Sorry about that last post. I wasn't really trying to be dramatic or anything, I just couldn't find words to say anything else. One of my former co-workers had a car wreck last Saturday night, and he was missing until his body was found (still in the car) Monday by another co-worker. He had gone off the road after hitting a puddle in rain and fog on his way home. Not certain exactly how old he was, but not more than 25. The whole thing is awful in so many ways and I haven't really found the energy to post since. I've been here several times, teed up and ready, but nothing would come. No insights or ruminations or remembrances- nothing. Just profound sadness and an odd feeling of disconnection from my friends. So yeah. I guess I'm back.

My parents were here for the week, and we did loads of fun touristy things. I took them to the Shelburne Museum, Neb and Jerry's, the cider mill, and several restaurants. We went to Montreal on Monday, which was very beautiful but the weather wasn't great (neither, apparently, is my father's ability to read a map or my mother's ability to operate a GPS) so we spent a lot of time in the car. There is a huge outdoor market where we got crepes and pastries (I had one made with dates that nearly brought tears to my eyes), and walked around feeling quite foreign. I knew that Montreal was largely French-speaking, but never having been anywhere out of the country (except for a ghastly two hours in Tijuana that I wish never to repeat) so I've never been in the lingual minority before. My podcast language lessons have lapsed, to put it mildly, so the only words I was able to understand were please, thank you, and most of the food words. I'm not sure how comfortable I would feel spending a long period of time this way, but for one day it was really cool. I'll post some pictures in a bit.
My parents departed for the Cape on Friday morning, and I have basically been either at work or asleep since. I'm off this evening, though, and hoping to spend some quality time with the b.h.

Okay, could people please stop dying now? Seriously?

So Jamie and the s.o. arrived while I was at work on Sunday. They came down to the bar with the b.h. and ate while I worked. It was great to see them,and my night went by very quickly.
On Monday, we went downtown and got a pastry and a cup of coffee, and set off on foot to see a bit of local color.
We went to the capitol building to get a quick pic of Howard Dean's portrait, and somebody walked right into the picture. Then a lot of other people followed, most of them wearing several pounds of medals on their chests. I guess this is what we mean when we use the phrase "top brass." It was a bit intimidating, honestly. I turned around to discover that the b.h. had wandered to the other side of the very large entrance hall, inspecting some more traditional portraits. Within moments, he was lost in a sea of very imposing and important-looking people. Eventually the parade ended, and a guide began describing some of the features of said hall to the guests. I kept seeing the b.h.'s head pop up over large shoulders of serious men, looking helplessly at us while we giggled and wondered what all the fuss was about. When he finally got back to us, he said he's forgotten that the President of Macedonia was visiting.
"I was totally being followed by the Secret Service," he grinned. It was a bit unnerving, but mostly hilarious. We could not have looked more innocuous, the four of us with fair-trade coffee and cameras, but it's nice to know that those guys take their jobs seriously.
We drove in to Burlington, walked on the lakefront, and got lunch at a great little Asian restaurant that I believe was called A Single Pebble. I'll try to remember to post pictures later, but right now I am on the couch surrounded by dog love and loathe to get up. After lunch we drove to Burywater, stopped by the casa del Jerry and Ben, took more photos, swung over to the Cider mill, ate doughnuts (fresh, hot, CIDER doughnuts- yum!) and then shot pool and ate dinner at The Alchemist. Man, I LOVE that place. We came back to the house and watched a couple episodes of Eastbound and Down, which they had never seen and we happened to have gotten from Netflix that morning, and then hit the hay early. We got up early on Tuesday, went up to Barre to thrift shop (I scored two pairs of $5 corduroys and a $3 J Crew sweater-woot!) and had lunch at the co-op up there. We also visited the Maple farm just outside of town and fed the magic goat. I had to work at four, but Jamie and the s.so and the b.h. came in for a late drink and a light snack, so again my night was lovely and smooth.
They left early on Wednesday, and I napped and then got up to do some laundry and wash some dishes. Tonight I waited tables in the main dining room for the second time. It went relatively smoothly and I made good money and got home about an hour earlier than I normally do as a bartender. The b.h. is feeling ill, which is a huge bummer because my folks will be here tomorrow and for the next week. We are planning a trip to Montreal on Sunday, and I hope the b.h. doesn't miss out.

I can't believe it's been almost a week since my last post. Time is a'flyin'. So I worked on Tuesday night, a double on Wednesday, and had Thursday off. We're busy trying to get the house in order, since our friends from Georgia arrive today, stay until Wednesday, and then my parents arrive on Friday. It would be easier if we were not smack in the middle of a season change, as well. I had to bring the Meyer Lemon tree inside, where it doesn't have a real home yet, and I've dragged out the winter gear as well. It all needs to be laundered, along with the guest bedding.
I'm looking forward to having some company, and the weather looks like it will be gorgeous (barring the thirty-something temperature tonight, of course). Yesterday I bought some flowers at the Farmer's Market, and today I'll shop for beer and snack food. What more could a guest want, right?
In other news, I have finally utilized the neti pot I bought months ago. It feels really weird, but so far my sinuses seem to have improved.
Hoping we get to the World's Tallest File Cabinet this week. If we do, I'll be sure to post pics so you can see the glory for yourselves.
For now, I'm back to the grindstone.

I had a big list of stuff I needed when I set out today. We're having friends up from Georgia next weekend, and my parents a few days after that. So there were linens to replace. Also, I am in dire need of work shirts now that I am a server, because the uniform is more specific. So black button downs were on the list. You'd be surprised how difficult those are to find and, in my case, afford. Sorry, but I'm not dropping fifty bucks on a shirt made in China that I am going to be wearing and washing and ironing a couple times a week while sweating and humping food and drinks around.
So anyway, I did a whole lot of shopping. Found most of what I needed, minus the shirts. I even scored some Halloween costumes for the dogs while I was at the Goodwill. Of course, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise, so don't bother. You'll just have to wait.
On the way home, I was once again marveling at this place. I was telling the b.h. the other day that whenever I have a day off and I'm driving around, I kind of forget that we actually live here. It still feels like vacation, mostly because I have never lived in a place like this and the beauty of it still strikes me every day. Lately, the air has been a bit more crisp at night, and the trees are starting to blush just a little with the colors of fall. Here and there, small trees have already completely changed. As I was driving home tonight, the sun was setting behind me and the mountains were bathed in sunlight, and all I could think about was how they will look in the coming weeks as fall sets in. I can't wait.
Found out the other day that there is a cider mill in Burywater, complete with cider doughnuts (a la Ellijay, GA). Also, there are many places to pick apples. Now that I am starting to meet some locals I'm finally getting the really vital information. I have also been looking into cranberries. There are bog tours in some surrounding states, and that's on my short list. I still haven't identified the berries in the backyard (sheer laziness, I promise you), but I can't seem to get enough at a time to make anything of them anyway. Ah, well. Se la vie.

I was on the way to work yesterday when I saw a large group of teabaggers staging a protest. It was surprising, but the best part was that they were getting absolutely no positive response. In Athens, those people would have had an equal number of cheers and jeers. Here they were just kind of annoying and disruptive. I saw a woman with a sign that read "I (Heart) Joe Wilson", and I leaned out my window and suggested she move to South Carolina right away.
In other news, I have been working a lot, but feeling okay about it. I trained as a server for a couple of hours on Thursday night. It was very, very slow, and I was being trained by a guy who is pretty lackadaisical, to put it politely, about his service. The next night I showed up to be a food runner, and was informed that not only would I be waiting tables, but that my section was larger than a normal one, and that I was not the only brand new server who was in this position. Uh... okay, I guess. And it was, for the most part. I was very, very busy, but for the most part I was able to give better service than I ever had at that last restaurant.
Yesterday we went to the farmer's market. I got some lemon cucumbers, apples, local bacon for the b.h., and we each got a slice of pizza. Mine had goat cheese, tomatoes, and kale, and his had fresh sausage and pears. I have no idea how much longer the farmer's market will go, but I love it and I will be there until it's dne for the season.
We went to brunch at the Local Restaurant this morning, since I had been alerted by a pastry student that it would be especially awesome this week. It was. The theme was French, and there was a Pacific Northwestern table as well. The b.h. loaded up on meat and fish, while I had an omelet, a sour cherry crepe, fresh fruit, various cheeses, and a couple of amazing mushroom fritters. We'll definitely be doing that again.
So I'm off to do some more reading, then iron my shirt and head to work again. I'm off tomorrow, so hopefully I can get the house in order. We're having company next week, and the dog hairballs are getting restless.

I really need to get to bed, but I wanted to say something positive after that last post.
Last night President Obama (those words still make me giddy with relief) made a fantastic speech on Health Care. If you didn't see it, you should. It made sense, and he took a stand, and it made me proud.
Now, if only that whole "logic" thing would get contagious...

I just returned from chasing Kilgore across the street. We went out for a walk, and I failed to notice The Neighbor's cat in our side yard. Having a less than vice-like grip on the leash, I of course lost it when he bolted. The cat looked momentarily smug (this has happened before) while he watched the leash unwind to the length at which KG is normally pulled up short, left barking and whining in my grip, but then his smugness turned to panic as the dog was suddenly on top of him. Luckily, he managed to get away, but unluckily he bolted across the street and ran behind his own house, with KG in hot pursuit, followed by his (now fully extended) leash and a clunking plastic handle, which was followed by Wyatt and me. I was yelling at the dog while also yelling to The Neighbor, trying to reassure him that KG would not in fact, eat the cat. When Wyatt and I finally arrived on the scene, Wyatt proceeded to squat and do his business right at the neighbor's feet while Kilgore raced around behind and under the house in pursuit of the cat. Eventually (this really only took a minute or less, but it felt like an eternity), Kilgore got his leash tied around enough random boards and posts and whatnot that he was stuck. I handed Wyatt's leash to The Neighbor, apologizing profusely and promising a quick cleanup, and then made my way as carefully as possible (wearing clogs, which we all know are fabulous climbing shoes) down toward Kilgore. The yard is at an impossible angle, so there is an immediate drop off beside the driveway that drops even further behind the garage. In between there are piles of dirt and ash, as well as ditches (I presume they were dug to help water runoff, or they were dug by water runoff) spanned by rotting boards, and various posts, old shutters, and the like.
What I discovered, much to my dismay, was that despite The Neighbor's constant attention to his lawn, driveway, and various and sundry mechanical devices (he is forever trimming, refinishing, and puttering), the place was actually a total mess, and very dangerous to boot. There was no way for me to even get around back there to figure out where the leash was stuck, much less to untie it and get the dog out safely. I could barely reach him at all, due to the aforementioned mess and the lay of the land up here on the steepest block in Vermont. After nearly breaking my neck and slightly injuring my already-sore ankle, I got close enough to unhook the leash from KG's harness, then grabbed hold of him and dragged him back to where The Neighbor was waiting with Wyatt and Wyatt's business. I switched Wyatt's leash to KG, and then hustled both of them back across the street, apologizing over my shoulder.
I opened the door calmly, still smiling, and then closed it behind us and proceeded to spank Kilgore harder than I ever have before. I then grabbed a grocery bag, ran across to collect Wyatt's mess, put it in the trash, and came back inside and sat down and cried. Is this what a nervous breakdown feels like?
I have been burning the proverbial candle at both ends this week, working early and then late and then early, then going to a meeting at the Local Restaurant after my other job yesterday, where it was explained to us in no uncertain terms that we were expected to wait tables as well as bartend. Some of you may be aware that this is not exactly good news for me. After the meeting I went into my the office of the Big Boss (at least, he's our Big Boss, but he has many bosses, if that gives you an idea of what I'm dealing with) to discuss this. The end result is that I will not only be working seven days a week henceforth, but that I will likely be working at both jobs on one or two of those days. This is not what I was hoping for. I thought that when I went from four jobs to two that I would actually have some time to myself. I believe I was wrong.
So presently I am out of coffee and minus one dog leash, and reporting to work in four hours to be be trained to do something I really, really don't want to do. Tomorrow I will work from 7am to 3pm, then go home and change and report back at 5pm for another job (food runner, which is a waitress that doesn't have to talk to the guests as much) I don't want to do. Then I will bartend on Saturday and Sunday night, and Monday- well, I don't know, because the schedule is not up at either job for next week.
But I don't work full time, so I don't have health insurance.

I went into a Local Resale Shop for the first time today. I was looking for some shirts that I can wear while bartending. Not having been to work, however, I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. So I'm standing there flipping through a rack when a saleswoman approaches me. She asks if she can help me, and I reply that I am just looking around. She engages me in conversation, wherein she discovers that I have never been to the store before.
"I'm not really great at fashion..." I say in reply, and am about to say that I have fun trying and that's why I'm there, etc. etc.
She looks me up and down and says "Well, we don't really have a lot of t-shirts. We do have jeans."
Awkward. And hilarious. And then she just keeps on keeping on, and she will not leave me alone. I can't figure out if she was flirting with me or if she thought I was going to shoplift.
I didn't find anything to buy, unfortunately, but they did have some cool stuff.

Whew. There was some stress in the past few days regarding my second job, but things are ironed out. I think I'm going to be working every day for at least a couple weeks, but that's better than not enough work.
The restaurant is getting better. We've just changed the entire menu, and are still in the middle of getting the wine/beer/cocktail list together, but I am feeling more comfortable behind the bar, so the rest of it will come together.
The best thing is that I am getting to see a lot more of the b.h., since he is no longer getting up before dawn. It's been great.
Missing the wedding of a very good friend in Chicago this weekend due to lack of time and funds. Crushing. I have actually been dreaming about it. But I'm sure i will get a full report from T, and there are always pictures...

Evidence.

"Please sign in, so we know how many corpses we're looking for if there's a car in the lot this evening."



Kilgore loves his new backpack. They say you should give high energy *cough* dogs a job to do.



Keep in mind that the camera makes them look farther away than they are. This one is right at the beginning, and they're not far ahead of us (maybe 50 feet), but are already much higher up.



Neato mushroom growing from a log.



At our rest stop. Wyatt's clearly had enough of our nonsense.



And here he is again, at his summit- about ten feet below the actual summit.



The view from the top.





Some other show-offs and their dog. That's Lake Champlain in the background.

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.