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My brain hurts

I ran into one of my former coworkers at HRG on the bus.

Wow.  Just...wow.

My work boyfriend (the only other thing holding that place together, IMHO) left.  Big Boss' other venture (ya know, the one he wanted to focus more energy on, so he hired the dipshit who ultimately fired me due to my looks, age, and wonky teeth) recently folded.  He's hired a revolving cast of people who only stay long enough to rob him blind.

And Dipshit left.  To take a job at Happy Acres.  Kent's old job, to be precise.

I swear, I can't make this shit up.

I can't even work up a good head of schaudenfreude on this one.  I just feel sad.  I wonder if Big Boss is regretting that he felt the need to have a man at the helm instead of making me GM.

Ah, well.  Water under the bridge.  But part of me wants to go up and give Big Boss a hug.

And go up to Happy Acres and just...lurk.  Possibly bend a few ears about what they've hired.

You know, I AM off for three days off in a row next week  And I need to visit my grrrls at PTA Thrift North and hit up the tienda (I am out of chile lime garbanzo beans.  This cannot stand!)  It wouldn't kill me to pop in and see how BB is doing.  Former Coworker said he's falling apart.

I hate being soft-hearted sometimes.

Oh, and about the three days off thing?  They have BORKED my schedule due to people going on vacation, so I am doing the dreaded close/open, three days off, lather, rinse, repeat deal.  It's great for my hours (I'm slowly creeping up on full time.  Woo-hoo!), but my circadian rhythms are hosed.  Kent's been moved to 8-4:30, and we're not sure that's going to work, since the first cook has to be done by 10am.

We need to hire someone who knows how to make a schedule.  If you want 72 salads in the case by noon, having someone come in at 10:30 to do it is unrealisic, to say the least.  At full speed, I can do 30-42 in 90 minutes, and that's ONLY if I don't have to run around like a chicken with my head cut off finding ingredients and/or plasticwear.  Or slice meats and cheese (because getting on the slicer is just ASKING for a customer to come up and want 12 different things sliced 15 different ways in minute increments.  And you can't say no.  Also, because Kent works deli and I'd hear about it at home, I always properly re-wrap stuff.  And wipe down the slicer).  And raid produce for spring mix, because no one ever remembers to order it and HALF of our salads call for it (oh, and fill out the transfer log, which is apparently something only I do.  On the up side, the fact that I do has made me Produce Joe's pet, so I get slipped the occasional overripe peach or slightly bruised apricot.  On the days when I don't have time to take a break, that saves my life).  Blergh.

WHY am I stressing myself writing about this on my day off?  Of course, one might also ask why I am binge watching the first season of Best British Home Cook on my day off.  I clearly need a hobby that is not food related.

Which means I need to find that g hook and finish that shawl that has been in limbo since February.  Good thing it's just for me.

Hopefully, soon I'll be obsessing over my little herb plants.  I have a tomato that is doing reasonably well (read:  I've kept it alive for a month), and we have those "grow kitchen herbs" kits on sale for half price at work.  That's going to be my birthday gift from me to me.  I've been really feeling the need to grow things lately.

prom pics annd work stuff

So, Grownup Prom happened.  Raise your hand if you're surprised that we ultimately decided to cook at home rather than go out to dinner?

Yeah.  We're predictable.  But NY strip steak was on sale at work, and with our discount, the steaks and my corsage came to under $10.

(I love the corsage and currently have it hanging up to dry.  But L in floral has never made one, and Kent has never bought one, so I got one that was roughly the size of a bridesmaid's bouquet.  I had to SEW it to the dress!  However, I was the only girl at Prom with a corsage, so *preen*)

We spent more time playing pinball than dancing, but I *did* get a slow dance to Madonna's "Crazy For You," which was the song playing during my first ever slow dance with a boy.  Thank you, Jess!  Who would have figured I'd be dancing with my husband to that song 34 years later?  A little weird, that.

They're still cutting hours at work, which means that everyone is understaffed and cranky AF.  I'm now expected to do a seven hour job in five.  Blergh.

BUT...bakery has been given clearance to hire a new part time person, so I threw my hat into the ring.  One of my fellow deli drones applied for the part time position in grocery (we did rock, paper, scissors to decide who would apply for what).  Might as well hire in house, right?  We come pre-indoctrinated.  ;)

I was off today, and found out that Big Big Boss gave each of the mothers on staff a long stemmed rose and a bar of chocolate.  I can't tell if that is sweet or Bachelor-level creepy.  I'm also torn between missing out on free chocolate and being glad that I missed the opportunity to start my annual Mothers Day meltdown.

Kent, bless him, bought me one of the fancy-schmancy chocolate bars (milk chocolate with toffee and sea salt.  I usually prefer dark, but this is SO GOOD!).  He didn't want me to feel left out.  <3

I'm glad I work tomorrow.  Several hours in a refrigerated room, making salads and sandwiches, is infinitely preferable to spending the day watching soft focus depictions of motherhood and hoping the phone will ring.  I already did the required parental calls because we're both working.  I was thrilled that Kent's mom got her card and the shawl I made in time.  She got the package at lunch today, so she was the coolest mom at her table.  <3  "It's like sunshine and a hug from you!  And it matches the blanket you made for me!"

I cried when I got off the phone.  I'm sure y'all are shocked.



Happy birthday, Liam!

Yeesh....my big little guy is 22 today.  Hard to believe.  When I was his age, I was married, in grad school, working three jobs, and just months away from finding out I was pregnant with him.  The mind reels.

Bonus day!

I was off yesterday, which is not a bad way to kick off my birthday month (oh, and happy belated Beltane, y'all!).  I was actually really productive, which surprised me, considering how work beat me up on Tuesday.  It's one of our busiest days, and Boss spent most of it up my ass.

She's like a lot of teachers I've had over the years:  hounds me about shit I'M ALREADY DOING until I'm cross-eyed and paranoid that I'm fucking up...then sings my praises to everyone but me.  Oh, yay.  At least I finanlly have the ability to recognize it for what it is.

Doesn't make it any less annoying, though.

I'm off today as well, which was quite unexpected.  Apparently during yesterday's "morning huddle" (read: massive time sucks that inevitably interrupts me when I'm in the middle of things and almost never has anything to do with my job) was....interesting.  Big Boss is back from a week and a half vacation and found overtime is through the roof.

This is no surprise, TBH.  While he was gone, the salaried folks were ducking out early, leaving the hourly drones to pick up the slack.  So hours had to be cut and...ta-dah!...bonus day off!

It doesn't bother me, because I have a fat check headed my way tomorrow as it is.  I *do* find it ironic, though.  Kent and I were talking before he went into work yesterday about how weird it's going to be to have two days in a row off (we're both off Sunday and Monday), because we haven't had that in forever.

We asked for Sunday off (because day after Prom) AND got Monday!  It couldn't BE any better.  That gives us a whole extra 24 hours to recover from that and Cinco De Mayo brunch with my local SiL, during which I shall raise a glass (or three) in honor of my eldest's 22nd birthday (yeah, he remains daddy's boy and stubbornly silent.  Fine.).

Twenty two.  It's a sobering thought that, at his age, I was married, in grad school, doing the GTA thing, balancing 2 other jobs, and just a few months away of discovering I was pregnant with him.  He's still living with his father and with a stepmother who still cleans his room.  Shades of "Captain Jack" without the weed, frankly.

I can't help but think, had they been allowed to stay with me, both of the boys would be better off.  Not financially, but at least better prepared to deal with the real world.  Even their stepmom thinks Ashe would be better off here (although he would be getting his own place PRONTO).  He needs a place where he can let his freak flag fly.

GAH!  Between Liam's birthday this Sunday and Mothers Day next Sunday, I am having so many issues that they've morphed into subscriptions.

I volunteered to work next Sunday.  Better work than stay at home and brood, right?

WAAAAIIIIT.  Okay, I'll be getting paid.  But I'll be standing in a refrigerated room by myself.  And brooding.  And I can't drink at work.  But I CAN make a million motherfucking salads.

I really need to start thinking these things all the way through.

In other news, the end of semester dumpster diving has commenced!  We scored a restaurant grade bit of shelving that fits under the kitchen counter perfectly.  We now have space for the (also restaurant grade) stock pots, the cast iron, the rice cooker, the crock pot, and most of my bakeware.  We went for what we use most, and it's going to be nice to not have to dig around in our pokey, dark little cabinets to find something.

I also discovered that our colanders and mixing bowls nest quite handily together in the stock pots, freeing up much more space.  Yay!

It's funny.  You'd think that with both of us working producing massive amounts of food all day, the LAST thing we'd waant to do is obsess over our kitchen the way we do.    It's turned out to be quite the opposite.  AND we're cooking more.  On the days we're not too tired to eat, that is.  We've been doing a lot of pasta and sauce made from the stuff from the produce dept. that was deemed unfit for donation.  I'm thinking about writing a book titled "It's You Or the Dumpster."  Which is what Produce Joe always says when he sticks his hand into my little corner of Siberia with a bag or two of random veggies, fruit, and herbs.

First day flying solo

Go, me!  I worked by myself and didn't die!  Not bad after less than a week of training.

Let me put it this way:  I knocked out 30 salads (four different varieties) in 90 minutes today.  That's one entree salad every 3 minutes.  And they were PRETTY (and they sold, so I had to knock out another 15 before I left, just to be on the safe side. )

And we won't even discuss sandwiches.  And wraps.  SOOOOOO many wraps.

(Proof positive you learn something from every job:  I can make wraps like a mofo, thanks to my time in Taco Bell's burrito trenches.  They're pretty and I'm fast.  Which is good, because our clamschells SUCK and it takes me longer to get them boxed up than it does to make them)

Okay...bedtime for me.  One more day, and I have all Sunday to myself.  Yay!
Work is kicking my ass.

Sunday, I wasn't scheduled until 11.  When the phone rang at a quarter to seven,  I expected it was Kent's ride calling to say he was here (we have the BEST cab driver!  Always on time or early, helps me carry my groceries when I do my big grocery shop and can't schlep them on the bus,  and plays Bollywood soundtracks.  What more can a girl ask for?).  I rolled over and thought happily that I could sleep for another 3 hours.

Then I heard Kent say "Well, she'll still in the bed, but...."

Oh, FUCK ME.  Yeah, I ended up pulling a double.  ON EASTER.  And it reminded me how much (despite my generally friendly demeanor) that I despise most of the human race.  You just got out of church, so that allows you to be an asshole to people in the service industry?  That's why I don't worship your god.  Blergh.  And that was followed up by two days of learning CMS (no, I don't know what it stands for, either.  No one seems to), so I was learning how to do all of our premade salads, sandwiches, pizza, yadda yadda yadda in a freezing cold room.  On the up side, there were no people so....yay?

I am off today, and I ain't doing shit.  Well, unless day drinking and watching Verdon/Fosse counts as doing something.  And I WILL finish the shawl I've been making for me.  My new goal is to finish at least one project I get to keep before the end of the year.  So of course I'm trying to finish a worsted weight half granny square shawl when it's supposed to be 86F today.  I'm smart like that.

In other news, I found a dress for prom!  They're holding a "grown up prom" at our favorite arcade/watering hole the first weekend in May, and unlike my senior year, I actually have a date!  There was a GORGEOUS dress at one of my favorite thrift stores:  floor length deep purple chiffon.  Empire waist, halter top neckline, little sparkly straps....and it was only FIVE BUCKS!  I'm going to re-dye my hair purple and try to figure out how to do a messy up-do.  I wish I knew where to find some sparkly butterfly pins to put in it.  I'd also like long gloves, but, again....no access to big box stores or a mall.  :(  But at least I have a date!

And I better get a nice corsage, or I am NOT putting out.  *snicker*

I GOT IT!!!!

I  got the job!   I GOT THE JOB!

And....yeah "part time"?   Pfffft.  I got my schedule, and I have 39 hours WITH deducting the mandatory half hour lunch (in a staff break room that has a fridge and microwave, so I can pack my lunch).  And they started me at ELEVEN!  Twenty five cent raise, y'all!  And the spousebeast and I will be able to commute home together at least 3 days a week.  And cab it together on the weekends.

And our first weekend will be Easter, which means....HOLIDAY PAY!  Times two.  Do y'all know how much half price candy I'm about to buy?

Walking in to pick up my final check from HRG didn't hurt nearly as much after that news.  I miss my peeps (it hurt when D said "It's just not any fun here now that you're gone.").  But that stupid fucker wouldn't even meet my eyes.  I give the place six months.

So....another chapter.  Let's see what happens.
So, I'm waiting to hear from the spousebeast's work about a job (it sounds like I have it).

He came home late because they had ANOTHER pull a no call, no show.

I gave him a big hug when he got home and he stopped short.  "Are you wearing a bra?"

Well, yeah.  C might call at any minute.

"You DO realize she can't see your tits when you answer the phone, right?"


Ummmmm....I guess...you...might...be....right.

*damn brain*

Let's get ready to rummage!

Yesterday was the annual ABC Sale at Church of the Cross.  For those who aren't local, ABC stands for attic, basement, closets clean out sale.  Not discont booze, sadly.  ;)

We got up at you gotta be kidding me thirty, got caffeinated and carb-ed (the spousebeast brought home everything bialy rolls from the dump cart.  Trust me....if you don't need to avoid carbs, you NEED these in your life!), and headed up the hill to stand in line for an hour.

Yes, the ABC sale is a competitive sport.  At times, it's a bit of a contact sport.

We had a mission.  Kent wanted a new table for the living room, one better suited to gaming and big enough that we can host dinner parties for 6 instead of 4.  We also had $20 each to spend "why did you feel the need to buy that?" money.

This is the first year I didn't even make it to the accessories room  (no new bippity boppity hat this year, damnit!)  I hit books and cds first.  I got The Best of Girl Groups and Metallica S & M, as well as a couple of books by Philippa Gregory.  You could tell that the guy at checkout was trying to figure out if he should use hand sanitizer after taking my money.

What can I say?  I'm a well rounded weirdo.

Then I headed to "Cook's Corner" and....OMG, y'all!  There was a molcajete!  For five bucks!  And this is not the tiny ones they bring out with salsa and guacamole at b flat Mexican restaurants.  This thing is HUGE.  And heavy as fuck.  It's the real deal.

AAAANNNNNDDD I found and apple corer/peeler!  I had one years ago, and my sadistic ex tossed it in the divorce.  I've been wanting one for 15 years.  The spousebeast is getting sooooo many apple pies in the future.

We also scored a vintage Rival crockpot (which Kent has been wanting forever), a bag of actual grownup silverware (somehow, we only have 4 forks.   Now we have a full set for 8, including salad forks!  And iced tea spoons!  Ain't we fancy?).  And a really cute rainboe silicon whisk that I've been looking at online for YEARS....and it only cost 50 cents.

(No, actually, the best score was two new jello molds for my collection:  the salmon and the BIG scallop shell.  Bless Kent for just rolling his eyes and hanging them up in the kitchen while I took a nap)

But I think the best thing might be Alice's Restaurant Cookbook.  With a forward by Arlo Guthrie.  <3  I also got a vintage copy of Moosewood Cooks at Home.

I'm such a hippie.

One of the best things about the ABC Sale is that they will bring any furniture to your house FOR FREE.  Because, yes....we got a new table.  And this thing is a BEAST.  It's real wood and heavy as hell.  It's got some scratches, but I think I'm going to get some Old English and furniture polish the heck out of it.

I can't wait to have a dinner party and game night.  I may have to make something in the new crock pot.

I am a good partner

Years ago, Kent and I decided to choose a book for the other one to read.  Something important to us, for whatever reason.

I chose Tam Lin by Pamela Dean (it's like my college years through a fantasy lens).  Kent chose Dhalgren by Samuel R. Delany.

I cannot count the number of times I hurled that across the room in frustration.  There is something about his prose that I just can't get through.  It's the only book I've never been able to finish.

Guess who we're going to see tomorrow night?

I could have kept scrolling, because Kent would have never known.  But....a chance for him to get to see one of his heroes?  To potentially get a book he treasures above everything but me and his Crowley deck?  For free?

I'm a good, good, good wife.

Spring is shaping up to be interesting as far as cultural adventures go.  We have this, tickets to see The Church (the 30th anniversary tour of 'Starfish!'), an art opening for Sudie Rakusin, volunteering at the Ackland, and a paint in at the SiL's yoga studio.  The lengthening days are filling me with joy and creative energy.

Clearly, I need a vacation

P.T.A. Thrift seems to think it needs to be in Italy.  At least, that's my takeaway from yesterday's haul.

I missed my usual bus (*grumble*) so, instead of cooling my heels at the stop for 40 minutes, I decided to take a tour through the thrift store down from where I work..  I scored a copy of The Silver Spoon, an Italian cookbook roughly the size of a small apartment.  It's considered the Bible of Italian cooking.  I got it for six bucks!  Then I found these cute ceramic measuring spoons, and the pattern was Tuscany.

Since I didn't win the lottery, I guess I'll be re-reading 'Under the Tuscan Sun' and batting my eyelashes at the spousebeast to make me some homemade pasta.  He *is* off work tomorrow, after all.  ;)

They have completely messed up his schedule at work.  This will be the second weekend in a row he has to work (he usually has Sundays off).  Ironically, this is the second entire weekend in a row *I've* had off, which is weird for me.  This kind of stuff doesn't happen in Foodserviceland.

And the weather is supposed to be nice.  What to do, what to do?  I guess I could go thrifting for a prom dress.

Yes, I was asked to prom!  The Baxter (our favorite arcade/watering hole) is hosting a grown up prom in May.  The spousebeast left a note on my computer, the old school "Will you go to prom with me?" with check boxes for yes, no, and maybe.  I may have to go full-on Pretty In Pink for this.  He already has his outfit picked out, and it is totally Duckie.  I could finally rewrite the script in the way I wanted it to end.  ;)

I'm a model!

Please, no autographs.  I'm trying to stay humble.

We had a professional photographer in at work  to take pics of the food for social media sites.  If the pic makes the cut, it will be my first job as a hand model.

This is hilarious.  My hands are beat all to hell.  My nail polish was chipped (soooo happy that I decided on a whim to paint them Tar Heel blue in advance of the game, though).  But I was photographed (well, my lefy hand was) holding a glass of our cheap Chardonnay.  And, let's face it....that is totally me.

Even better, not only did we have to make EVERYTHING on the menu...we had scads of free food around for the taking.  I brought home supper for me and Kent, AND took a bunch down to my friends on the street.  I haven't gotten to do that since I worked at McAlister's.

And as an added bonus, one of the shots was of two carafes of wine.  Boss asked me if I drink wine.  I managed to not laugh outright.  The red went home to his wife (I KNEW I liked her for a reason!) and he said I could take the white, and just find a discreet way to carry it home on the bus.

The look on his face when I promptly dumped the iced tea out of my travel mug, rinsed it, poured the wine in it, and put the remaining in a to-go cup with a little ice for the bus ride home was PRICELESS.

Hey, I'm a food service professional.  No shame in my game.

Actually, wine has featured heavily in the last few days...and not just for the usual reasons (hic!).

We had a lady come in and she just looked....rough.  I could tell she'd been crying.  I walked her through our menu (we have a lot of good stuff, but if you're stressed past the breaking point, ordering a sandwich can be overwhelming.  BTDT).  She got the garlic chicken bacon club and asked how much our wine is.

I'll level with y'all.  I am a cheap bitch.  I REFUSE to pay $6US for a glass of wine ON TAP.  And the 4oz pour that Cokey McSnortface insists we do (I actually got written up for over pouring.  But it's okay to make multiple trips to your car during shift, come back agitated, AND HAVE YOUR DEALER IN AND COMP THEIR LUNCH!?!?!?  And eat food for free while we're expected to pay?  Whatever, dude.  That 8 top in for a birthday are getting six.  Fuck you) is just...an insult.  The lady said that the price was a bit high (did I mention our craft beers are only $4?  It's a crime against wine drinkers everywhere!) and just got the sandwich.

I'm sorry, but if you have just lost your best friend of 43 years to cancer, you deserve wine.  And flowers and candy and unicorns and fuzzy kitten snuggles...unfortunately, those aren't on the menu.

I could NOT let that stand.  I asked M to ring me up for 2 glasses (I ain't playing).  She gave me the employee discount, and i brought a SERIOUSLY heavy pour to the woman.  She tried to pay me, and I said it was on me...and we both cried a little.  When she left, she asked if she could give me a hug and said she'd left a little something for me on the table for my kindness.

A.  FUCKING.  FIFTY.  DOLLAR.  BILL.

Y'all, that is TWO WEEKS of groceries for us.  However, since I'd already done the grocery run...that's two tickets to see The Church next month.

The last time they were here, they SUCKED.  I don't know it if was the venue or because they were flogging the hell out of their newest album.  I actually ended up walking out (my sister and my friend J had better experiences in other towns, soooo...?).  This tour, they're playing Starfish in its entirety, so I'm willing to give them another chance.

Better not let me down, boys.

In other news, there's good news!  My great neice is out of the NICU and should be home by the end of the month!!!!!!  She'll actually be coming home before her due date.  I have a feeling she's going to be early for the rest of her life.  May her biggest hurdle be the fact that her mama named her after a character from Twilight.  And that her great uncle has decided to bless her with the nickname Re-Bob.

Okay, and I made her a "Team Jacob" onesie, but she'll outgrow that.  I have a bad feeling that Re-Bob is gonna stick.  Of course, I've been called George since the 3rd grade, and look how I turned out.

Or don't.  Actually, just don't.

They jacked up Kent's work schedule, so I have today allllll to myself.  I think I'll take my remaining tips and the bounty I got for having the ENTIRE UNC women's lacross team come in (I eat breakfast at Whole Paycheck most mornings, and I asked if they had a game, gave out some menus--yes, I carry them with me--and joked about how I heard that some boys were playing some sort of game, but I'd be rooting for them.  Thelunch  to-go order was HUGE.  But Boss gave me $5 for each member I brought in.  That is not chump change, my friends.  And we got a picture with the team, which we're going to get enlarged and they're going to come by and sign.) and treat myself to brunch at Lucha Tigre.  I may also have to stop by Flyleaf, because my to-read pile is currently under 6 feet and that always makes me feel uneasy.  ;)
Ummmm....yeah.  Please, kind sir, mansplain to me how a kitchen scale works.  It's not as though I've been working in food service my entire fucking life.  And please disregard that row of knives behind me.   I assure you I am not thinking of stabbing you.  That would be cross-contamination, and I ain't got time for that today.

Oy.

At least I'm off tomorrow.  I guess I get, like, one weekday off every three weeks?  I'm off on Sundays, but so is Kent...so I never get a day to myself.  With the six day weeks, I NEED some me time.  I had planned on going out and blowing my whopping $16 in tip money, but it's supposed to be 40F tomorrow.  *shudder*  Think I'll hide in the house where it's warm instead.  It might be a baking and crocheting day.

Now to just decide between apple pie and brownies....

rain, rain, go away

I'm getting really tired of schlepping an umbrella to work.  *whine*  Yes, I know it could be snow (or, being NC, ice).  But I am SO ready for Spring!

Okay, yeah...I know it's February.  But I'm getting itchy fingers and want to plant stuff, damnit!  I've decided I'm going to try my hand at container gardening again this year.  And damned if almost the minute I told Kent that I wanted to, I got a Burpee catalog in the mail for the first time in *years*.  I used to live for those when I lived in Konnarock.  It was like the Sears toy catalogue for grown up me.

Okay, even for kid me.  Even though we lived in town with impossible red clay soil and a postage stamp yard, I could design gardens for my dollhouses.  Yes, I was a strange child.

Work is going to suck hardcore this weekend.  I work an extra-long shift Saturday with the new GM (to say we don't gel is a gross understatement) while Kent is off, then he works an extra-long shift on Sunday when I'm off.  Phooey.  While I love time to myself, I also love having one day off a week with the spousebeast.  We've gotten used to our Sundays.

I'd planned to go out to do "me stuff" Sunday.  Earlier this week, it was SUPPOSED to be sunny and 72F (L.A. Story weather!).  Now, they're predicting 70F...and rain.  Double phooey!  Although, considering I'm pulling 7.5 days' worth of shifts in 6 days, maybe that's Mother Nature telling me to stay the hell home and get some rest.

In other news...there is no other news.  To mangle a lyric from Abba, all I do is eat and sleep and work, wishing every shift was the last shift.  ;)

Happy Friday, y'all!
Nine years ago today, I walked into a courthouse, signed a piece of paper that my love and I were "no nearer kin than first cousins."  Stood in front of a judge with a paranoid schizophrenic, a conspiracy theorist, and one of the regulars from my barista gig.  He was told "Son, if you want this to proceed, you need to put that ring on her finger."  I was wearing my Jim Morrison limited edition Converse; he was wearing the one and only shirt of his that had a collar.

It's been a wild ride, yet here we are.  I couldn't be happier.
I am happy to have a job that I love, but this one day off a week shit is for the birds.  I spent so much of today in an exhausted sleep that it really doesn't feel like a day off.

(How exhausted, you ask?  Let's put it this way:  I went to take a nap, and Kent opened the door to check on me three times AND I DIDN''T SO MUCH AS TWITCH.  I am a ridiculously light sleeper.  If he stays up late and opens a beer, I wake up.  Flushes the toilet, I wake up.  Locks the door when he leaves at the ass crack of dawn for work.  Yup.  Wide the fuck awake)

I can't completely blame work, though.  I came home Monday to a call from Santa Pete.  He'd fallen *three times* during the day, and couldn't get up this time.  Cue Former PCA Girl(tm).

He needs to go into a facility (NOT Happy Acres).  I know it.  He knows it.  He's offering me, in his words, scads of money to become his private PCA.

I can't, y'all.  Maybe this makes me a horrible human being, but I just can't.  I will swing by every day after work, clean him up (I NEVER wanted to be in a position where I had to insist that someone wear adult diapers again), do his shopping, make sure he has his meds, hide his pot and porn (yes, I AM the friend to ask to clear the browsing history on your computer when you die.  I won't even judge, I promise).  I'll sit and hold his hand.  I will put up with his peevish, childish tantrums.  But I cannot do this as a fulltime job,.

Especially since he refuses to see a doctor.  If he doesn't agree to go this week, I'll just call an ambulance.

So, yeah....doing that, too.  There's a lot of emotional (and literal) heavy lifting going on.

On a more positive note, I've inherited the bulk of a friend's cd collection who is downsizing to move out west (not thrilled with the move.  I love that she is chasing her dream, but who am I supposed to do Margarita Mondays with?  Why do all of the amazing women I know feel the need to move?  What about MY needs, damnit!?!?  ;)  ).  She said to keep what I wanted and sell the rest.

I got SO MUCH store credit at the used cd place.  I was nice and shared with the spousebeast (well, he DID buy me an early supper at Med Deli).  But I got so much cool stuff!

Okay, and "The Rocky Horror Glee Show" soundtrack.  Yeah, yeah....I know.  But I really miss that show sometimes.

Further proof that I am a total nerd:  currently wearing my Life Cafe shirt, drinking cheap chardonnay out of my Rent coffee mug, and waiting for Rent: Live to start.  I hope they don't disappoint me.

Jan. 20th, 2019

Ack!  Haven't been around for a while, have I?  Work is killing me, but I love it.  I come home exhausted, but it's a *good* exhausted.

A couple of my regulars from past jobs have already found me.  YAY!

In other news, I'm a great auntie  <3  Renesmee was due in April, but decided to make an early entrance.  She and momma are doing well.  It looks like her greatest struggle will be being named after a character from Twilight.

I mean, seriously, Shelby?  What were you THINKING!?!?!? (Says the woman named Alicia Marie Bernadette Columbia Scholastica)  I've already said I'm calling her Re-Re.  I take no responsibility for the fact that Kent is going to call her "Re-Bob."  His argument is that, as her great uncle, he's allowed to be obnoxious.

Well, if anyone knows how to be.....;)

Day the first

I am out of practice.  I'd forgotten how "fun" it is to put away a truck with a SIX PAGE manifest.

Yup...first day at the new job.  And when I say I am starting from the ground up, I mean it.  Today, I:

*helped put up the aforementioned truck
*assembled furniture for the dining room
*set up the dining room...then rearranged it four times for better flow
*looked over the POS and realized some things needed to be changed (they were entered incorrectly.  No, we will NOT be selling a "build your own [fill in the blank] for $1)
*filled salt and pepper shakers

AND...

I'm getting my very own label maker on Wednesday!  When K (the BOH guy.  He's my age, has been in the biz as long as I have, and likes Rick and Morty) and I were asked what other supplies we needed, I immediately said label maker...and, once we get things set up, I want schematics for the salad and sandwich stations, so everything goes WHERE IT BELONGS.  He just pointed to me and said "What she said.  And we need one with labels that can be used in the walk-in and freezer.  Because if someone comes in and messes with our system, I have a chefs knife and am not afraid to use it."

I like him.  I think we'll make a good team.

We're off tomorrow, then Wednesday, we are going through the menu item by item and preparing it.  That's too much food for 3 people, so I suggested taking samples over to the tienda next door (okay, I am working somewhere where I pass a tienda, a thrift store, and a specialty oil and vinegar store.  How much money am I actually going to make?).  Good food makes good neighbors.  And, let's face it...if we run out of, say, garlic or paper towels or any of the myriad things a place can run out of, it is gonna be cheaper and faster than trekking a block and a half to Whole Paycheck.

I think I'm gonna like it here.

Pride goeth before a...well, y'all know

Didn't get the job.  At the LAST FUCKING MINUTE, they hired someone from housekeeping who wanted to move to the kitchen.

Internal hiring.  Gotta love it...unless you don't benefit from it.

I managed to not cry on the phone, which is impressive when you consider that I was on the phone with W for over half an hour.  He was babbling apologies.  I was asked if I would be interested in doing banquet work when needed (well, duh!).

As luck would have it, I applied to a new place opening up....from one of the original founders of McAlister's.  He actually ran the store I worked at (before I started).  He hired me in as a shift manager and I start tomorrow.  I'm actually going to be on the ground floor of opening a restaurant!  He wants my input on menu development. dress code....but, lest it sounds too fancy, tomorrow I will be assembling tables and figuring out the best way to set up the dining room.  He wants the place open by Friday, so I think this week is gonna be hell.  I've helped open restaurants befor, and it is brutal.  Because this isn't corporate (although he has an eye into turning it into a chain), we are going to be *assembling furniture*!  I actually had a stress dream last night that all the tables and chairs were from IKEA.

Wish me luck, y'all.

Holy fuck. I think I did it.

Got a call from Hiring Manager.  Now I just have tp talk to Owner, but it was implied that this is just a formality.

Apparently, they do a staff meeting to see if a potential new hire will fit.  Gold stars all the way 'round...aside from the fact that I need to work on my egg skills. (I don't eat eggs, so I can't grouse about that)

Back in the kitchen.  At 45.  And a woman.  At a 4 star hotel.

Watch this space, y'all.  I'm about to fucking SOAR!!!!!