So I've just worked Friday night, Saturday morning, Saturday night, Sunday morning, and Sunday night. And on my day off?
"Let's go hiking!"
Perhaps not my best idea. There is a difference between taking a walk in the woods and hiking. Normally when I walk in the woods, I breathe deeply, enjoying the smell of pine needles and damp earth, and I move along at a reasonably fast clip, trying to keep up with Kilgore (dog of the long legs), as well as attempting to force Wyatt (he of the barrel-shaped body and corgi legs) to get some actual exercise. I occasionally feel tired after a walk in the woods, but I never feel sore.
Today we decided to hike the Camel's Hump. There are a number of trails in this park, and we picked the one that we thought seemed the most reasonable. Now, in hindsight I will say that the word "strenuous" which was featured prominently on the website about our trail should have given me pause. Unfortunately, I have learned (for the umpteenth time) today not only about hindsight (20/20! It's True!), but also about how the Theory of Relativity applies to distance.
So the Monroe Trail, which ends at the summit, is approximately two and a half miles long. This seems like a perfectly reasonable distance until you realize, possibly too late, that it is almost vertical. Hence, what would normally be a Zen-like stroll turned into a grueling and treacherous test of wills and knees. My deep breaths came only in the form of gasps, usually after either I or Wyatt almost bit it and went face-first into a chunk of boulder or sailing over the edge of a precipice that was too steep to look over. I saw no scenery on the way up or down, unable to see the forest for the wet, muddy, rock-filled (not strewn, mind you- this path was more rock than dirt) trail. My neck is killing me from spending so many hours looking down.
All the while we were being passed in both directions by smiling, fit Vermonters of all ages, many of them at least twenty years older than me. At one point the b.h. and I stopped to rest. After water and a snack, we were talking about how we were uncertain whether to go on. We had both been afraid to ask the people we passed who were on their way down how far we were from the top, but since we had already been going for two hours we figured we must be close. Just then, another couple came along the trail.
"I'd say you're close- what, honey- maybe a quarter of the way to go?" Her husband nodded in agreement. Neither of us wanted to turn back, because at that point not getting to see the view from the top after all that effort would have been too much to bear.
Forty minuted later we reached a clearing. There were signs for several different connecting trails, as well as the one to the summit, a mere .3 miles further. What we didn't know was that the last bit was the most grueling by far, and the scariest. People kept passing us and looking at Wyatt in wonderment.
"How did you get here?" they would ask him, knowing that he was obviously the smartest of the group.
"The real question is how he's going to get down," I would answer, trying my best to smile through the pain and fear.
In the end, Wyatt was unable to make the last climb, which was only ten or twenty feet from the summit. So I sat with him while KG and the b.h. went up. Sat, in fact, in a small puddle, which was just large enough for my entire ass to fit in it and soak thoroughly.
The view from the top was spectacular. Pictures to follow. I only wish it had been earlier and warmer so we could have stayed up there to enjoy it more. As it was it was getting dark on our way down.
The funny thing about the way down is that Wyatt was completely fearless, and outpaced me by a long shot. I eventually stopped worrying and took his leash off so he didn't have to wait up. The last hour of the descent was excruciating, and my knees, ankles and calves are still killing me, but I'm glad we went. The good news is that the boys have been sleeping most of the day. Next time I think we'll opt for something a little less strenuous.

Smack in the middle of two double shifts. Today was uneventful at the LHFS, except for an endless parade of screaming kids.
The Local Restaurant was iffy, at best. Second night in a row of barbacking (which is nothing like barebacking, except for feeling slightly fucked afterward) for a bartender who seems to have no clue what's going on.
Last night I worked with the Manager In Name Only, who is as spastic as she is sensitive, and so can never be asked what the fuck she is doing, even in polite terms. Everything is an insult to her. It's a shame I didn't think to just go ahead and insult her, since asking politely what exactly she wanted me to do set her off anyway. I know how it is to feel overwhelmed, but if you can't stop and think a minute when the proverbial shit hits the fan and figure out what you need help with, then I can't very well help you now, can I? Never mind that I tried to ask her at the beginning of the night exactly how she wanted to divide duties. There is tha bar, and then there is the Service Bar, where all of the wait staff come to get the drinks for everyone in the dining room. Under normal circumstances, one person serves the bar and the other the service bar, and you each back each other up as needed. This despite the fact that the bartender makes all of the tips from the bar and the service bar, and the barback gets a slightly higher hourly wage and only ten percent of the bartender's tips. I knew what I was getting into as far as the money, but I had no idea that she would run back and forth behind the bar like a bull in a china shop, making half of the drinks on a ticket and then running back down the bar to start (and never finish) another task. Needless to say it was quite hectic.
Tonight I worked with The Young and The Clueless, who is a sweet girl that has no business behind a bar (not even of legal drinking age). She wear chipped nail polish (against health code, which no manager seems to have noticed) and pronounces the J in the word "Jammon" on the tapas menu. It is not her fault, but it is horribly embarrassing. I am looking forward to being alone behind the bar tomorrow night. I don't care how chaotic it gets. At least i will know what the hell is going on.
All in all it has been good, though. There are people there that I can actually relate to, which is a dramatic improvement over my last restaurant job.
I will miss the "Local" Health Food Store, but I do look forward to the Farmer's Market and extra b.h. snuggling on weekend mornings. There are whispers of a road trip in the coming weeks. The b.h.'s birthday is coming up, and I think he'd rather have a bit of fun than anything I can wrap in a bow. We'll see if we can pull it off. I won't mention it now as I have no wish to jinx it.

Remember when bands made videos? I love this.

These are all over the yard and the woods behind the house. Does anybody know what they are?



This is what the berries look like.



They don't get any bigger than this. They taste like a cross between a raspberry and -well, something less sweet than a raspberry. I don't know how else to describe them. They seem to grow wild all over the place here. Hoping I can get enough berries to make some jam.

In other fruit-related news, the b.h. and I went and picked raspberries and blueberries today. Here are some shots of our haul:





The blueberry bushes were very sparse, but we were determined. We wound up with two quarts of rasp and one quart of blue. Also picked up a dozen eggs, three large cukes, and peppers, a few of which neither of us could identify.

This weekend, there will be pie.

There is a regular customer at the Local Health Food Store who has severe cerebral palsy, as well as extreme OCD. Consequently, he comes through with a shopping basket over one arm, launching himself from one set of shelves to the next for support, stopping each time to put his basket down and front and face product, then picking it up and launching himself to the next set of shelves.
It must take that guy a long time to shop.

Son of a motherfucking bitch. Ted Kennedy is dead, and I have no one to talk to and no cigarettes. I swear I thought I had two old stale ones floating around here somewhere.

Sleep is not likely.

Ahoy, Matey.



You should probably try some of this because it is very good. Also, it is pirate-related.

Tonight was my first solo flight behind the bar at the Local Restaurant. It wasn't a trial by fire, but it was certainly a trial by eight thousand fucking fancy fruity drinks. The hardest part was figuring out the computer system, actually. I had almost no customers that actually stayed to eat at the bar. The ones that did were very regular regulars that I had already met, and they were great. And I guess I impressed my boss to some degree. Basically the shit hit the fan in that place tonight, and rather than being available to me he was stuck in the kitchen expediting ttickets for over an hour, and when he returned I hadn't burned anything down, so things were fine. Again, I'm not saying it was pretty, but I worked it out.
The "Local" Health Food Store was pretty easy today. I wasn't really awake until about two hours into my shift, and since the weather was crappy I had many more customers than usual and spent a lot of my time doling out recommendations for wine and beer. Three more shifts and I am outta there. I will miss some of my co-workers, but certainly not the drive. After that I'm hoping to get some permanent shifts at the Local Co-Op.
Funny story about that, by the way. The manager in charge of Wine Related Stuff happened in to the Local Restaurant the other day. I did not know who she was at first, but I thought she looked familiar. Also familiar (even more so, actually) was the guy she was with. The guy asked for my boss. He was dropping off an application for employment. Co-op Lady recognized me, and mentioned to her friend that I was the one from Athens. And it turns out that he not only used to live in Athens, but he used to run a club next door to the bar where I worked for eight years. The phrase "small world" doesn't do justice to the weirdness here.
Anyway, I finally have some cash in hand and I also have a day off tomorrow. So I guess I will spend my day off paying some bills and doing some laundry and trying to memorize the ingredients for all of our ridiculous cocktails. Now to bed.

Starting to feel at home in the Local Restaurant. This was Night Three of my training, and I already know several regular customers and most of the front of house staff. It is good to be behind a bar again, honestly.
At the end of the night, for the third night in a row, we were visited by Chef Gerard, who is a Big Wig at the Culinary School. It seems he has a reputation for being, well, French. As in, crazy and irritable and kind of scary. So far he has been exceedingly friendly and often hilarious. Tonight he asked me where I had come from. I rattled off my usual abbreviated "Just arrived from" and "Grew up in" answer, with the addition of some more specific information about another French Chef I used to work for.
"I know eem well," he smiled. "Ee ees back een New Orleans now."
There was some further discussion about the restaurant in Chicago where I worked for the Other French Chef, and about why he left (and has now returned to) New Orleans. I actually think about OFC a lot. He was one of the best people I have ever worked for. Under shite circumstances, of course, but that's often where the best experiences happen.
"Small whereld," mused Chef Gerard.
Indeed it is.
At the end of the night he returned for a nightcap (Pellegr1no). He was in a good mood, having entertained some friends earlier, and he was very animated. Another Chef (The Tall One from yesterday's post), Peter, was there again, as well as a dishwasher named Todd. Peter was telling CG that the Dishwasher was really interested in learning to cook, and that he was thinking about going to Another Cooking School in Florida.
"They will take your money, and you won't learn sheet," answered CG without hesitation. "Guys come out of there, they don know wheech end of the knife to cut weeth."
"So where do you think he should go?" Peter continued, knowing the answer already.
"Ere, of course!"
Peter continued the conversation, telling CG that Todd couldn't afford it ("We will pro bebbly geeve you more scholarsheep than them anyway"), and showing him the textbook that Todd had taken out of the library, as well as a spiral bound notebook full of notes that he was taking.
"He isn't even in school, Chef. He just wants to learn."
CG took the notebook and flipped through it. The thing was half full already.
" I weesh I write like you," laughed CG. "No one can reed my writeeng."
He handed the notes back to Todd, basically saying that they could figure something out. Todd was obviously gratified. It was a great moment. I should say also that Todd is exactly the kind of guy I would hire if I were doing the hiring. He has made some tattoo-related errors, and he could use some help in the dental department, but he is polite and professional, and he busts his ass. Dishwashing is not glamorous, or easy, or even pleasant. But it is a good gauge of how serious a person is. And it is a job that is integral to the running of a restaurant.
As he was leaving tonight, I very quietly remarked to him that Chef Peter had done him a big favor. He ducked his head and smiled, a really big smile that made it clear that he knew what this could mean. I thanked him and went back to the bar, feeling as good for him as he probably felt himself.
When I returned, CG was holding court.
"I was een New York last wheek," he was telling Annie (My Trainer this evening) and Peter, and I see this beautiful black woman. I like woman, so I ave to talk to er. And she say, 'Culinary School? What's eet called?' An I tell er, and she say, 'an where ees that?' an I tell er, and she say 'Oh, I ave an old roommate oo work at one of dose', and I say 'really?' what's ees name?' and eets Peter!"
Annie was laughing out loud. CG had her at "I like woman," and the rest was just icing on the cake.
So far so good. I hope things continue to go well.

I nearly forgot! Last night's Customers of the Night:

1) A young lady with whom many people on the staff were obviously familiar. She looked remarkably like Sarah Vowell, which might be the only thing that kept me from choking the shit out of her for being a condescending cunt. The girl who was training me was, as I said, very sweet, and though she was not terribly well-spoken, did her best to convey certain facts pertaining to the Young Lady's order. The Young Lady responded by being simultaneously smug, condescending, and unhelpful. She talked on her cell phone at the bar, which I already find kind of grating (and rude), but the volume was preposterous and the subject matter- again, fucking smug. Trying to make a big show of her worldliness, she was. She even went so far as to question whether we had given her "real" B & B. Fucking seriously. As if we might have somehow mistaken the letters (and also as if she hadn't fucking watched us pour it from the bottle two feet away from her). Not to mention that if you aren't my dad, or at least my dad's age, do you really even drink B & B, much less critique it? Seriously? My Trainer was completely oblivious to the attitude she was being shown, and I didn't bother to point it out to her. I mean, why burst her bubble, right?
2) This guy wasn't even a customer of mine (er- ours. I was training). He came down after we had already closed and the only people in the bar were myself, My Trainer, and a chef whose name I have forgotten- I'll call him The Tall Chef for now. The guy was slightly inebriated, and loudly but politely asking to see a manager. I told him I would find the Manager right away, but as I was turning to go he started to tell me why he wanted to see The Manager. It seems that the man's waiter had spilled a beer in his lap.
"But I'm not even mad about that. No- I have worked in places like this before, so I know how things can happen. And he cleaned it up right away and he was great. And he got me another beer and everything. The thing is, my bill came-" he paused here, either for effect or to belch, I couldn't be sure-" and he charged me for the beer."
"I'm terribly sorry sir. I'm sure it was an error. We'll take care of it right away."
"No. He took it off the bill. He took it off before he ran my credit card. But the thing is, it should have never been on there."
"I'm sure it was merely an oversight. You know, accidents happen, and people get flustered. I'm really sorry that it happened. I will get The Manager."
Except I couldn't get The Manager, because I had no idea where he was or how to page him. So I asked My Trainer to. She made a couple phone calls.
"He's on a break," she said, loudly enough for the man to hear. (Remember the thing she did with the milk? Yeah.)
"But he's on his way here, right?" I said, looking at her and flicking my eyes at The Customer in a wink-wink nudge-nudge fashion.
"Uh... yeah. He'll be right over."

Luckily The Customer and His Wife were feeling celebratory. So I went on about my business, wiping down and cleaning up the now closed bar. The Tall Chef ordered another beer, and when The Customer noticed his chef's uniform, started chatting him up.
"Aw, man," he slurred. "You the chef?"
"I'm one of them," replied TTC.
"Aw, maaan," he slurred again. "The food tonight was eexlnt."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"Yeah, the meal was perfect. I have no complaints about the meal."
"Thanks," replied TTC, turning slightly in his seat in a useless attempt to close the conversation.

I can't remember the details of the conversation that followed, mostly due to exhaustion, but suffice to say that it was long and jovial, and we discovered that The Customer and His Wife (who was standing in the background smiling uncomfortably and looking at the exit the whole time, and who, it is worth mentioning, was never introduced or brought into the conversation by her new husband) were on their honeymoon, that they were congratulated by each one of us when he announced it (four times), and that by the time The Manager had returned (probably from smoking, but I don't know for sure), the guy was considerably deflated. In fact, The Tall Chef was in mid sentence when The Manager returned, and The Manager spent a minute or two poking his head around corners looking for an angry customer before one of us finally cut in and introduced them.
The end of the story is rather boring. The guy repeated his complaint several times, each time stressing that he didn't "expect anything," but that he "thought we should know" because he has "been in the business." What he got was a business card from The Manager and the promise of a free meal should they ever return. Thank the gods they live a few hours away. Hopefully we'll never see them again.

New job is pretty good so far. Humbling moment #1:
"You need a keg changed? Oh, I got it. You just have to be careful not to push down until it's all the way turned", I said, turning and not pushing down, "or you'll get sprayed", I finished, spraying myself completely with beer.
"Um... yeah. Like that."
Apparently the system at the Local Restaurant is different than the one I spent eight years with.

Moment of horror/hilarity: My trainer this evening, who is as sweet as can be, has not been doing this long herself. Going to make a cappuccino, she pulls out a half gallon of milk and, while pouring it into the pitcher, looks at the date and says loudly in front of the twelve or so customers at the bar "This is dated the 14th. It's the 17th, right?"

Actually, it was the 18th at the time. It was a "sell by" and not a "use by" date, but still breaking the rules according to the He@lth Dept. She then checked every other container in the fridge, and made a show of dumping them all out directly in front of everyone, while a whispered "Not out loud! Not out loud!" as loudly as I dared. Luckily the only guy at the bar who was paying attention thought it was funny.

I took the dogs to the river again today, and Wyatt was all Micha3l Ph3lps and everything. I'm very proud. If he continues to improve, I may just buy him a bong.

The b.h. was already asleep on the couch when I got here. He got up long enough to point out the tortellini and garlic scape pesto in the fridge and then promptly went upstairs and passed out. Now I'm having a Smuttynose IPA and enjoying some No Reservations to wind down. Tomorrow I work at the Health Food Store from 11 to 3, then the Local Restaurant from 4 to close again. So you may not here from me again until Thursday. Buenos Noches, amigos. I'm really going to have to learn to say that in French.

After getting crappy and then crappier news yesterday, I decided to go outdoors to distract myself and enjoy the weather a bit. It has been in the upper eighties and lower nineties for several days now, which is apparently what summer is supposed to look like here (as opposed to the constant rain we've been having for the last two months).
I put the dogs in the car and headed out to a local nature center. This one has a very large prairie, grown up tall with walking trails cut through, and is on the bank of a river. We walked around the paths for awhile, with both of them stopping every three feet to inspect the smells of the other dogs that had already been through. The field is full of goldenrod right now. I wish I had brought my camera (maybe today), because it hadn't occurred to me how much it would change as the summer wore on. Anyway, it was beautiful and not very crowded, and we all enjoyed ourselves.
By the time we got to the river we were all pretty sweaty. Despite the presence of a father and his two small daughters, we managed to get down the bank and into the water without too much ruckus. Because of the lack of rain, the river is quite slow right now, and low enough that even Wyatt (who stands 16 inches tall at the shoulder) could wade in without trouble.
Wyatt has never been a swimmer. His odd breeding (half corgi, half German Shepherd, we think) makes for a strange body type and legs that simply can't propel his barrel-shaped body very well. Also, the first day we got him from the pound, we thought it would be best to take him and Kilgore to the park so they could be introduced on neutral ground. That park also happened to be on a river, and since Kilgore is an avid swimmer he raced right in, and Wyatt followed right behind him and then had considerable trouble getting back out. The event obviously stuck with him, and ever since he has been more inclined to lie in wait on shore for Kilgore and then pounce on him as he emerges from the water.
Yesterday, though, I was able to convince him to walk in the river with me. I let Kilgore have a lot of slack on his leash (enough to swim around but not so much that he could play with the children), and focused on getting Wyatt to try swimming again. The river is really pretty in this particular spot, and clear enough so you can see where it gets deeper and how much deeper it gets. The boys wear harnesses rather than traditional collars now (more control and less choking, we've found), so I was able to use it like a handle (picture a fat, fuzzy, suitcase) and pull him through the deeper parts, his legs pumping and tail twisting furiously until he propelled himself (with my help) to the next spot where his feet reached the bottom. He was uneasy at first, but I think as he got used to it he liked it. Of course, I don't imagine him ever swimming on his own, because he was definitely listing, but it was good exercise and a nice way to cool off. I'm hoping to get back there today.

I start my new bartending gig this evening. Fairly certain that my days at the "Local" Health Food Store are numbered, because the restaurant wants me to work the same days that I already work over there. Hate to quit the LHFS, but I can't keep driving 40 miles each way to work 3 days a week. As for the new job, I think I may have mentioned that it's a nice restaurant and walking distance from the house, so I'm hoping it goes well. I'll keep you posted. Wish me luck.

Well, hell. It turns out that the man in question from the earlier post actually took his own life. Bad enough that he had died, but truly awful that he shot himself.
I hope he's better now, anyway.

Holy cow, I stayed in bed until almost nine today. Of course, I had to get up because KG jumped up and ran down the stairs, barking like mad, and then Wyatt got up and peed in the hallway, right in front of my bedroom door, so possibly sleeping in was not my best plan.
Anyway, we've all been outside and now I have a cup of coffee and I have checked faceb00k so I feel better. I got a message that somebody we knew in Athens died last week. I don't know how it happened or when, but I feel awful about it. He wasn't a guy we hung out with or anything, but we were regular customers at his job and he was just really, really great. I think if we were going out more regularly, and if he and his wife went out more regularly, we definitely would have hung out. But instead he was just a very bright spot in our errand running- part of what I miss about Athens and now a part that we won't have again. Sigh.
I have a few things to do today, including illicitly shipping some b33r to my former boss. After they receive it in GA, they will pack a box and return it to me with some stuff I bought while I was there.
Guess I will go have my day off now...

I got a text from my good friend T this morning. He had sent it at midnight (11pm Chicago time) last night, as Slobberbone was hitting the stage. His report included some of the songs in the set and the fact that he had managed to convert two more friends. Fuck I miss them. T, Slobberbone, and the converts. I really don't see myself moving back to Chicago permanently, but the idea that I could see my favorite bands more regularly is really intriguing.
I had a doughnut yesterday that the b.h.made in pastry class. It was delicious. He is enjoying school immensely, and I am reaping the rewards of his education daily. Earlier I had a chocolate eclair, and right now there is fennel being cooked in white wine on the stove. It smells amazing. Luckily I have managed to fit in a walk with the dogs every day since we've been back (it has been mercifully dry for most of the week), so I'm probably not in any danger of porking out. Yet.
Right now I'm drinking a Long Trail Double Bag Ale and listening to Slobberbone's Barrel Chested. Life is good.

**I nearly forgot the challah bread. Yep, he made that, too. And in somebody else's oven, so I don't even have to deal with heat or cleanup.

The week has gone by more quickly than i realized. I just figured out that it is Friday, which means that I get to sleep in until 8am tomorrow. Woo hoo! I may even watch some television, just to be crazy.
Honestly, I don't mind being up at 5:30 in the morning. The problem is the getting up. Once I am more or less awake and my face is washed, I feel pretty good. And I enjoy the Local Co Op job so far because I get a sense of accomplishment when we empty pallets and fill shelves and make everything look full and tidy. One of my co-workers is the Vermonty version of Kevin Sweeney, which some of you will find highly amusing, and his surly demeanor makes me feel right at home. Like K, he is actually a very nice guy, he just has no patience for bullshit. I can appreciate that. Anyway, there are several people with whom I work that I can see myself actually hanging out with, which is encouraging. My manager sent me on a task the other day with these words:
"You're going to be working with Sybil. I hope you are a patient person. If you have any problems, remember that she is not your boss and that she is not training you. You already know how to do the job. Come straight to me if there is any trouble."
I walked off to frozen foods with some trepidation. Sybil, it turns out, is not bitchy or bossy at all. Rather, she is a five foot tall bundle of eccentricity and clinical craziness that has worked at the LCO for many, many years. She laughs often and loudly, like Mrs. Krabappel on crack. She has several physical ailments, none of which prevent her from hopping up a ladder and hoisting boxes (many that outweigh her) over her head. The problem is that she repeats herself constantly and talks to me like I am a small child. I am fairly certain that this is more an indication of her mental capacity than her opinion of mine. In any case, we got through the frozen stuff without any trouble. I went back to my manager and he sent us over to do another section together.
"That should take you about two hours, and then it will be almost time for you to go," he said cheerfully.
Um- yeah. That was a long two hours. This morning I got wise and set myself to a task on the other side of the store from Sybil. I recognized the shattered look on the guy who she was partnered with today when I passed him at the recycling bin. I felt no guilt.

Well, that didn't go exactly as planned.
Our plane was delayed due to oil leaking from an engine. I have no problem with that. You know, I think when you're hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles per hour in a giant metal tampon you should probably have as much oil as you need for both engines to run properly. But the lady at the counter told us that our connecting flight was waiting for us, and it really, really wasn't.
We spent Thursday night not in Athens seeing Donnie play, but at the Westin in Baldimer. Had we known that we would be there in advance, it might have been fun, but instead it was overpriced nachos and two bottles of Sam Adams before falling into bed. They had scheduled us on a 1pm flight, but we got on stand by for the 6:40 am and were in Athens by 10:15. We ate at El Sol (now known as Senor Sol, but the food is exactly as we remembered it) and then went for a cup of coffee at D and S's house. D and the b.h. had to leave pretty quickly because they had booked recording time. I went out by myself for a few hours, and then met MT for supper at El Sol. Seriously. There are no Mexican restaurants in the Green Mountain State, likely because there are no Mexicans.
We went out early and met Jenn, Jamie, Shayne, and a bunch of other troublemakers for a few drinks. I was home late. The b.h. was already asleep.
We met his family for breakfast, then I went to get my hair did. I am gloriously blonde again, thanks to Shayne. After that we made a quick trip to Reed's Odds and Ends, then off to the rehearsal dinner thingie at Sandy Creek Park. It was hot. We met people. I wedged myself between the b.h.'s least favorite relatives and him and babbled until they couldn't wait to get away.
We went out again on Saturday night, saw The Heap at the Watt, showed the b.h.'s cousins a good time, introduced them to some of our friends, and went home earlyish. The wedding was lovely and hectic, and we got home late and got up early again to get to the airport. It was all as hectic as it sounds.
I worked my first real shift at the Local Co Op today. I got up at five-thirty. So far so good. Now I'm enjoying a Stone 13th Anniversary Ale and looking forward to an early night.

In 24 hours I will be in Athens, beer in hand, watching a rock show. I am absolutely giddy.

Let it never be said that I am too mature for amusingly shaped veg.

Saturday I worked a regular shift at the LHFS, and Sunday I did the same. Then I came home, ate a quick bite of the lovely meal that the b.h. had prepared for us and his friend Ben, who is our new dog sitter, and then gussied up and ran out the door for yet another job interview.
I had gotten a phone call from John Something, the GM for all of the restaurants at the Culinary School. After having spent several days playing phone tag (and trying not to seem desperate) with the manager of a Local Restaurant (one of those run by the school), I was relieved. It turns out he had gotten a different application that I filled out at another of their establishments, and he was impressed. He wanted to see me as soon as possible. Apparently I have not completely wasted my post-college years after all. So the GM got in touch with the Other Manager, who called me right away, and I set up an interview for 8pm last night. The interview was quick. Manager Dave finished up by saying
"Normally interviews last a lot longer, but you have a lot of experience and I've had a long week."
Score!! I start on the 18th. Meantime, I am finishing up at the Restaurant I Don't Enjoy and heading for Athens. I could not be happier. I now have four jobs. Last shift at the old restaurant is tomorrow (a double, of course).
Today was nice, for a change. I slept in (9;30ish), got up and went to the bank, bought some new shoes (for work), and when I came home I got a call that the b.h. was out of class early. Having only seen him for a couple hours this week, I was thrilled. We took the dogs to a park in town and went for a long hike in the woods. The weather was just awesome today. On my way to work, I got a call from my boss at the Local Health Food Store. Turns out he doesn't need me to come in on Wednesday, which means I have a whole day off to get ready for our trip.
Upon our return I start at the Local Co-op. Neat.
Don Chambers solo in Athens on Thursday. We should fly in just in time. No shows on Friday night that I am hell bent on seeing, i will probably check out The Heap at the 40 Watt late night after a few drinks with friends. Very excited.