The I-Thing knows all

The I-Thing:  It's everything you never knew you always wanted!  Did you know you can tell it what to do?  It's ridiculously addicting.  Baah Baah, sheep... go get your I-ThinK.  Thats right, it thinks for you.  It reapeats to you.  Absolutely astonishing.

On another note: The lotion is working, or so I think.  Perhaps I am smoking less and therefore washing less.  Perhaps.  On the other hand, the lotion could be working, and my hands could be healing based on the seven dollars I spent a couple days ago.  Who really knows?  What normal individual really cares?  As I was breaking down the breakfast setup today, my supervisor was helping.  I overheard her say, "Who keeps wrapping the butter pats?  They're already wrapped!"  At this point I was poking myself in the rib, laughing just a little. "Wait!  Which OCD person is wrapping the already individually pre-wrapped butters?!  I'll give you one guess: ME!"  Pretty funny when I can actually laugh at the whole thing.

I worked at Avalon last night, and though I don't really know how I feel about it and about the circumstances, I know it was nice.  I know I showed up and filled in for some need that was there.  As any server knows, filling waters and seating people is priceless, regardless of the flow. I didn't work for money, that wasn't the point.  I don't know if I was honestly interested in working for free to "help out," or if the simple thought of waiting at home for Ben that night was unbearable.  Either way, it was nice to feel some involvement.

Oh my gosh, if you ask the I-Thing what time it is, did you know it tells you?!  I should go to bed soon...

I know what you're thinking.  I wasn't involved, and am still not involved.  Well, please read the following, an excerpt from my e-mail, with names omitted, out of respect.

hey ma,

in my experience, glasses which are stacked always break.  Lack of space and storage is the number one reason plastic is used in place of glass.  I think what is needed is better organization/system of the "bussing" station.  (What is going to happen with the old lottery room?  That would make a great bussing station, and would free up room on the dining floor for two to three more tables.)

Also, with the review that came out, business is going to pick up.  With so and so gone, you need to hire people... Servers are very aware that hours are short at times, and college students don't mind a couple/few hours of work here and there.  It's going to be PACKED tonight with Karen Lovely, Ben is a little stressed, and so and so was the only one there when I dropped in at 4 today... six tables are easy for a strong server.... six maybe not so much for a "slower paced" honkey-dorey person... especially when that person is also bartending a full bar.  You don't want service to fail...

I offered Ben for me to come in and "back wait" for a couple hours, if needed, to help out.  His response was that it wouldn't work if you didn't want me there.  Just so you know, if it helps you and Ben, I'm available tonight... I can fill waters and clear plates and act as a liason... all without payroll...

I'm trying to be helpful, but I can't when I'm not sure of boundaries.  Let me know if you need me.

Ask Ben about the glasses, maybe I am missing something?  The glasses we use at Greenleaf are an efficient size, and don't take up too much space.  However, they cannot be stacked.  Pint glasses are expensive, and can only stack two high, if stacked at all....

Call me when you can

Thusly, I worked at the Avalon for the first time.  It was wonderful, actually... though, I'm not sure of exactly why.

I got my first "real" paycheck from Daniel's place last week.  It said $987.00.  Not bad for two week still in the shoulder season.  Still, it's going to get busier.  I wonder what will happen... will I actually supervise?  It's been a couple months, and my intention is always to do-more-be-more-be-the-best-person-there, as intimidating as that may be for others.

Anyhow, just an update.  As the I-Thing said, I have to go to bed... it's late.
Apple iPhone 4 Black Smartphone 16GB (AT&T)

Flick The Ants

I hate ants.  Little black displays of disgust crawling on every counter top in my house.  I find them on my shoes and occasionally crawling up my skin.  I shutter just to think of it.  They're everywhere right now.  I wish there was just a simple way to rid myself of them, but no matter how much I clean, they're still crawling across fucking everything.  Quite disgusting in my realm.

I was going pee earlier (yes, I do that), and one was crawling across the bathroom counter.  I reached out and flicked it as hard as I could.  (I can never bear to actually kill them, if you can believe that.)  To my dismay, it landed about six inches from it's starting point, and wasn't dead.  It just kept on moving, a little discombobulated, but staying the course.

I realized at that second, that my week was like the life of an ant living on my bathroom counter.  Flicked, but staying the course, going for the prize if you will.

Wednesday morning was crap.  I was opening Greenleaf, and actually (for the first time) left on time to clock in at just the right moment.  Cruising along Hwy 99, about a mile from my house, my car froze.  Well, it didn't freeze, it just quit working. (FLICK THE ANT!) I pulled along the side of the road (thank goodness there was a place to pull over to), and sat.  Thirty seconds later, I thought there must be a mistake.  I just bought this car.  I tried to crank the key, turn it over, and nothing.  Was I out of gas?  No, but it sure smelled like gasoline.

I pulled out my phone.  First call: Daniel, the bossman.  He said all was fine, not to worry, that work was under control.  Secretly, I knew he was judging me, wondering if my story were true, or if I was just running late.  I am just like Daniel, in a lot of ways.  Distrust without showing it is one of them.  I sat again for a few seconds, thinking of what to do.  I couldn't call Ben.  In our fight the night before, he had smashed up his phone.  Susan was either sleeping or at work, and with so little days off, I couldn't bother her if indeed she was sleeping.  Dave was unavailable, for unmentionable reasons.  My dad?  Well, he takes forever to do anything, so calling him would be a 10 am opening for the restaurant.  Hmmm.  I could walk home, get the other car.  That would take twenty minutes, at least.  Plus, I still have two children to drop off.  Call a cab?  I have no cash, and my car would be stuck on the side of the road.

I have to call Phil.  Phil is Ben's dad, we've met a few times.  I bought my car from him, as well as borrowed long-term a washer and dryer.  7:15 am, I'm sure, was too early to call.  But I did.  I also called Ben's sister to take the boys to school.  Twenty minutes saved is twenty minutes earned, right?  Phil arrived at the same time Tessa did.  When Phil got out of the car, he said, "Sure smells like gasoline."  He found the fuel line disconnected, fixed it, and I was off in two minutes.  I arrived at work two minutes before 8 am.

That afternoon, Garrett's teacher informed me that Garrett was having a hard time fitting in.  She was worried, and I said I would try to find out what was up.  In the car (which was still running, thank god!) on the way home, Garrett said he was being bullied.  He said kids were calling him "stupid".  He also, with tears in his eyes, said he was "starting to believe them."  (FLICK THE ANT!)

I went straight to mama bear mode.  My cub was in trouble.  I called the principal.

She said things like that didn't happen at Helman, and that she was sorry he was "being excluded" at recess.  She said she would have the councilor speak with him.  NO!  NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!  I didn't say he needed council.  I didn't say it was solely exclusion.  I know he has social issues, and if it were exclusion alone, I might ask for help for Garrett adapting to the situation.  Susan, my son is a victim of bullying.  He is being "name called."  What is your protocol?  What is the protocol of the district?  I need to know your plan of action, or I will create one of my own.  I am nice, Susan, until given a reason not to be.  If your policies in place don't handle it, then I will."


Today, I went to Garrett's school, just to see what was happening at recess, see what he was doing.  He was sitting alone.  It wasn't two minutes later that I was approached by the Councilor of the school (FLICK THE ANT!).  Sure, I'm available to meet for ten minutes, no problem.

No, Garrett does not need council from the school district.  He does not need to be on an IEP.  I realize the school gets money for special needs kids, and I understand why you would push that.  However, I refuse to put a label on a child who is doing just fine.  His social and emotional issues will be dealt with out of the school system, thank you very much.  (At the point, I bet it was her that was FLICKING THAT FUCKING ANT!)

I got home to an e-mail from Garrett's teacher, explaining that he told her we lived in Talent, now.  I needed to fill out an "inter-district transfer," and if it were approved, Garrett could stay at Helman.  FLICK THE ANT!!!!!!!!!!!

Ben was home sick today, and I had to help a little at Avalon.  Just helping open, driving him there, etc.  I didn't want him to pull over puking on his way to unlock the door.  When I got there, the napkins (brand new company, nicely colored napkins) were all different on every table.  I couldn't help myself.  I unwrapped and re-rolled all of them.  FLICK THE ANT!  Is it really that difficult to tell the difference between cream colored (for the table) and white (for the bread baskets) napkins?  Even the ones that were rolled were rolled inside out, seams facing the customers.  I drew the line there though.  I didn't want to OCPD about the whole thing.

I've been like a flicked fucking ant all week long.  Discombulated, but I will sure as hell stay the course.  I just flicked the the last ant of the night.  Then I wrote.  I JUST FLICKED THE LAST FUCKING ANT OF THE NIGHT.  Tomorrow, I'm going to kill them all, then let whomever the fuck cares decide.

Me? A Single Parent? Shocking!

I've had quite a day so far.  My feet are aching, and my after work beer tastes delicious.  Today I have chosen Rolling Rock Pale Ale.  Sad to switch from Black Butte Porter, but the sun is out, so it's time.  I realize I kind of look like Petula Clark,  and I don't care right now.  After all, Down Town is a great song.

Ultimate Petula Clark

Ben said something to me last night that hit me like a ton of bricks.  Well, it wasn't just one thing, actually.  We have been having this ongoing fight for (almost) a year about my children.  I always read the same thing into what he was saying, which to me, was that he didn't love them and never could.  They weren't his children.  As we were laying in bed last night, we were speaking about it again.  He made the comment that I shouldn't fall asleep in the middle of the conversation.  I hadn't fallen asleep, I had fallen silent.  I finally understood what the fight was about.  I finally GOT what he was trying to tell me.

My children are not his.  I am a single mom.  When Ben and I first began dating, anything he did for my children was miraculous to me.  Six months later, I enjoyed that he did things for them, I almost expected it.  Now, a few years or a couple years or whatever later, I write my schedule on the calendar and just expect that he will be here to care for them.  I have assumed him into the "father" position.  I have put him into a place where he doesn't belong.  Sure, he loves my kids.  However, he is also a man with a daughter, has an extra-full-time-job, and stress that would blow anyone away.  The last thing he wants to worry about is passing my children off to an inexperienced babysitter, and explain what to do with them for the day.  That's not his job.

I did the single parenting, single handedly, with two kids for years.  There was no Ben then.  I managed to see the sitter, get the kids to where they needed to go, and hold down a full time job.  I did it all with such ease that others were envious of me.  When they asked how I did it, I replied, "people do what they have to do."

I awoke this morning realizing that the kitchen was a mess and there was hardly any food in the house.  I would get up and run out the door, and Ben would have to clean up after me, decide what the kids should eat and relay messages to the babysitter, all by nine am.  How unfair of me.  I'm thankful I awoke at 5:45.  I did the dishes, placed breakfast on the table and packed lunches for the boys.  They woke just as I was leaving, so I was able to say bye and turn a movie on for them.  Ben said it was a much more manageable morning.  He said thank you.  I said I understood, and I do.

All this on my mind when I walk into work, and I'm slightly discombobulated.  My morning was fast then slow then slammed.  I kept up most of the way, just one step behind for a while.  I finally acknowledged a regular customer who is always reading on his kindle in the restaurant.  He is always silent, always nice.  I offered a little humor and more smiles than usual.  I will remember his breakfast from here on out, I told him.  He said he switches it up from time to time.  I guess I'll always have to check in with him first.

Then, there was the 5 top of high school kids who didn't tell me they were in a hurry.  They had to be at their hotel at nine am, and it was 8: 40.  Right.  Let me just hurry around and rush and push your table (one of my six) right through, and just so you know: It says in bold letters on the table to let your server know if you're in a hurry.  I think they made it out in time.  Thank goodness I'm good, right?

Of course, let's mix in the other 5 top, who I included a gratuity for.  They left a comment card about the gratuity.  They said their food "took too long", and rated my speed of service a 2.  Right, people.  It says on the menu that parties of five or more have an 18% gratuity included.  Also, I don't cook the food.  It's not like it was sitting in the window and came out cold.  Good food takes time, duh.

The final piece of the day at work was the two ladies that had been eating there for ten years.  They came for breakfast at noon, and we were out of hollindaise.  Sorry, no benedict for you.  They ordered their breakfast, and when I brought it to them, they decided they wanted a pancake as well.  I ran to the computer and put it in.  Before I had a chance to get to the kitchen to explain, the cook was out with the manager telling him I rang in a late breakfast.  Granted, he wasn't mad.  I explained and it was cooked.  When I brought it to the woman at table 24, she asked, "is this a blueberry pancake?"  Um, no, it's not.  Would you like a side of blueberry compote?  Jeesze, after ten years of coming in, you should know to come in early for hollindaise, and please, please, don't send back a pancake we made for you after breakfast time, just because you can.

Off to home, and the sitter is here.  It's apparent that she  hasn't done any of the dishes from the day, and the kids are watching a movie at two in the afternoon.  They are watching a movie and it's 65 degrees and sunny outside, and its TWO IN THE AFTERNOON!!!  Lady, you're probably fired, though I can't really call it that.  I think I'll just not schedule you next week.  Guess I should call dad and see what his plans are next weekend, huh?

After I took hold of my house and gained control over it (dishes, windexing the bathroom, making beds, putting laundry in baskets), I headed over to Avalon to take Ben a Vitamin Water.  When I walked in he said, "So I guess I'm GM now."  Whoa, that was fast.  What does it mean for our time and our family?

Well, I'm a single parent.  Ben's time is not my time, and we'll get time together, I'm sure of it.  However, I also have to find a sitter, and remember that I'm going at it alone.  Ben's help is appreciated, and he does what he can.  I just can't expect it.  Stress levels will rise, I'm sure.

I think moving forward into the week, it's going to be important to me to focus on me.  I need to focus on my schedule, my children, my writing.  I have to let Ben do his thing, I can't control what happens at Avalon.  It's not my place.  However, I can make sure the cutting boards at Greenleaf don't smell bad.

I'll make sure I stay in my place this week.

Montepulciano de What?

The way he says "Montepulciano D'Abruzzo" is intoxicating.  Maybe that's what made me fall in love with him.  Maybe it was the first meal at Amuse we had together, our first date.  Maybe it was all the Montepulciano we had on that first night.  I don't know.  However, I know Montepulciano is good and intoxicating, just like Ben.

Last night, when I was complaining about about all the dandelions in the yard, and thinking about murdering them with herbicidal spray or other aweful and ingenious idea, Ben simply said, "You have an edible garden in your yard, you just don't know it."  He made the most delicious dinner.  He braised the dandelion leaves with our Montepulciano, made polenta from cornmeal, and the steak...oh the steak.  The steak was a three dollar sirloin from the local market, which he pounded out and made into two deliciously tender bistro style steaks.  What yum....

I ate dinner hurriedly, like it was the best meal I had had ever had.  I had no idea dandelions could taste so deliciously tart.  Ben doesn't realize how good he really is, or maybe he does.  At any rate, he is not pleased that I am showing you photos and telling stories about our lives.  He fought me for a minute, then he said, "If you insist!"  I do insist.  This is the story of me, my life, and our living with OCPD.  He is a major character, and a genuine friend and lover of mine.  He deserves the respect of being acknowledged.

Speaking of good things, I've had an epiphany.  Maybe it's all the good Montepulciano I've had over the past few days.  However, I've found myself able to look back over the situations in the past which have proven themselves beneficial to me as well as harmful to me over the past few years.  A few of them include the Breadboard, a past relationship (ewe), Morimoto, and moving to Napa.  I am excited to keep exploring my thoughts on those subjects and eventually sharing my findings in the area.

In the meantime, Greenleaf has been good to me, as has Daniel.  It's an atmosphere I'm comfortable in, and Daniel shows respect toward me.  He acknowledges my battles and the fact that I'm off medication, and he himself has become a support in my life.  I had my first almost meltdown today about a cuttingboard that smelled like mildew.  Fucking gross.  I've been saying it for a few days, that something needed to change with the cleaning routine. When you stack twenty cutting boards together and they're wet, they won't dry.  It's not that we don't clean them, it's just that the space isn't allowed to dry them correctly.  Apparently I'm the only server to ever notice.  Go fucking figure. I would like to keep my posts about Greenleaf short and simple, because my paycheck is signed by Daniel, and we all know my writing won't pay the bills.  

I can't wait to begin my waiter's rant for you though.  It's coming, I promise.

I was given the "opportunity" to organize Ben's office, which of course I will take advantage of.  Probably while taking full advantage of a bottle of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, as well.  He's going to be managing Front of House as well as Back of House operations at the the restaurant, and though I don't want to sell myself out to feel some sort on involvement with the restaurant, I know Ben won't have time to do it for himself.  In the end our life together will benefit from my skills as an "everything in its place" kind of person.  I just hope I'm acknowledged for what I do, and not just exploited for my crazy organizing skills.

In the meantime, and on a "me" note, I'm happy to just be; be in the sunshine, be able to mow the lawn and have a margarita with dad after work.  It's essentially the little things that make us happy people, even when it's the little things we disregaurd.