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.

Goddammit this makes me homesick. Brilliant work, lovely song, and featuring not only one of my favorite clubs but also a favorite bartender. I'll be there in six days.

Yesterday was ridiculous. I got out of bed as early as possible before I had to leave to work a double, because I wanted to make sure and get the dogs out and give them some attention before I left. I have no recollection of the alarm going off at 4:30 when the b.h. got up, and didn't see him at all. So i took care of the dogs and inhaled a quick bowl of cereal and bolted out the door without any coffee.
When I got to the restaurant, Marge was there setting up. She asked me if I knew how to set up the kitchen ("I haven't seen you in so long I don't know what you know") and I said I did, so she went to water the plants and wipe the tables on the deck while I took out all of the things that I swore I had just put away a minute ago (It had actually been Tuesday night, but time flies when you are not at the job you dislike intensely). I went downstairs to retrieve some supplies, bidding good morning to The Boss Wife, who completely ignored me. Oh, that's right. She has been informed since I saw her last that I have given my two week notice. Hmm.
I ground through lunch, doing extra sidework and being asked by the manager every two minutes how I was doing. The funny thing is, had she done this on Monday night I would likely not have quit. Anyway, by the end of my second shift, I was starving and exhausted, and yes, I had some money in my pocket, but after twelve hours it should have been more.
When I got home the b.h. was already in bed, and I was wide awake and alone, not having had a single meaningful conversation all day. Luckily T was awake when I texted him, so he called me back and we chatted for a few minutes. I woke up when the b.h.'s alarm went off this morning, just long enough to say hello and get a good look at him before he was off to class. Three more shifts.

http://michael-kimball.com/blog.php

http://www.onpointradio.org/2009/07/dave-eggers-zeitoun

I am having yet another bout of insomnia. I seem to fall asleep for about 45 minutes or an hour every night, and then wake up like a vampire on a day pass. I have no idea why. Anyway, I was just effing off over on faceb00k and saw that Jamie had posted this little gem, with a special shout out to yours truly, as I am such a fan of the word. She's so thoughtful.

*Fair Warning: If you have never worked in the service industry, a lot of this may not make sense to you. And even if you have, all Iam about to do is bitch, so you may want to skip this whole post.

Quitting. For real.
Tonight I was in a section that had eleven tables. All of them have at least four seats, and several of them have six. The waitress who has the most experience who was working tonight had eight tables, and three of them have only two seats each. The manager was new. But she also knows that I am new, since we trained at the same time. Now, I may not be an expert, and I certainly have never run my own restaurant, but it seems to me that when you have a very busy place you should consider having a busboy or two.
At this restaurant, the waitstaff is responsible for taking orders, making all non-alcoholic drinks, putting together soups, salads, and some appetizers, firing each ticket, delivering food, delivering the check, taking payment, running a credit card or making change, removing all dishes and trash, wiping the table down, sweeping the floor (when there have been children, which is often the case), wiping it down with sanitizer and re-setting the silverware.
I was triple sat twice in fifteen minutes, and then the new manager/hostess was scolding me for not clearing my tables. I was already on the verge of snapping, and then another waitress came up to me and said "This is exactly what happened last Monday!"
That was the point at which I decided I was done. Because apparently these people do not learn from their mistakes. Or maybe they just don't care. I however, am incapable of feeling good about giving less than good service.
On the bright side, more lessons in How Not To Run A Business.
Thank the gods for Dogfish Head Squall. I was smart enough to put one in the fridge earlier.
Now I'm going to watch Ugly Betty and try to forget the night.

T left on Friday, and I headed to work at the restaurant. I always feel a sense of impending doom as I am driving there, but I usually snap out of it once I get going. I still don't like it, but I am able to tuck my soul away in a the corner of my bag while I slug it our for five hours or so. This was easily my best night so far, with almost no mistakes. It was also the least busy, so I didn't make much money. This may have been partially due to the fact that they had a "band" playing, as they are wont to do on a Friday night. The woman and her husband play "hits from the sixties, seventies, and eighties," accompanied by a guitar and a guy who sat at a table eating dinner next to them and performing the more-than-occasional solo on harmonica. I do not, in theory, have a problem with any of these things. I do, however, feel that people who go out to dine with their families on a Friday night might not want music blaring at them from the next room.
The Boss Wife has some rules which I find baffling. We are supposed to use a tray to carry food to table, even if there are only two plates and it would be easier and less dangerous to simply carry one in each hand. Her reasoning is that "This isn't a diner," which I believe means that she thinks using a tray is classier. I have two issues with this logic (probably more, if I took the time to think about it): One, when you carry the tray. you have to set it down before you remove plates from it anyway, and sometimes you are setting it down out of sight of the tables, so all they see is the waitperson carrying the plates anyway; and Two, we accept fucking coupons. Various kinds of coupons, discounts, frequent diner cards, and two-for-one deals, which again, I don't have a problem with in theory (Actually, that's a lie. The food is way too expensive and we should lower the prices and leave them that way, thereby eliminating the bullshit involved with handling and processing these various "deals" during a busy shift), but you can't act all hoity-toity about your establishment and then ask diners to pick a card from a deck and possibly win five dollars off of their bill. Seriously. Like we don't have enough to deal with just trying to time the food, drinks, and payment for multiple tables.
So I'm kind of over that place, in case you couldn't tell. Another problem is that we have satellite radio streaming in the dining room, and the Husband Boss always wants it on the same station, which includes various "hits" from the nineties through now, and I hear the same songs, every single night. The ones I recognize I already heard ad nauseum during my stint at the Sports Bar in Chicago in the late nineties- you know, V3rtical H0rizon, The G00 G00 D0lls, 3 D00rs D0wn, etc. The new stuff is even worse, because it seems as if most of them are just ripping off all the same people. When I ask a co-worker "Who sings this?" I almost always find that it's a "winner" from that fucking "Merkin Id0l" show. Ugh. That plus the three large screen teevees, one of which is always flashing the latest paranoid fantasy from F0X "News", and you can see why it's difficult for a woman to wind down at the end of the night. I have been sleeping like crap (except for the couple nights when T was here and we just talked until we almost dropped anyway).
The good news is that I got a call last week from a nice Local Restaurant. This place has actual bus people, food runners, and a sense of decorum (we ate there with T on Wednesday). Also, there are no teevees is the dining room. I called that guy back on Friday, and I am waiting a call from him.
Since my car is about on it's last leg anyway, I need to get a job that I can walk to. I had to buy a new tire on Thursday, which was much less difficult than it could have been. I actually bought a used one, so it was under forty bucks. Got it done up in Barry at a tiny shop. They had me in and out of there in about fifteen minutes, so T and I still had plenty of time to get to the Shelburne Museum.
So this week I have Restaurant, Restaurant, a day of orientation at the Local Food Co-Op, potentially a half day that evening at the "Local" Health Food Store, then two doubles at the Restaurant, then a full day (maybe two) next weekend at the Local Health Food Store again.
Which means you may or may not be hearing more from me this week. Try to survive.

Young's Double Chocolate Stout and Snyder's of Hanover pretzel rods. I have some renta teevee to watch, but right now I am enjoying the sound of the rain outside and the relative quiet inside.
It has been a busy week. T arrived on Tuesday while I was at work, and he and the b.h. had dinner together at a fancy-ish place in town. I brought home a veggie burger and fries for myself, plopping on the couch on my arrival and announcing to T that he was going to have to do the talking while I inhaled my dinner.
He did, and it was amusing. T and I are the same age, and he has some issues, shall we say, with the ladies. It seems that he has a feast or famine kind of problem, and th past three years have been far more of the latter than the former. Until about two weeks ago, when multiple women came crashing into his life from various directions. The one he seems most inclined toward is fifteen years younger than us, which is all very amusing. So his story was plenty long enough for me to finish eating, and I think I was likely through my first beer and cigarette by the time he was through. (Though I am not a real smoker, I have a tendency to binge on occasion, those occasions usually occurring when I am either on vacation or hosting a smoker on theirs).
We stayed up until about four, and just as we were both starting to wind down, there was a short bark and Kilgore went crashing into the screen door, which he somehow managed to go through without breaking despite the fact that it has been latched. It was dark in the porch, and it happened so fast that I wasn't even sure he had gone out. I went over and felt at the door to see if he had gone through the screen, and when I saw that he hadn't, I stood up, puzzled, and called his name. I heard him in the yard, and when I unlatched the door he came flying back through it, all foaming at the mouth and rolling around rubbing his head on the floor. Just as we were trying to figure out what the hell had happened, the smell hit us.
I thought something was on fire. It smelled like burning plastic, and I flipped on the porch light and picked up the ashtray, looking all around the table for something melting. No dice. The dog was still foaming at the the mouth a bit, so I went in the house, an him upstairs, ordered him into the shower, and rinsed his head and mouth thoroughly with warm water. Then we all went to bed.
The next day, T and I were on our way into the house from the car when my neighbor John came up the drive.
"Just wanted to warn you in case you walk your dogs at night. There is a new family of skunks in the neighborhood."
"You don't say." I explained the incident from the previous night.
"Well, that explains the dead one I found in Wes and Linda's yard."
I guess it does. Last night T and I and the dogs were out on the porch again late into the night. At one point, unnoticed by either dog (Wyatt was snoring and KG was loudly chewing a rawhide bone on the other side of the room), something scratched at the screen door. I got up slowly, leapt over to it, and shut it as quickly as possible. There will be no skunk retribution on my watch.

Customer of the Night #4592

They sat outside. It was fifteen minutes to closing time. I went out with some menus. He was wearing oversize glasses and a white, wide-brimmed hat. Had he opened his mouth and revealed a blue-blood Southern accent, I would not have been surprised. He didn't. Who does he remind me of?
"Always gotta have somebody come in late and be a pain in your ass," he smiled.
Kurt Vonnegut. That's who he reminds me of. I waited in him in Chicago in 1997. It was awesome.
"You're fine," I smiled, and I was mostly telling the truth. I had plenty of sidework left to do, so why not make a few more dollars in the meantime, right? They ordered cocktails, and the women each had a snack. They were nice, and funny, and chatty, and it was a great way to end the night. They asked me where I was from (lots of people do when you refer to them as "y'all" up here), asked where I was living, recommended some restaurants. And then he told me a secret: There is a back route from my house to Burywater, where I work. This is huge, because the restaurant is on a very small highway in a very touristy area, just a stone's throw from Neb and Gerry's Ice Cream. I thanked him profusely for the tip, adding that should he feel a warm feeling tomorrow at around 4:45, it would be love I was sending him while not sitting in traffic. The traffic has been pretty crappy already, and due to the incessant rain, this tourist season has reportedly been light. So you can imagine what it will be like in the fall.
They hung out for awhile, and I learned that they are regular customers. That makes me happy.
Yesterday I decided it would be a great idea to take one of our area rugs outside and wash it. Turns out I was totally wrong, and now it shows no sign of drying any time soon, and it's probably going to smell worse than it already did. Ah well. Live and learn.

"Are those the customers from hell?" asked my boss The Wife, from behind the line in the kitchen. All I had done was punch in an order for mozzarella sticks with extra marinara.
Crystal, the other waitress, nodded, grimacing.
"Make sure you go with her to take their order," she said, gesturing at me and shaking her head sympathetically.
When they came in the front door, the man went immediately over to the hostess stand, which was empty at the time, and grabbed himself a stack of napkins. I rushed over and asked if I could help him, explaining that there would be place settings on the table.
"I always grab extra," he replied, making his way without invitation to a table in my section. The hostess was nowhere in sight. I grabbed a pair of menus and followed him and his wife.
"Can I bring you a beverage to start with?" I was trying my best not to sound the way that I felt. He immediately blew out and dismantled the candle and holder, leaving the pieces separate and lined up against the wall.
"She's going to have the house Chardonnay, and I want unsweetened iced tea, with extra lemons and an extra glass of ice."
Oh. I see.
So you can imagine that it was no surprise to me when The Wife Boss called them the Customers From Hell. I suppose I was kind of surprised at her volume when she said it, given the fact that she knew they were seated about five feet from the kitchen door. It made me like her more.
They ate overcooked burgers with overcooked bacon on top. He wanted no bread with his, but ordered rice on the side(?). He wound up finishing her french fries. Whatever.
After work Amy, the hostess/manager asked me how I was doing. She seemed eager to encourage me, worried that I wasn't going to stick it out. She's kind of right, I suppose. I mean, I interviewed for a full time gig down the street last week, and if they offer it to me I will take it. Health Insurance and all, you know. But I will probably have to continue waiting tables anyway, for the money. I just hope I am able to get some sleep soon. I have this problem, which has happened before when I was a waitress, where I go to bed and my mind races, and just as I'm falling asleep something will jar me awake and I suddenly find myself in a panic, my mind racing.
"Shit! Did I forget that guy's side of mayo?" And so on. I don't know if other wait people do this, but it has plagued me for my entire adult life. Even after I hadn't waited tables for years. Some people have dreams that they are back in school and they have a test and they haven't studied for it and know they are going to fail. I have nightmares that I keep getting more tables and I can't keep up. I'm hoping that the rise of high-gravity beer will help me through this time.
The Local Health Food Store is still a mixed bag. My boss has no organizational skills whatsoever, and also seems to be burned out, so it seems unlikely that it will get any better. On the other hand, in addition to a nice discount I am able to take home a whole lot of free food every week, so I feel compelled to stay on there at least one day a week- unless of course I get this other full-time gig, in which case I'm going to have to quit. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but the Local Health Food Store has a program where they allow employees to take food that is unsellable (for various reasons- bruising, effed up packaging, one day past the sell by date)for free. And there is always a lot of it. Last week I brought home two whole local organic chickens. Saturday I brought home two local organic pork chops for the b.h., as well as a couple pounds of local, organic, grass-fed beef. I also snagged a couple pounds of local organic zucchini and crookneck squash, a bunch of organic broccoli, a bunch of organic asparagus, and a large package of local organic romaine lettuce. On top of that I got a few small containers of organic rice pudding and some local organic ricotta cheese. All for free. So yeah- I'll be hard pressed to give that up.
Looking forward to a visit from my good fiend T this week. He should be arriving tomorrow evening while I am at work. Luckily I have managed to get Wednesday and Thursday off, so we will have plenty of time to goof off. The list of visitors and potential visitors keeps growing. I love it. I may be gone a couple days, but will hopefully have some good photos of Random Weirdness when I return.

We both had the day off on Tuesday, so the b.h. and I packed up the car and the dogs and headed for the coast. We stopped for gas and food in Lebanon, NH. Got a really fantastic sandwich at a health food store . Rosemary bread with brie and fresh veggies that tasted like they had just been plucked out of somebody's garden. I also picked up some beers that I hadn't seen before. More on those when I taste test.
The weather has been so unreliable, or rather, reliably crappy here in the green mountain state, so we decided to make our way to the ocean where the weather promised to be a bit nicer. A bit. We got to a place that was billed an "Urban sanctuary", with gardens and hiking trails and a pond where the dogs could swim. It was colder than I had expected, but not too cold for mosquitoes, which were abundant on the trails. Also, the pond in question had no real shore. It was up against some salt marshes, so the shoreline was crammed with reeds and tall grass and unsteady rocks and sea weed. Swimming was an option only for KG. The rest of us stood on the shore being eaten by bugs.
We left there and headed for Portsmouth, where we found a dog store, picked up a backpack for Kilgore, and walked around as long as Wyatt would allow us to. We went to the ocean and found a leash-free area to run the dogs. When I unhooked Wyatt he turned and ran immediately toward the car, much to the amusement of a pair of older women who were leaving the adjacent parking lot. He was pretty much over it. Kilgore found half of a dead crab and ate it before the b.h. could get it away form him. Then he had a scuffle with a husky and it was time to hat up.
We drove up the interstate into Maine, then headed out Highway one to see the ocean. It was chilly, so there were very few tourists, but it was beautiful. We drove around until we found a restaurant with outdoor seating. The b.h. got some fried scallops and clams, and I settled for a grilled cheese and fries. Had the weather been warmer, we probably would have stayed, but it wasn't in the cards.
Ah well, it was nice to get out of town.
I also got a call that morning about yet another job. I am considering swapping my Health Food Job for this one, because it is about 25 miles closer. Won't know until I hear back about the interview I had yesterday, for something full time that's about a two block walk. This is all very frustrating and stressful and I look forward to being done with it. So many things to consider...

I just looked at the website for the Brewer's Festival next weekend. The lineup looks awesome. I want to go, but I don't want to go alone, and it would be logistically near impossible to get the b.h. to go with me. Feck. I wish I knew more people here.

Wednesday I slept in, did some dishes, read some Infinite Jest*, and then went off to Burlington for a wine tasting with my boss from the Local Health Food Store.
We were meeting with a rep from a particular distribution company. Their office is located on the lakefront, which made me incredibly jealous. So we went into the tasting room, and there were about twenty or so wines laid out on the table. This was a few more than I was expecting. Luckily I had eaten before I left the house.
I took some notes, fell in love a few times (with the wines, of course), and then about halfway through another salesman came into the room, carrying a cooler bag and followed by a two-year-old, 100 pound Great Dane puppy. He had more wine in the bag. Italians. They were fantastic. I have never been a big fan of Italian wine, but mostly out of lack of experience. After we tried all the stuff in the bag he went in the back and got out a '99 Barolo that was absolutely divine. So what I had thought would be an hour or so turned into four, and I was surprised to find it was still light out by the time we left.
I had been very careful to spit most of the wine and so did not feel at all drunk, but still thought it was a better idea to get a bite to eat before making the 40 mile drive home. At the suggestion of my boss and our rep, I joined them at a hot new restaurant called The Bluebird Tavern. When I agreed to do this, I had no idea just how hot and how new this place was. The wait was long and the kitchen overwhelmed, but the atmosphere is really pleasant so I didn't mind that much. I got to meet the owner, and the more my boss and the salesguy talked to the people around us, the more I realized just how small Burlington really is. It seems like a great place. The food was great, though the menu really made me wish that I were a meat eater. Again, it was four hours later when we came outside, and this time it was not light.
Thursday morning came very early, and I worked for nine and a half hours again- still training, so again with no tips. That's getting really tiresome. Friday I didn't have to be there until five, so the b.h. and I took the boys and went down to the river and goofed off for awhile.
I got to work early, trained again, had an insanely chaotic night that lasted an hour and a half longer than it should have, and learned that when people here use the term "fucking Canadians" they are not being racist (a note on this link- Northern racist assholes use this term too). They really mean Canadian. Apparently Canadians are notoriously bad tippers, and also have a reputation (at least in this restaurant) for making you run a lot. I'm sure that I will have an opinion on this at some point, but right now I'm just happy to have a job and eager to get to making some real money. Even with several crappy tips, the girl who trained me walked with more than twenty bucks an hour. I think I'd be okay with that.
Anyway, today was boring and I left the NFS early. The weather looks ominous again so I am likely relegated to reading this evening, which is kind of disappointing.

*This is not as far as I have ever gotten in the book, but it is the farthest I have gotten in such a short time. I took this picture just for encouragement. In a week I'm hoping that those bookmarks will have moved a lot. I started way behind the people that are reading the book together online, so i am still trying to catch up.

I worked eleven and a half hours on Tuesday, training first with Marge, who has been at the restaurant for twelve years. Marge is a big, matronly, sweet (so far) woman of indeterminate age. She is a total pro as waitresses go, and I was glad to be learning from her. The day crawled by, but we were busy enough and had I actually been making tips I would have done well, so it was encouraging.
I also met the owners. The Male Owner, or Husband, was friendly enough. He introduced himself to me and shook my hand in the morning and then pretty much effed off and left me alone the rest of the time. The Female Owner, or Wife (bull dog), works in the kitchen. She talks to people like they are children. She likes to make you go through the motions with certain things.
An example:
"Heybartender, I want you to come back here (through the busy kitchen and into the dish room, in the middle of a lunch rush when I am waiting on seven tables) so you understand why I don't want you to fill the bus tub too full. See that? See how awkward that is?"
"Is this too full?"
"No. But this is why we don't want it too full."
"Okay."

Yeah. She's great.


That evening I trained with Chris, who might also be called Pat. Chris has a particular way that she likes everything done. She likes to think of it as "The Right Way," even though she realizes that she has OCD and that she is "anal." I made a mental note to try and do everything her way just so I don't have to have a conversation with her about any of it ever again.
Training with Chris was easy, other than the OCD thing. She actually treated me like I had a brain and social skills, and therefore I learned and I made her a shitload of money. So eleven and a half hours later, I headed home, having had one 15 minute break all day, and walked in the door to find that the b.h. had not only made my favorite- fennel with white wine-, but had also picked me up a bottle of that new Dogfish head Squall beer. That guy.
And now I am off for yet another minimum wage "training" session. Got a call this morning from the Local Health Food Store, this time one that is actually local. Have an interview next Wednesday morning. Later I will tell you all about yesterday's Marathon Wine Tasting. TTFN.

11 1/2 hours of work, and 9 1/2 hours of sleep. Oh Service Industry, you knew I couldn't stay away. That's right people: A new job, and a whole new cast of characters.
Roger was the waiter who trained me. Roger is somewhere around fifty, and he wears an (unironic) earring and mustache combo that would have identified him as gay were we still in the eighties. I don't think he is gay, or if he is he doesn't know it anyway. He is, however, a total bitch. He was nice enough to me, but his interactions with the other servers were less than pleasant. He would tell me something about how to push desserts, or how to close a check, and then follow it with
"Because you are concerned about your money first."
It got to the point where we were playing the game, you know, where he would start the sentence, and then look to me to repeat that phrase back to him. I played along, because it was just easier. Many of the things he told me were either hilariously obvious or completely misguided. In column A, we have these gems: "Be nice to the kitchen, because if you take care of them, they'll take care of you." "Be nice to the bartender, because let me tell you, they are under no pressure to make your drinks first. And we can make your life very easy or very hard when we're back there." (He said that when he told me he was rounding up the bartender's tipout by fifty cents.)
He also explained to me a very complicated system he has for the order of service of the people at a table, based on their ages. He described it as "proper etiquette" having earlier mentioned his former job at a resort in Stowe. Now, don't get me wrong. I know that these things are very important sometimes. I know that it is best to serve the elders in a party first to show proper respect, but this is an establishment where people use fucking coupons. And frequent diner cards. And get a discount on their birthday based on their age. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I'm not sure that they give a shit about who gets their basket of hot wings first, you know? I asked him some questions about shifts and what time they were usually over and how much I could expect to make. At first I was dismayed by his answers, but then I realized that he was likely making a lot less than everybody else, despite his "proper etiquette," due to his "shit attitude". Yeah. Can't wait to work with that guy again.

59 degrees.
July 4th.
That is all.

Even though we missed Athfest this year, the b.h. and I have been listening to several of the shows, which were recorded by our friend Sloan. This is making me quite happy. It will make you happy, too. There's another link over there to your right. Enjoy.

*Beep*"Hi, you have reached hey bartender. I am sorry I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number after the beep I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!"
*Beeeeep*

"Uh, hi Heybartender this is J- with the New Mobile Phone Store. I met with you yesterday about a job at the New Mobile Phone Store. I just wanted to let you know we decided to go another route. Per se."

You don't say.

I was reading one of my favorite political blogs (the snarky one I read to make me laugh after I read all the real and depressing shit) yesterday, and they provided me with a link to this. I am very happy about this, because I have tried on multiple occasions to slog through Infinite Jest. I really enjoy the book, but I usually read in bed, and since that thing is the size of a New York City phone book, I always ultimately put it aside and never get back to it. (One of the many reasons why I am impressed by Jamie is that she has read this book twice.) As it happens, I have more time on my hands these days, and what with this whole thing being organized by somebody else, I think I might just give it another stab. If anyone else would care to join me, I am certain that having a person I know to talk ("talk")to about it would help. It's just a thought.
Anyway, I'm off to print out the schedule, and dust off that copy...
Wish me luck.
Incidentally, I got a call back from the New Mobile Phone Shop. I didn't get the job.
P.S. The new Dogfish Head limited release beer is currently rocking my world.

I got up early, ironed my best shirt, (that would be the clean one that has no stains on it), fussed with my hair, gulped down some coffee, brushed my teeth, and headed out the door. I actually drove to the interview, even though it was only half a mile away, because I knew if I walked I'd be sweating like a whore in church. Or it would rain. Or both.
I walked in to the New Mobile Phone Shop, which was still being put together. There were men outside on ladders fiddling with a sign. There was product all over the floor, and two guys in khaki pants and polo shirts with the New Mobile Phone Shop logo on them.
"Hi, I'm looking for Mr. Mobile Guy?"
"Are you heybartender?" he asked, extending his hand.
"I am." I reached for his hand and shook it.
"We'll be talking over there," he said, gesturing in the direction of four dirty gray cloth-covered chairs sitting against an institutional gray wall.

I sat with my back to the wall, facing him. Behind him was the only decor in the room- a very large poster of a very satisfied Mobile Phone Customer, pretty and ethnic and smiling, standing in front of a tree. We talked for a while. He had a copy of my resume in front of him. He asked me about my job at the Local Liquor Store, about the Rock Club, and of course, the Big Stupid Box Store. We talked about customer service, about my scheduling needs, etc. I was doing very well. I knew it. I was relieved. Then he asked me if I had any questions.
Pay? Minimum wage. Plus commission, of course. On stuff that you sell. The ad on cr@igslist said that the average pay was $32,000. I find that difficult to believe.
Benefits? No.
How many employees? Three.
"That Guy (the only one hired so far) is full time, and we need another full time person, and one part time, per se." (He said "per se" a lot. I was starting to get hungry.)
Hours? At least 45 a week, but probably 50.
Vacation? "Not paid, per se, but it's up to you to take time off when you want. You just have to work it out with That Guy."
Also, I would be required to travel about three hours away for training, which will happen over the course of four or five days.
I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I shook his hand and practically ran to my car. I immediately went and filled out another application at a restaurant, then stopped in to follow up at a place I had already applied. There is a possibility there in the next couple weeks. I poked my head into another place that isn't hiring. I went over to the bakery to get something chocolate. The line was long. I was standing there for about thirty seconds when I started having a sort of panic attack. I went back to my car and drove home and got back on the computer to look for another job. I guess I'll be calling the restaurant lady back. If I didn't already mention it, I did get a call back from an application I filled out a couple weeks ago. The restaurant isn't what I would call my cup of tea, but it is one of very few in the town so it will likely be busy, it's only fifteen minutes away, and it can't possibly be as soul sucking as the New Mobile Phone Shop. Plus, they pay minimum (not "restaurant minimum", but actual minimum wage) plus tips. So it looks like I might be going that route. Unless somebody else calls me back soon.

So the b.h. and I were walking the dogs a little while ago. We went down the hill, across the river, and into town, walking along the railroad tracks where there is a paved path. It has been raining all day, so walking in the woods was out.
We were about halfway to the end when we saw a kid, he couldn't have been more than say, fourteen years old, burst through some bushes and run toward us onto the tracks. Having just passed a couple that seemed to be the same age, I assumed that he was running to catch up to them.
He turned, still running, and started across the road toward the river, slipped and fell forward onto his hands and knees, and then popped up and kept on running. I was about to ask if he was okay when I noticed a cop running from behind him. The kid went over the grass to our right, picked his way through some bushes, and started down the extremely steep riverbank. We kept walking, and when the cop reached us we pointed in the general direction that the kid had gone. When the cop got to the top of the bank, he looked over at us, his palms upward, as if to say "Where'd he go?"
We pointed downward and continued walking. Next thing I know the cop is drawing his gun, and he looks down, shows the kid his gun, and goes
"Get up here. NOW."
We walked a little faster then, even though Wyatt was trying his best to turn around and go home, which would basically have taken us straight back into it. Eventually I wrangled him and we started to jog toward the end of the path. By the time we got there, the cop had already cuffed the kid and another cop in a car had arrived. We did see a dry jacket on the tracks, but we resisted the urge to look in it.

Martha Effing Stewart.

Today I woke up later than I intended and, possibly out of a need to feel some sense of accomplishment and also probably out of some sense of guilt for not having gotten up with the b.h. at 5:45, I immediately started cleaning. I did a load of laundry, ironed his chef coats, and picked up in the living room. I also sewed a hole that I have been avoiding in the couch cushion.
Next I turned to the refrigerator to try and cut down the massive number of greens we have accumulated thanks to our new CSA. Having no idea what to do with dandelion or beet greens, I turned to my old friend Cook's Illustrated and found a recipe which used up all of the beet greens as well as the half pound or so of fresh spinach that I had laying around. For those of you not familiar with this site, it is related to the PBS show America's Test Kitchen. These people are serious about food, and their recipes are tested so many times in so many ways (my favorite example is the fudge recipe, which they came to by making ONE TON of fudge) that they are already perfected, and one need only muck with them if one feels like it.
I almost never cook, because the b.h. is very good at it and he enjoys it so much, and our kitchen is small enough that whenever I'm in it I feel like I'm invading his space. But the b.h. was in class today, so I had the kitchen to myself. I made this recipe, substituting dried cranberries for the raisins (the b.h. hates raisins), and it was awesome. I was just finishing up when he walked up the driveway. It was perfect, and I am quite pleased with myself. Maybe I'll start doing this cooking thing more often. I'm thinking maybe tomorrow I'll tackle those dandelion greens.

Today was Drag Your Shrieking Child Through the Store Day at the LHFS. And thanks to somebody's stroke of genius, many of them were piloting child-sized shopping carts and running around knocking into stuff and completely ignoring their parents. So that was fun.
Then there was a girl who showed up in her pajamas. Now I know you're thinking, so effing what? People do that all the time! And indeed that is true. I have seen people in flannel bottoms and a t-shirt, sometimes even in their slippers, running into the gas station or the Local Liquor Store for a pack of cigarettes or quick 6 pack. Shit, people used to come to the bar like that. No. This girl was wearing a silky, peacock green camisole and short set, with lace trim, and a pair of knee-length white trouser socks. Yeah. Somebody's daddy probably should have given her a little more attention.
Other than that and the fact that I got free breakfast (hooray for tofu curry!), it was a rather soul-suckingly boring day.
Off tomorrow, though, so if the weather is nice (it's supposed to rain, so I assume that it will be) I'll probably take the boys to do something fun.

I just got this from my good friend and former boss, who has been an Athens resident since the mid-eighties. I love it. Aside from the fact that I have always loved Chunklet anyway, the music is super cool, and now I feel inspired to go watch Athens, GA Inside Out again. I still haven't finished reading Party Out of Bounds, largely because I was afraid it would be too depressing as I was heading out, but there are serious gaps in my knowledge of Athens music in the early days.
One of the reasons for this is because the music scene is still (and, it seems, has aalways been) so vibrant that I didn't have time. I was so busy watching history being made that I didn't have time to go back. I recently discovered a couple new bloggers who are just getting started on their musical journeys, and I felt a little jealous. I remember when I wasn't lazy and jaded. I remember the shock of hearing, for the first time, somebody saying they didn't want to walk "all the way" (half a mile, at most) down to the 40 Watt to see a really great band. And I remember feeling the same way not long after that.
I remember the first show I saw in Athens. Cafeteria played at Allen's when I was visiting a friend. The first show I saw after I moved there (huh- I just typed "here", because I still feel like I am there) was The Lures at The Caledonia. I called my friend in Chicago from the patio to tell him that the drummer had sung every note of "Joey" by Concrete Blonde and not missed a beat. I was floored. But now Clay is well, just Clay.
In the nine years I spent living in Athens, I saw brilliant bands come and go. I watched FFS become Modern Skirts an The Redbelly Band become Dead Confederate. I saw the first show The Whigs ever played, Caught Patterson Hood solo for two bucks at Nowhere Bar on a Thursday night(and bought his solo CD, which at the time was a burned copy from his home computer in a cardboard sleeve), and watched The (shirtless) Star Rooms Boys play their last show to a packed Tasty World. I saw the Glands there, too, as a matter of fact. I can't say which show had more people, but I'm glad the fire marshal didn't show.
These are just a few of the hundreds of amazing shows and bands I've seen, and mine is an experience that encompasses just a tiny sliver of what was happening during the time when I lived there, which in itself is a tiny sliver of time. And yes, I admit that I got lazy. I just got spoiled having good bands playing so often. It wasn't until I knew for certain that I was leaving that I started going out to shows several nights a week again. I guess it's better that I got away for awhile. Living in a place with little or no music scene has already upped my appreciation of Athens.
I wonder if anybody will ever make another Athens music documentary. And if they do, I wonder who'll be in it. No matter who it is, things will be left out. You just can't capture it all.

Auto (But Not Erotic).

As I post this next paragraph, I am hoping that someday I will look back on this situation and it will all seem funny.
Cars are a lot like men for me. I have had a lot of shitty cars in my life, and I have loved them all despite (because of?) their quirks, and I have at least one story to tell about each of them. Also, I have learned something new from every one, whether it was how to change a tire (1979 Chevy Malibu, my first car, in which I blew two tires at high speeds); how to parallel park (I already knew how, but I perfected this skill in my 1985 Oldsmobile Delta 88, because it was huge and I lived in the city at the time); how to break in using a coat hanger (also the Olds); how to change the oil (I was so broke when I had my 1982 Carolla, which my friend Dave gave to me out of the kindness of his heart, that I couldn't afford to have it done professionally. From this experience I also learned the value of having it done professionally); and finally, how to change spark plugs (1989 Mercury Grand Marquis, purchased for 25 cents from a neighbor, also out of the kindness of his heart).

My current car is a '96 Carolla. It is by far the nicest car I have ever owned, despite some bumps and bruises and only one and a half functioning speakers (most likely thanks to my nephew, who drove this car as a teenager whenever his mom would let him). It doesn't have power windows or locks or cruise control, but it does have air-conditioning, a clean interior (aside from the dog hair, I mean), it gets fantastic gas mileage, and it runs and runs and runs. It has not required a lot in the way of repairs, and I have put nearly a hundred thousand miles on it since I got it. This car has taken us back and forth between Chicago and Athens countless times in all weather. It has been to Texas and Mississippi and Tennessee and North and South Carolina, as well as Alabama, Louisiana, and of course every corner of Georgia. It stood by me through prolonged periods without money and oil changes, has never (knock wood) run out of gas no matter how far I pushed it, and it got me all the way to chilly Vermont after just having returned from several hot days in New Orleans without complaint.
And now- well, now it seems that we may have to part ways. Had we stayed in Georgia, this car would probably have stayed with me for several more years. But within the first week of our arrival, I bumped an already bruised quarter panel while backing out of our new driveway and a bolt that was barely hanging on finally gave. So now whenever I turn right the tire scrapes, just a little, on the plastic flap inside the wheel well. Also, the windshield is cracked. It has been for several months, thanks to a tiny rock flying off the back of a truck one day on 316, but it has now spiderwebbed to the point that it really needs to be replaced. Also, there is the issue of the tires. I would have needed new ones this year (or early next) anyway, but Vermont is a whole new ballgame. I am going to need a separate set of tires just to get up the hill to my house this winter. I have never required them before, but apparently, snow tires are expensive. So that's two sets. And now, the nail in the proverbial coffin, my gas tank is leaking. The mechanic said that it is spliiting at the seam. It isn't dangerous, but unless I keep it under half a tank, it drips. And that's bad for the environment, and it's wasteful, and it smells bad. So I'm keeping it under half a tank.
The hitch is that I work forty miles away, three days a week. And even with my good mileage, that means I have to stop for gas a lot. And it is getting on my nerves. Between our house and my job there are long, long stretches of interstate (not "car" long, but definitely "walking down the side of the interstate with a gas can in your hand" long) without towns or exits. In the past week, I have somehow managed to find myself on these stretches of road no less than three times with a nearly empty tank. This is not a good feeling. Usually I just turn up the radio and sing out loud to distract myself, since I know damn well that whether or not I worry about it I'm either gonna make it to the next exit or not.
So far I have had good luck. But my luck will not hold out forever. I haven't been like this for a long time. I used to fill the car up every week or ten days no matter how much gas was in it. Just easier to do it when you have time and it's not raining and whatever. But now I don't have a choice. And soon I'm going to have to give that car up. A new gas tank, with labor, costs about a third of what the car is worth. And that doesn't take into consideration the windshield or the tires. Fuuuuuck. Man I hate break-ups. Oh well, at least i still have my marriage.
I'm hoping that I get the job I'm interviewing for on Tuesday, so I can give two weeks' notice to the Local Health Food Store on Wednesday and only have to make that drive six more times. Walking to work would be a very huge and welcome change. Do cross your fingers, okay?

This is just...

Beautiful.

There is something so disturbing to me about people who celebrate a person's death. Michael Jackson was fucked up. We all know that. But he never had a chance. He was preyed upon by his own family (and will likely continue to be after his death). Pedophile? Probably. And yes, that is fucked up, but I still feel like being happy he's gone is just weird, and it says more about you than it does him if you're laughing about it. He. Went. Crazy. That's not funny, it's sad. For my part, as a person with Buddhist-ish beliefs, I am happy for him. I think his next life will be much easier.

Also, I can't help but feel like I made some good choices about getting certain people out of my life after reading their remarks on faceb00k.

So yeah. I still need a copy of Off the Wall on vinyl. And I will remember young Michael Jackson because he was one talented motherfucker.

I slept like shit last night for some reason. Consequently, I stayed in bed until ten, listening to the entire hour of BBC news with two fuzzy canine bookends, just enjoying the fan. We missed Dick, the mailman, this morning. The boys heard him pulling up and went crazy, but by the time I got their harnesses on and got downstairs, he was gone. He did leave two dog biscuits with the mail, though. Love that guy.

So I am currently missing Athfest. Boooo. I would appreciate some eyewitness reports from those of you who aren't.
Thanks.

I finally finished The Poe Shadow. Another one from Matthew Pearlman, who wrote The Dante Club, which I absolutely loved. So this one was also good. Not as good, mind you, but it wasn't horrifying and didn't give me nightmares, either. I have always loved Poe and it was interesting to actually read some of the details of his life and death. I had been left with the impression, as most people are, that he dies face down in a gutter and that he was a drunk. Not so. A pretty good read, which is prompting me to drag out my big leatherbound Poe collection. But not before I finish Redemption Song: The Ballad of Joe Strummer. I am enjoying that one, but as I feared it shines some light in corners I may not have wanted to look in.
Also re-reading Confederacy of Dunces. i got it back from my friend Jason just after I returned from New Orleans and just before I moved. Now my good friend MT is reading it, and since we've both just been to New Orleans I thought I'd catch up so we can chat about it. It really is amazing how different it is reading a book when you know the area where it is set. I'm digging it.
The new job is still boring as all getout, but having received my first paycheck in the mail today, I feel slightly more motivated. I have also finally gotten several calls back about other jobs, which is great. I have an interview on Tuesday for a full time thing that's only a few blocks from the house. Hoping for that one. Otherwise it's back to waiting tables. I got a call last night at 9:45 from a catering company whose ad i had answered a full nine days prior, wondering if I was available for a bartending gig this Saturday. They couldn't tell me where, because they had two events, and they were not offering me anything permanent- "the response to our ad on cr@iglist has been so huge that we're not even doing interviews"- but they really really needed me. WTF? How could they be serious? And when I looked back at the website, I realized that the guy I was talking to was THE OWNER. Ridiculous. Unorganized. Stupid. I figure they either suck so much that they can't keep employees, or they are such control freaks that they won't hire somebody to help them schedule staff. Either way, I am not near desperate enough to work for them. Although it is tempting just to see what kind of trainwreck it is. Who the hell do they think they're kidding? The response was so huge that they don't have enough people three days before a wedding? Seriously?!
I went on two walks with Kilgore today. One was early in the day, way back in the woods behind our house. He was exhausted and couldn't wait to get back, which is how I know I went a long way. Wyatt hasn't been feeling well this week and declined to join us. We went again later, this time down the hill of death and into town to walk along a path by the river.
I have finally gotten almost completely organized. this has never happened so quickly after a move, so I guess unemployment has its perks.
We got our first bag from the CSA yesterday. Lots of greens. some fresh dill, radishes and a couple tomatoes. Oh, and garlic scapes, which I had never heard of before, but which I enjoyed thoroughly. This is going to be a great learning experience.
In other news, some of the bulbs I planted are finally sprouting. If they come all the way up there will be photos. Also, there are a ton of these berry bushes (I can't remember what they're called, but I will ask the landlord again) sprouting all over the yard. The flowers are hot pink and just beautiful. I hope the berries make good pie. if not, I will settle for the black and blue berries. But there aren't nearly as many.
Tomorrow I am mostly free to do whatever. There is a festival (food and music) in Burlington that we may decide to go to, but since dogs are not welcome we will likely skip it in favor of something water related. Unless it rains.
And speaking of rain, it has rained a ton since we got here, but never when the weather service says it will. I have never lived in a place where the weather forecast has been so consistently wrong. Bizarre.

So I started my new job this week. It's at a Local Natural Food Store. Well, it's at a store that is locally owned in a town 40 miles away from here, anyway. It's really a great place, and so far I like many of my co-workers, but it is so positively boring that I want to shoot myself. Yesterday was my first full day, and after about half an hour I was completely finished with all of my duties. Time went slowly after that. I re-organized the back stock, and then almost immediately resorted to wiping down shelves and polishing glasses. I think I might have scared a few customers with the desperate tone in my voice when I asked if they needed any help. Also, I am not terribly familiar with the stock at this store yet, so I was not much help. I was told by one of my new co-workers that I should feel free to fuck off.
"It's pretty loose around here," she said, smiling. This is not what I am used to, nor is it what I want to hear. I found a computer I could use to look up some of the wines and educate myself a bit.
Today was so long that I felt like crying. Were it not for the fact that the entire store hovers around fifty degrees, I am certain I would have fallen asleep on my feet. The good news is that I got free food from the cafe. Unsold breakfast items go to the break room at 1:30 for general consumption. I consumed.
I got home and immediately sent my resume to yet another company advertising on cr@igslist. Please to cross your fingers for me. Our car isn't going to make it to this winter and if I could work in town I wouldn't need to drive at all.
Last night we went to see our first rock show in Vermont. It was actually local, at a place called Lamb Abbey. It was fitting that our first VT show coincided with the first Athfest I've missed in nine years.(Note: Athfest is next weekend. See how out of the loop I am already?) The band was called Wussy, and they were fantastic. All kinds of fun. The crowd was older, which was unusual and really nice. And everyone was really excited just to have a show, so there were a lot of people dancing and going crazy. The place is not for profit. They don't have official NFP status yet, but it is meant to be a performance space, so there was a suggested donation at the door and the show was BYOB. Though the ticket price was twice what it would be in Athens, the money all went straight to the bands and since we didn't have to (and couldn't if we wanted to) buy drinks or tip, it wound up being very inexpensive. All in all a great experience and one we hope we can repeat with at least some regularity.
That being said, I stayed up late and now I'm tired and I desperately need a beer, so I'm off.

Damn it.

Shit.

We just got back from dinner. The school that b.h. goes to runs several restaurants in town, and we ate at one this evening. They have a tapas-style menu in their downstairs lounge, which we loved. I tried a tiny piece of swordfish and decided that I am still a vegetarian. At first it tasted like grill, then there was an aftertaste that I just couldn't abide- flesh, I guess. Anyway.
So far i love the new job. Easy to say after a couple hours of orientation, i suppose. But I like the vibe at this place. And despite the drive, I think it will be worth it. They have a system by which employees get to take home any food that is not suitable for selling. This will likely wind up making up for the five bucks in gas I will spend to get there. Today I saw bread from the bakery, fresh fruit, some kind of cheesecake, meat (this gets kept in a freezer and you take it on your way out), some organic roasted red peppers, and cookies. At very least I won't have to buy lunch. And they carry Mrs. Meyers cleaning products, too. Woot!
Also, I located a Thrift store about three blocks from the store, and another that's just a couple miles away. Not that I am planning on collecting any more coffee cups or vintage ashtrays, but they had a decent selection of clothes, and that makes me happy.
My new boss is going on vacation next week, which is hilarious because that is exactly what happened when I got my last job. Except this time they won't have me coming in every day. Honestly, I don't know how i will fill my time in the department at this point. There is so little back stock that I won't have a lot of lifting and shuffling. Should be interesting.
I did taste six wines today while I was there for orientation. My boss and I discussed them after the salesman had left, and we had similar reactions. This is probably a good thing. I had fallen out of spitting practice, though, and I did manage to get a drop on my shirt. Red, of course.
Okay, so my phone is ringing and I don't know where it is. I guess I should go.

Oh my god where does the time go?
So I got a job. Part time, far away, but involving beer and wine. So good. Our car is not well, so I'm dealing with that. It seems that the gas tank is splitting at the seam, so i can drive it, but I can't put more than half a tank of gas in at a time or it leaks all over. So yeah. That's fun.
Honestly, I have spent so much time looking for a job and trying to figure out where everything is and reading about Iran that by the time I think of posting I am sick to death of looking at the computer. I have been following the election closely and can't seem to stop compulsively looking at Andrew Sullivan's blog to find out what is going on over there. I worry, perhaps too much. I wish there was something I could do. I remember how shitty I felt after both stolen U.S. elections (call me whatever you want to- I am convinced), and that was without the shutting down of communication with the outside world and having people shot on the streets for protesting. I feel unusually strongly about it all and it is difficult to process. If i were a woman of faith, I would be praying. Not having been blessed with faith, I resort to the equivalent of a lot of finger crossing. Ugh. This is a huge moment in history.
On a lighter note, I went to the DMV today to apply for an enhanced driver's license, which is one that will get me back and forth across the Canadian border. So I've got that going for me.
Other than that, I spend my time walking in the woods with the dogs, looking for more work, and wondering how in fuck I am going to afford a new car (which I will need before winter) when I don't even make enough money to pay the rent right now. I am remarkably calm in light of these facts.
Carry on.

I'm finally internetting from the house, which means- yep, you guessed it- photo time! Yay!

First up, a view from the bottom of our hill, which I have dubbed "The Ass Burner":

I remarked today after the b.h. and I returned from the grocery store that it was good we hadn't bought any new pants before we left. I suspect a month or two of this thing will mean smaller sizes for both of us.

This is the view looking back from about halfway up:


And one from the top:


The very bottom of this picture is where the last one was taken from. This thing is serious.

And the end result:



The funny thing is that the path into the (miles and miles of) woods behind our house is almost vertical, but for some reason it doesn't seem to hurt the way the Ass burner does. Maybe because on the way home from the woods you go down hill. I'll try to get some pictures of that path later in the week.

Employment?

From the local classifieds:

Big Top Tour Cook!
Run away with the circus this year as a Big Top
Cook!

Working from our 8' x 18' fully-equipped mobile
kitchen, you will be responsible for helping to
provide nutritious, tasty, filling and economical
meals for the cast and crew of the Circus Smirkus
Big Top Tour. Following the rehearsal period in
Greensboro, VT, the tour travels throughout New
England. Prior food service experience required.

Greetings from the Green Mountain State.

So I'm sitting in a bakery, which is run by the Culinary School. I have just inhaled a spinach and cheese croissant (I tried very hard to pause and really savor it, but it was small and delicious and I was hungry), and am working my way through a very large cup of coffee.
Since we last spoke, I have driven from Athens to New Orleans and back, stopping to eat and rock and walk and walk and walk and eat and drink too much coffee and take a bunch of pictures and talk to a voodoo priest. More on this later.
After that I ate again at El Sol, packed things into boxes, went out for a final drink with several co-workers, who are very generous and lovely people that I will miss, came home and packed more, slept fitfully, picked up a Monstrous 24 foot Moving Truck drove it, white knuckled, back to the house and up our impossibly overgrown driveway, packed more, packed the truck (with the help of some of those co-workers I mentioned previously), forgot some things, left some things, had a "yard sale" and a final farewell at Happy Hour at Flicker, packed some more, slept a little, packed some more, cleaned as much as possible (but not nearly enough- apologies to John), and finally hit the road only two hours later than planned.
The first day was not difficult, once we got going and I got used to driving said Monstrous Truck. The dogs were in our car with the b.h.'s sister and her fiance'. They were having a good time. We switched vehicles somewhere in North Carolina, and I drove the car into D.C., where we stayed the night. We slept at said sister & fiance's apartment, got up early, and drove again. This time I started the day driving the car, which was a huge relief because as you may or may not be aware, Pennsylvania is chock full of mountains and they were foggy and the roads were crowded and I was glad not to be piloting the Monstrous Truck through them. Glad, that is, until it was my turn to drive the Monstrous Truck and it started to rain. And then it got dark, and there are actually quite a few mountains in this state as well- thus the name, I guess.
Anyway, it was scary, but we made it, and when we got here the exit felt like a vertical drop rather than a ramp, and we discovered that our street is better for goats than people, and probably not good at all for Monstrous Trucks.
Our landlord was waiting for us at the house, which we had seen only in pictures up to that point. It was smaller than I expected, but not smaller than the house we had just moved out of. There were small things that you wouldn't notice in pictures- peeling wallpaper here, non-existent heat vents there, and the fact that the whole place leans, and not necessarily in the same direction- but overall we were happy. Mostly we were exhausted. Also, it had taken longer to get here than we expected, so it was dark and we couldn't get our beds out of the truck. We slept on dog beds and piles of blankets in the middle of the living room. I woke up nose to nose with Wyatt. I am not sure which of us had worse breath.
We were smart enough to hire some help, and two hours later two Very Lanky Movers appeared at the door. They backed the Monstrous Truck into the driveway and began emptying it right away. Two hours later, the truck was empty and the furniture in place, the rest of the house piled high with boxes. The Very Lanky Movers were magical. The only thing that even slowed them slightly was the Giant Oak Bookcase, which they dead-lifted twice and maneuvered through three doorways with nary a complaint. Beautiful. If you ever need to move, let me know. I'll give you their number.

Damn.

http://blogs.suntimes.com/derogatis/2009/05/jay_bennett_dead_at_age_45.html

Customer of the Day #3279

"Would you like a bag for that?"
"I'd like you to tie me up."
There were about ten people in line, and they all looked either uncomfortable or aghast. Without skipping a beat I replied, smiling:
"How about I tie you to the bumper of my car and drag you home?"
That broke the tension and got rid of the weirdo in one fell swoop.

So the week flew by. Worked Monday, off Tuesday, worked Wednesday, off Thursday. Saw Tim and Todd on Thursday night, and more importantly got to hang out with Tim and Katie and the band and Katie's aunt and uncle. The b.h. and I ate at El Sol again, which is only mildly weird. The waitress now knows my order by heart. Then we went down to soundcheck and ate at The grit with the out of towners. the show was lovely. Tim played "Just Like Home" for us, which was super cool because it's one of my favorite songs and because we're leaving and whatnot.
Had breakfast on Friday morning at Big City Bread, again with the out of town folk, then went home and napped before going to work. Worked my last shift yesterday, which was weird, even beyond the above mentioned customer. I have no job waiting in our new home, and I haven't been unemployed in years and years, so it feels kind of uncomfortable. Ah well. I'll get over it.
Today we had a yard sale. It went okay, but we're going to need yard sale part two before we leave. R & C almost burned their cars down trying to jump her battery, which was interesting. Other than that, just waiting for New Orleans. And looking for a dog sitter. Yep.

The weekend was pretty good, I suppose. It felt short. I didn't get to either of the early shows on Friday. S and A stopped by to see me at Nuci's Space, even though they had to get up early and couldn't stay for the show. The show was fine, but I drank a bit too much Smuttynose Imperial Stout and wound up nearly passing out in the middle of Lake City's set. No fault of theirs, mind you. They brought the rock. I was just exhausted and probably shouldn't have hit the high gravity beer.
Saturday I slept in and worked in the yard before going to work. I have been plucking some of my perennials from the yard and bringing them to S & T's house, since they would likely just get lost in the weeds here without much diligence. My rose bush is enormous. I can't help but feel a sense of gardener's pride every season when it blooms. I got that thing as a stick in a half gallon bucket, and now it is several feet tall by several feet wide, and has nearly covered the dead satellite dish I planted it next to. It smells fantastic, too. If I get less lazy later I'll try to post some pictures.
Sunday I went out with S and got some herbs and dirt. Since I'm planting in window boxes and taking them with me, I figured I might as well go ahead and get them. It will save the b.h. and I having to pay exorbitant grocery store prices for them in the meantime. So we went back to her house and put some stuff in the dirt, and then watched a preview of Real Housewives of New Jersey, which I have the misfortune of being addicted to and unable to watch for lack of cable. That show is the perfect example of why I don't have cable, actually, because it is fucking awesome and ridiculous and I already don't read enough. So yeah.
And speaking of reading, I finished the first Maisie Dobbs mystery, which i enjoyed but am not gobsmacked by. I have two more that the b.h.'s mom lent me, but they are currently on the back burner. I'm re-reading How Dogs Think by Stanley Coren, with the hope that it will help me help the dogs adjust to our new home more quickly. Still reading Party Out of Bounds, too.
Sunday evening J and M came over for dinner. It was short and sweet and we went to bed at a completely reasonable hour. Woke up in the middle of the night to an unruly thunderstorm, which scared the hell out of Kilgore, who in turn scared the hell out of me. I got him up into the bed and calmed him down pretty quickly, though, and we all went to sleep again.
The boys got their annual haircuts today, and they look hilarious. Again, I'll post pictures when I'm feeling less lazy.
Other than that, I am eagerly awaiting a visit from Tim Easton and company on Thursday, and his show with Todd McBride on Thursday night at the 40 Watt. It has been far too long.

Monday I met A at the bookstore for a couple hours, then went to El Sol for dinner with J(somebody start a meeting for this, please!! "Hi my name is heybartender and I am an ElSoloholic").
Tuesday I met up with MT earlyish and stopped at the Caledonia.
Wednesday I worked and then met the b.h. at the Caledonia for Idiot Slowdown. Today I am off to work again but home early. Tomorrow I open the store, then get out around six and possibly see MT at the Bowling alley, and/or Dave Barbe at the Caledonia, before Still Small Voice and Lake City and Goat at Nuci's. Whew.

Spoiler Alert.

So the new X Men movie. What the fuck? I was entertained, but I can't help having complaints. Hugh Jackman did a whole lot of anguished screaming, which was very tiresome after awhile. And was it really that difficult to find a black guy that could actually act? The b.h. said they used that guy because he's in a band and they could get a "name" without paying for one. He was not good. At least, half the time he sucked. The other half he was fine. Could they not have used the money they spent on Dominic Monewhatsisname to get an actual actor in that role, rather than blowing it on a character with so few lines? Which is not to say that he wasn't great, mind you. But still. And is money really an issue at this point? Haven't these movies already made an assload of money?
Danny Huston channeled Brian Cox perfectly, Ryan Reynolds was funny, but there were too many jokes in general. Liv was great, Agent Zero guy was hit or miss, the exploding helicopter scene was so embarrassing that I laughed out loud in the theater. And adamantium fucking bullets? Really? Was that the best they could do?
I blame the director. Somebody call Bryan Singer, or cancel the rest of these movies, for the love of god.

Yesterday I dropped the b.h. off at work, got breakfast at the bakery, and then came home and went back to sleep for several hours. And then when I got up I got on the couch again. I blame rain and Spain: on the Road Again.

Work is getting dumber by the day, mostly because of the "Socialist Dictator" remarks about the President that I have to endure on a daily basis. It's as if these fuckers have been asleep for the last eight years and are only now waking up to the fact that we're fucked. The toilet was flushed a long time ago, people. We've just been swirling toward the bottom the whole time.

Overheard at the health food store, from a mid-forties redneckish man:
"I don't know son. It's a Diva Cup."
And then louder:
"A Diva Cup!! I don't know what it's for!!"

It's the little things that keep me going.

So they still haven't caught the guy. Great. I can't even talk about the whole thing, really, because no diatribe is going to change anything. i know a lot of people who were present, and thankfully none of them have any serious physical wounds. But it really sucks that they are going to have to live with this shit for the rest of their lives. It's hard to even process and to avoid being corny and/or reactionary I'm just going to shut my pie hole.
In other news, I can't seem to get motivated to do much. Work is pissing me off for various reasons, and I am otherwise incredibly lazy. I have packed a few boxes and done some house cleaning, but I have been generally useless for the past week.
We ate lunch at the National on Tuesday, and I went to A's and had a couple glasses of wine and did some catching up that evening.
Next week is going to be ridiculously busy at work, so I'm hoping to put in a couple extra days in order to fund a trip to New Orleans. My buddy MT and I are talking about it, and it seems like it can be done fairly cheaply (especially if we have a third party, which we may). Luckily I know several people who have lived there, too, so I will have good recommendations for food and whatnot. I've never been to new Orleans and I don't know when I will have the chance to go again, so I hope it works out.
Okay, no more procrastinating. Must... Pack...