know they're secretly eating healthy things when I'm out of the house...but I am doubting that). The list has (at my count) 139 items on it.
Vegetables (35 items listed): Me - 23, Bird - 12 to 13 (depending on whether they're cooked or raw), T - maybe 10 (if pressed), J - 1 or 2, maybe a third if I hide it in something.
Seafood (6 items listed): Me - 6, Bird - 6 (although sometimes he needs a little prompting, he's so visula about his food right now), T - 6 (he does love seafood!), J - 1, and only if it's battered and fried (oh, dear).
Fruits (21 listed): Me - 18, Bird - 14 (to be fair, some of the fruits he's never seen, since I don't care for them and thus do not purchase them), T - 1 or 2, fresh (every now and then I can get him to eat a fruit cup, but I don't really think of that as fruit, since it's been cooked and sugared into submission), J - 1 or 2 that I know of.
Dairy (5 listed): Me - 4, Bird - 4, T - 3, J - 1.
Beans/Legumes (12 listed): Me - 9, Bird - 4 or 5 (it's that visual thing again, and I won't eat tofu or it's kin, so he hasn't had exposure), T - 10 (I am giving him one more than me because he'll eat tofu...I think...), J - 0.
Poultry/Lean Meats (6 listed): Me - 5, Bird - 5, T - 5, J - 2 (a third if I mix it with something else). None of us eat liver. Just blech.
Nuts and Seeds (9 listed): Me - 9, Bird - 6, T - 7, J - 2.
Grains (10 listed): Me - 5 to 8 (depending on how they're prepared), Bird - 4 (but again, he hasn't been exposed to some of them, yet), T - 3, J - 0.
Spices and Herbs (18 listed): Me - 16 to 17 (depending on use/preparation), Bird - 14 to 15, T - 14, J - 0 to 3, depending on whether I cooked what he's eating.
Sweeteners (4 listed): Me - 3 , Bird - 3, T - 3, J - 0.
Other (3 listed): Me - 3, Bird - 1, T - 1, J - 1.
So of the 139 healthiest foods (according to this one list), I will eat a total of 105 various things. Not terrific, but nothing to sneer at. There were a number of things listed that I've just never had...but maybe I should try them sometime. There were foods that I love that weren't listed, but after reading the criteria I understand why. Bird will eat 54 of them...but he's only five, so I am kinda proud of him. T will eat 64 (hmm, maybe we need to work on that), and J will eat 14. Guess which one of us had a sextuple bypass two years ago??
I enjoy websites like this because they assuage my feelings of inadequacy, both as a mum and as a diner. I worry that our diet isn't varied enough, but then I see that we (at least, some of us) do consume healthy things more often than not. Bird will grow up with a well educated palate and (I hope) a sense of adventure in trying new things.
Perhaps I can shed my fifty-acre ass after all. T may live to see 50. I'm not holding out much hope for J if I can't get him to at least try more colorful foods. His food palate consists mostly of brown with the occasional red (Ketchup)...unless it's something artificially colored, that is. What, Froot Loops don't count as fruit??
I'd be interested in hearing your own breakdown of the list, if you feel like sharing.
I got a kick out of reading the lists of healthiest foods, and realized that many of them are things I can at least tolerate...if not outright enjoy. My weighty issues are less about ignorance and more about application - I know what I should eat...and I even like eating the healthy stuff...I just don't apply that knowledge. Silly human. It's a fun site to poke about on, and while I was poking, I started thinking about the things we eat in this household.
Here's a breakdown, by category, of what I will eat versus what Bird, T, or J will eat (that I've seen, anyway - for all I know they're secretly eating healthy things when I'm out of the house...but I am doubting that). The list has (at my count) 139 items on it.
Vegetables (35 items listed): Me - 23, Bird - 12 to 13 (depending on whether they're cooked or raw), T - maybe 10 (if pressed), J - 1 or 2, maybe a third if I hide it in something.
Seafood (6 items listed): Me - 6, Bird - 6 (although sometimes he needs a little prompting, he's so visula about his food right now), T - 6 (he does love seafood!), J - 1, and only if it's battered and fried (oh, dear).
Fruits (21 listed): Me - 18, Bird - 14 (to be fair, some of the fruits he's never seen, since I don't care for them and thus do not purchase them), T - 1 or 2, fresh (every now and then I can get him to eat a fruit cup, but I don't really think of that as fruit, since it's been cooked and sugared into submission), J - 1 or 2 that I know of.
Dairy (5 listed): Me - 4, Bird - 4, T - 3, J - 1.
Beans/Legumes (12 listed): Me - 9, Bird - 4 or 5 (it's that visual thing again, and I won't eat tofu or it's kin, so he hasn't had exposure), T - 10 (I am giving him one more than me because he'll eat tofu...I think...), J - 0.
Poultry/Lean Meats (6 listed): Me - 5, Bird - 5, T - 5, J - 2 (a third if I mix it with something else). None of us eat liver. Just blech.
Nuts and Seeds (9 listed): Me - 9, Bird - 6, T - 7, J - 2.
Grains (10 listed): Me - 5 to 8 (depending on how they're prepared), Bird - 4 (but again, he hasn't been exposed to some of them, yet), T - 3, J - 0.
Spices and Herbs (18 listed): Me - 16 to 17 (depending on use/preparation), Bird - 14 to 15, T - 14, J - 0 to 3, depending on whether I cooked what he's eating.
Sweeteners (4 listed): Me - 3 , Bird - 3, T - 3, J - 0.
Other (3 listed): Me - 3, Bird - 1, T - 1, J - 1.
So of the 139 healthiest foods (according to this one list), I will eat a total of 105 various things. Not terrific, but nothing to sneer at. There were a number of things listed that I've just never had...but maybe I should try them sometime. There were foods that I love that weren't listed, but after reading the criteria I understand why. Bird will eat 54 of them...but he's only five, so I am kinda proud of him. T will eat 64 (hmm, maybe we need to work on that), and J will eat 14. Guess which one of us had a sextuple bypass two years ago??
I enjoy websites like this because they assuage my feelings of inadequacy, both as a mum and as a diner. I worry that our diet isn't varied enough, but then I see that we (at least, some of us) do consume healthy things more often than not. Bird will grow up with a well educated palate and (I hope) a sense of adventure in trying new things.
Perhaps I can shed my fifty-acre ass after all. T may live to see 50. I'm not holding out much hope for J if I can't get him to at least try more colorful foods. His food palate consists mostly of brown with the occasional red (Ketchup)...unless it's something artificially colored, that is. What, Froot Loops don't count as fruit??
I'd be interested in hearing your own breakdown of the list, if you feel like sharing.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
A Random Meme
Chris over at Wat da Wat? tagged me for a Meme. If being tagged for Memes meant one had made it as a blogger, I'd be an "A" lister instead of dangling from the bottom of the blog chain!
Three Random Things
1. I laughed honestly and deeply for the first time in ages this morning. Not a giggle or a chuckle, but a full-on, all the way from my center laugh. That's what playing "Mommaconda catches the dinosaur" first thing in the morning will do to you. Gods bless small children and their fun.
2. Lately I have felt like I am barely treading water in the pool of life. What's scary is that I often feel like it's OK to go under. No. No, it's not. See number one for what keeps me floating.
3. I once wanted to be a nun...and sometimes still do. Yeah, yeah...
Thanks for the tag, Chris. You should know...if you tag me, I will answer...I have to or the world will come to an end. At least, that's what the little men under the bed told me...
Now, let's see who's paying attention. I tag Luci, Michelle, Kit and...Rachel. Y'all are it!!!
Three Random Things
1. I laughed honestly and deeply for the first time in ages this morning. Not a giggle or a chuckle, but a full-on, all the way from my center laugh. That's what playing "Mommaconda catches the dinosaur" first thing in the morning will do to you. Gods bless small children and their fun.
2. Lately I have felt like I am barely treading water in the pool of life. What's scary is that I often feel like it's OK to go under. No. No, it's not. See number one for what keeps me floating.
3. I once wanted to be a nun...and sometimes still do. Yeah, yeah...
Thanks for the tag, Chris. You should know...if you tag me, I will answer...I have to or the world will come to an end. At least, that's what the little men under the bed told me...
Now, let's see who's paying attention. I tag Luci, Michelle, Kit and...Rachel. Y'all are it!!!
Frozen, revisited
Remember this video?
I found the home page for the group - and they've done some really neat stuff!! Go look, if you want a way to spend the afternoon. They're called Improv Everywhere.
I found the home page for the group - and they've done some really neat stuff!! Go look, if you want a way to spend the afternoon. They're called Improv Everywhere.
Pfft, you were gone...
Y'all, I grew up watching Hee Haw with my grandfather, and I always loved it. This clip came my way and I laughed out loud and some of it. Since I believe in spreading the laughter...
Beltane
Meanwhile, perhaps I will find something to burn and roast marshamllows over, the closest thing to a real Beltane celebration I'll have this year. Sigh.
The Denny's Chronicles - Tales From the Other Side of the Tray
When I worked at Denny's, I had the overnight shift and usually worked the smoking section (smokers tipped better and were generally lower maintenance than non-smokers, so it was worth the constant respiratory distress I underwent, being allergic to cigarettes and all), but every now and then would cover some tables over in the larger non-smoking section, too. Usually when the other waitron was sleeping off his “lunch” on a booth bench in the back or we were short-handed (which happened a lot - even the wonder-waitress who liked to steal my tips was less reliable than a clock missing a cog)(please don't ask why a clock needs a cog...I'll feel even older). The non-smoking section was three times the size as smoking and had a few larger tables - big enough for ten or twelve people, if they were friendly.
We had a "banquet room", if you can call anything done at Denny's a banquet, but while I worked there the only thing that happened regularly in that room was the rolling of the silverware bundles - each server had to roll a certain number by the end of their shift or stay after to finish them. We worked on the honor system, but I think I was the only one who ever did all of them. I think this because I knew what a hundred bundles looked like, and no one else ever made a pile that size except the manager when he would hang out with me back there and talk racing while I rolled.
The big room also served as a napping place for one or more of us at any given time - nights could be terribly quiet, often only requiring one person to cover the whole floor, so if anyone was exceptionally tired they'd sneak off for a snooze. Some of the best (evil) fun I had was waking up another server when we got a crowd in. Muahahah...there are so many (evil) ways to go about that...
OK, so mostly I was nice, and would gently, quietly speak their name while placing a lovely hot cup of coffee on the table beside whatever padded bench they'd come to rest on...but every now and then...
There was probably also The Sex (thanks, Aunt Becky!) going on, too. Not me, mind you...at that juncture in my life, I couldn't have cared less about The Sex or men, but considering the rumpled state of a few folks exiting that room, one can only presume...eww.
Sometimes I would sit back in there and collect myself when I was angry, frazzled, or just bone tired. I was still suffering from the insomnia that landed me the job in the first place, and sometimes got only a few hours sleep a week. I'd read a few pages in whatever the current book was, drink some water (I didn't drink coffee when I worked...I didn't need my few poor wits to be any more scattered than usual), maybe eat a bite of French Silk Pie (who needs The Sex when there's French Silk Pie?? Even Denny's couldn't screw that up - they ordered it from a bakery) and then get on with my night.
That room was also where we counted our tips and filled out the claim form every night, so it was a hotbed of criminal activity - not one of us ever claimed full tips for taxes. We needed our cash more than the IRS did.
I liked my shift - it wasn't where the big money was (that would be the breakfast shift) - but it was all I could handle. Those morning waitresses impressed the hell out of me...I still don't know how anyone handles the rush that comes to a breakfast joint in the morning. The few folks I had to serve before seven were enough to make me glad to beat feet out of there when my relief came.
Our Denny's was situated off the 285 Atlanta bypass, on an access road - either Savoy or Cotillion (I always got them mixed up - they paralleled the highway). At the time I worked there, there was a hotel/convention center and a few businesses in the immediate vicinity, and some neighborhoods not too far away. It was considered part of the Dunwoody area - Dunwoody being an upscale, Georgia version of one step removed from Beverly Hills. Our Beverly Hills would be Buckhead, I think. Dunwoody is where the newly rich folks build homes. They're very well off, but not mega-rich, and they build big, flashy homes and drive expensive, flashy cars. Dunwoody is where all those executives move in and out as companies shift them from place to place...in fact, there was more than one corporate house scattered about when I lived there. I wasn't rich, by the way, just lucky to have an apartment in the shitboxes just across the highway from Dunwoody proper. I loved that apartment...
One night, I had a group of folks over from the convention center next door - ten or twelve well dressed, professional looking people (the men in suits with ties, the woman in dresses, low heels, pearls). They were polite, ordered quickly and without fuss. They didn't run me ragged, demanding extra lemon for their water, hotter water for their hot tea, pickles, catsup, napkins, or any of the usual high-maintenance crap. I thought it was going nicely, right up until it was time to pay the tab. They paid it, exactly. No tip. They proudly proclaimed that they were part of the bible convention next door, and for my tip they were going to pray for me. To give me something to hang onto besides cash, they were leaving me a pamphlet about how I needed salvation and how they could lead me there.
Y'all, I wasn't openly pagan at the time - I wore my pentacle inside my shirt and it's not like you could tell by looking at me, so these people were assuming that I was a sinner and that they were the ones to save me. In those days I didn't swear, I dressed ultra-low key or conservatively, and barely made eye contact with anyone. I may have been a mess internally, but I tried very hard not to let that show at work...people don't want a side of conflict mixed with misery with their scrambled eggs or Delidinger,*and I knew it.
I had to walk away or I would have wiped the smug, self-righteous looks right off their faces with a bent butter knife. I really, really wanted to tell them that they could go pray at the phone company and see if it paid my bill, or perhaps at the leasing office at my apartment complex and see if it covered rent. I also wanted to ask them if they were at all familiar with the phrase “theft of services”, and what exactly led them to believe my soul needed praying for anyway? but I just went back into the kitchen and then into the banquet room and waited until they left.
Can you imagine, they were crestfallen that I didn't dance for joy and embrace their necks for praying for my soul instead of paying for my service? They actually complained to the manager - not about my service (which wasn't bad at all, that night) but rather about my distinct lack of appreciation for their generosity. Barf.
I don't know how he kept a straight face as he listened with false sympathy to their plaint that I wasn't grateful to them for seeing to the needs of my tarnished soul. If he'd comped any part of their meal, I would have dumped a fresh pot of coffee in his lap...and I'm not a violent person!!
It wasn't just the tip they didn't leave me that ticked me off- it was the tips I didn't get from the tables I wasn't covering because I was seeing to their large group. It was the tip I'd have to claim even though I didn't get it, and the taxes I would have to pay despite never having the money.
The next night, when a similar group came in (with two of the people from the previous night), I let someone else have the table - the wonder waitress who liked to steal tips. What? She was Baptist, I figured she'd appreciate their "tip" better than I would. I had her best interests at heart. Really.
*If you never had a Delidinger, I'm sorry...it was possibly the best thing Denny's ever made (besides French Silk Pie, and they didn't actually make that), and I nearly cried when they discontinued it.
We had a "banquet room", if you can call anything done at Denny's a banquet, but while I worked there the only thing that happened regularly in that room was the rolling of the silverware bundles - each server had to roll a certain number by the end of their shift or stay after to finish them. We worked on the honor system, but I think I was the only one who ever did all of them. I think this because I knew what a hundred bundles looked like, and no one else ever made a pile that size except the manager when he would hang out with me back there and talk racing while I rolled.
The big room also served as a napping place for one or more of us at any given time - nights could be terribly quiet, often only requiring one person to cover the whole floor, so if anyone was exceptionally tired they'd sneak off for a snooze. Some of the best (evil) fun I had was waking up another server when we got a crowd in. Muahahah...there are so many (evil) ways to go about that...
OK, so mostly I was nice, and would gently, quietly speak their name while placing a lovely hot cup of coffee on the table beside whatever padded bench they'd come to rest on...but every now and then...
There was probably also The Sex (thanks, Aunt Becky!) going on, too. Not me, mind you...at that juncture in my life, I couldn't have cared less about The Sex or men, but considering the rumpled state of a few folks exiting that room, one can only presume...eww.
Sometimes I would sit back in there and collect myself when I was angry, frazzled, or just bone tired. I was still suffering from the insomnia that landed me the job in the first place, and sometimes got only a few hours sleep a week. I'd read a few pages in whatever the current book was, drink some water (I didn't drink coffee when I worked...I didn't need my few poor wits to be any more scattered than usual), maybe eat a bite of French Silk Pie (who needs The Sex when there's French Silk Pie?? Even Denny's couldn't screw that up - they ordered it from a bakery) and then get on with my night.
That room was also where we counted our tips and filled out the claim form every night, so it was a hotbed of criminal activity - not one of us ever claimed full tips for taxes. We needed our cash more than the IRS did.
I liked my shift - it wasn't where the big money was (that would be the breakfast shift) - but it was all I could handle. Those morning waitresses impressed the hell out of me...I still don't know how anyone handles the rush that comes to a breakfast joint in the morning. The few folks I had to serve before seven were enough to make me glad to beat feet out of there when my relief came.
Our Denny's was situated off the 285 Atlanta bypass, on an access road - either Savoy or Cotillion (I always got them mixed up - they paralleled the highway). At the time I worked there, there was a hotel/convention center and a few businesses in the immediate vicinity, and some neighborhoods not too far away. It was considered part of the Dunwoody area - Dunwoody being an upscale, Georgia version of one step removed from Beverly Hills. Our Beverly Hills would be Buckhead, I think. Dunwoody is where the newly rich folks build homes. They're very well off, but not mega-rich, and they build big, flashy homes and drive expensive, flashy cars. Dunwoody is where all those executives move in and out as companies shift them from place to place...in fact, there was more than one corporate house scattered about when I lived there. I wasn't rich, by the way, just lucky to have an apartment in the shitboxes just across the highway from Dunwoody proper. I loved that apartment...
One night, I had a group of folks over from the convention center next door - ten or twelve well dressed, professional looking people (the men in suits with ties, the woman in dresses, low heels, pearls). They were polite, ordered quickly and without fuss. They didn't run me ragged, demanding extra lemon for their water, hotter water for their hot tea, pickles, catsup, napkins, or any of the usual high-maintenance crap. I thought it was going nicely, right up until it was time to pay the tab. They paid it, exactly. No tip. They proudly proclaimed that they were part of the bible convention next door, and for my tip they were going to pray for me. To give me something to hang onto besides cash, they were leaving me a pamphlet about how I needed salvation and how they could lead me there.
Y'all, I wasn't openly pagan at the time - I wore my pentacle inside my shirt and it's not like you could tell by looking at me, so these people were assuming that I was a sinner and that they were the ones to save me. In those days I didn't swear, I dressed ultra-low key or conservatively, and barely made eye contact with anyone. I may have been a mess internally, but I tried very hard not to let that show at work...people don't want a side of conflict mixed with misery with their scrambled eggs or Delidinger,*and I knew it.
I had to walk away or I would have wiped the smug, self-righteous looks right off their faces with a bent butter knife. I really, really wanted to tell them that they could go pray at the phone company and see if it paid my bill, or perhaps at the leasing office at my apartment complex and see if it covered rent. I also wanted to ask them if they were at all familiar with the phrase “theft of services”, and what exactly led them to believe my soul needed praying for anyway? but I just went back into the kitchen and then into the banquet room and waited until they left.
Can you imagine, they were crestfallen that I didn't dance for joy and embrace their necks for praying for my soul instead of paying for my service? They actually complained to the manager - not about my service (which wasn't bad at all, that night) but rather about my distinct lack of appreciation for their generosity. Barf.
I don't know how he kept a straight face as he listened with false sympathy to their plaint that I wasn't grateful to them for seeing to the needs of my tarnished soul. If he'd comped any part of their meal, I would have dumped a fresh pot of coffee in his lap...and I'm not a violent person!!
It wasn't just the tip they didn't leave me that ticked me off- it was the tips I didn't get from the tables I wasn't covering because I was seeing to their large group. It was the tip I'd have to claim even though I didn't get it, and the taxes I would have to pay despite never having the money.
The next night, when a similar group came in (with two of the people from the previous night), I let someone else have the table - the wonder waitress who liked to steal tips. What? She was Baptist, I figured she'd appreciate their "tip" better than I would. I had her best interests at heart. Really.
*If you never had a Delidinger, I'm sorry...it was possibly the best thing Denny's ever made (besides French Silk Pie, and they didn't actually make that), and I nearly cried when they discontinued it.
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