Weekend of Feasts

    I had the best weekend EVAR! My first week as a full-time bookkeeper was alright. I miss having tips in my pocket all the time, but the budget seems to be going well. I managed to have money left over from fifteen days ago - so I took the old man out to dinner on Friday.
     I texted him from the living room. He was working in the garage, as usual, far too late on a Friday afternoon. I just said, "Let's get pizza. In Belleville." I'm surprised he agreed. Rod hates going to the city. Too far, too many traffic lights, too much traffic. But, we went and had pizza at Pizza Hut.
     It was just like the old days when we couldn't really afford diner at a nice restaurant. And, damn that pizza was good after two weeks without dairy and fish. As a side note, I chose to go Vegan (no meat, no dairy, no eggs) two weeks ago, just to see if I could do it mostly. It has been good. But, I cheat every once in a while with some cheese or some sushi. I can't be considered Vegan anyway because I wear leather and wool. Vegan's are very strict about who can join their group. lol
     One of the side effects of my going Vegan has been that I fart and shit a lot more. I get most of my protein from beans and nuts and I assume that has been the cause of my gassy belly. It can be quite painful. More on that later.
     Anyway, it was a great night out with Rod. We bought three medium pizzas for thirty bucks. I ate all but two slices of my veggie lovers in about 15 minutes! Felt really sick after, but I enjoyed every minute of it.
     Saturday, we planned to go out to our family cabin for the night. We got out there in lots of time to just relax on the couch together before we started making supper. Vegetarian and meat lovers chili with fresh, white buns! Yum. All cooked on the woodstove. Washing it down with hot apple cider.
   

We had another couple and their two boys staying with us and my dad and his wife came down for dinner, as well, with their two dogs. I gathered hickory nuts and chokecherries from the forest. Hickory nuts, if you ever get the chance to try them, are so good although tricky to get all of the meat out. Chokecherries are very bitter, but make a very nice jelly that tastes kinds of like grape jelly with a lot of cloves in it.
     After dinner, we had a campfire amid the fallen October leaves. It was a new moon, dark as pitch. Later, I played Monopoly and cards with the boys. It was just a great experience all around.
     But, I was really gassy from the chili. Lots of kidney beans in my chili. I had the kind of farts that feel like they are trying to rip their way out of you from the inside. So, every time I went outside to squat beside the cabin for a pee (no indoor plumbing and the outhouse seems so far in the pitch dark), I would have to push out a big, loud toot.
     Sometime around 11 p.m., I pushed out what I thought was going to be another fart and ended up being a full-sized turd! I was completely unprepared with just a small square of tp, but I made do. Still, I couldn't leave a steaming heap of shit for someone to find in the morning! I had to scoop my poop like a responsible pet owner would do, right?
     I nonchalantly retrieved a pile of paper towels and a plastic bag from the cabin and returned to collect my lawn parcel. Like I said, it was pitch dark. The only light was shining through the windows of the cabin. I made an educated guess about the exact location that my shit would have landed and prayed I would connect with something relatively solid.
    As luck would have it, I grabbed what felt like a cucumber-sized log on the first try! Yay me. I quickly shoved it into the baggie, using another couple of paper towels to wipe up any residual. It wouldn't pass CSI inspection, but surely to goodness no one would be the wiser. I stashed the baggie in the bushes until I could safely deposit it in the trash in the morning. I might have to explain to Rod why the garbage smells so shitty, but he has heard stranger stories from me. None that I can think of off the top of my head...
     Sunday was a great day of rest. I watched Romeo and Juliet, the 1968 version. I did some grocery shopping, paid some bills. Had a nap. Monday morning came too soon. I had a shitty day at work. And decided Friday could not come soon enough.
     Monday night, my dad calls on Rod's cell phone. I answered.
     "Hey, do you know if anyone would have taken a shit at the corner of the cabin on Saturday?"
     I just started confessing and apologizing over and over again. In fact, if I hadn't already confessed to every horrible and disgusting thing I had ever done on facebook already, I'd probably still be confessing things.
     "Oh my god, are you kidding me? Dad I'm so sorry. It was me!! I was going pee and it just came out! I'm so sorry. Oh my god. I am so humiliated right now! I swear I checked to make sure I picked it all up!... Wait a minute... Why are you asking me? Did something happen?"
     Turns out, Dad was walking with the dogs by the cabin on Monday when he noticed Oscar, the little shih tzu, munching on something by the corner. When he got back to the house, all he could smell was shit. Then, he smelled Oscar's breath and WHEW! The dog couldn't stop smacking his lips, for goodness sake!
     What I thought was going to be a secret that no one would find out about, has turned into one of those most embarrassing moments that I just couldn't keep to myself. Think what you want about me, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Family Camping in Algonquin Park

Jack Lake

So, I'm doing this thing lately where I want to check out all the nature trails in Ontario and beyond. It's part getting-back-to-nature, part getting-away-from-people and part getting-rid-of-my-big-ass.

I have recently taken a desk job after several years as a server because, as you may have noticed, I'm not much of a people person. The service industry is just not for me anymore. Someone was going to lose an appendage if I didn't get out of the dining room. Sooooo much passive/aggressive anger builds up day-after-day. I had honestly run out of swear words that were strong enough to release my true feelings. Cumdumpster wasn't even helping anymore.

And, in an effort to release my demons, I have been hiking... a lot. My poor husband spent his birthday doing a 19km hike in the Frontenacs with me. 19 km is about 5 km too long for hiking, just FYI. But, I did get to fuck at the top of a bluff overlooking a beautiful lake. So, in my opinion, it was worth it.

But, a desk job at 40 hours a week leaves very little time for exercise and all kinds of time for mindless face-stuffing. As a result, I have switched from a vegetarian diet (with extra cheese, extra cream and extra butter) to a vegan diet without dairy or eggs. Just so you know, there are eggs and milk products in every fucking thing you would ever want to eat. Still, I am enjoying all kinds of beans and vegetables... and more beans, with beans on the side. And nuts.

Anyway, back to nature. I asked my dad if he wanted to do some hiking with me. Not that I'm afraid of going on my own; I have done nature trails by myself from southeastern Ontario to southwestern Ontario without incident. It would just be nice to have some company now and again. Therefore, I joined him and his wife on a camping trip to Algonquin park in the near north of Ontario on what is probably going to be on record as the coldest night ever in September.

They were calling for a low of minus two! MINUS TWO! That's freezing if you are a metric user. I brought my long underwear, for sure, and lots of extra blankets. Did I bring a coat though? Um, no. Coats are for pussies.

Stopped for a pee at the new McDonald's in Madoc. State-of-the-art McDonald's, that is! And, they gave me a free pumpkin spice latte! Someone had ordered it in the drive-thru, but didn't pick it up. As a vegan, I'm not allowed to have a latte... but it was free. How could I refuse? I took one sip and the clerk says, "You may notice it's a bit sweet. She asked us to put a bit of sweetener in it." A bit of sweetener, eh? I read on the side of the special order tag, "Make with 2 Splenda". Two Splenda is like minus two degrees Celsius - It's two too many. Gawdamn disgusting. The gods have clearly stated that if I'm going to give up dairy, I am to damn well give up dairy, whether it is free or not.

As I make the turn into Maynooth, I see a hitchhiker at the side of the road. He looks harmless. In a split second decision, I decide it is safe to pick him up. Don't lecture me. I live life on the edge. And, I believe most people are good people even though they act like complete assholes when they are at a restaurant. He is a very talkative fellow. In our twenty minute drive to Madawaska, I learn about most of the last 12 years of his life and several details about the people in it. We discover that we both saw George Jones in concert when he was on tour a couple of years ago. Small world. And, we both really like peanut butter cups. I love the randomness of that. Not that most people don't like peanut butter cups, but it's odd that it would come up in conversation so quickly.

I arrive at the Lake of Two Rivers Campground around 1 p.m., set up my tent a short way from Dad's RV, and prepare my nest with a feather bed, a sleeping bag lined with a fur blanket, topped with a cotton throw and another faux fur blanket. I would be warm or die of suffocation trying to be warm.

Took a quick 5 km hike on the Bat Lake Trail. Not much to see on this trail. One lookout was kind of nice. Oscar, the dog, took a big shit there. I guess he had been holding it for a while. That was the extent of my wildlife viewing. 5 km works out to about two hours of hiking, so we were pretty tired by the time we finished dinner (lentil stew with sprouted wheat bread and vegan margarine for me). Cheryl made some hot chocolate with peppermint Schnapps and dad made a  roaring fire for the full camping experience. But, I was desperate to crawl into my nest at 8 p.m.

My eyelids stuck to my eyeballs in the early morning

I was not cold. I read by the light of an LED flashlight for a while. Heard my dad crawl out of his tent and move to the comfort of the RV after about 20 minutes. Decided I would not be comfortable unless I took off my bra. So, I unzipped the sleeping bag, unzipped my hoodie, took it off, unbuttoned my long underwear, slid them off my shoulders, pulled off my long-sleeved t-shirt, removed said bra, and proceeded to re-bundle myself in a cotton cocoon. It wasn't long before I was drifting into a restless sleep, waking every two hours to back pain, shoulder pain, numb arms, pains in my hips. I am too old for this shit. I woke up at one point and couldn't peel my eyes open because they were kind of frozen to my eyelids. That's when I pulled my hat down over my eyes. I was also occasionally awakened by the sound of wolves howling. Lots of them. That was super cool!

Then, I had to pee. It was still dark. But, it was not one of those pees with which you can just hold onto your crotch and ignore until morning. It was urgent and would not let me go back to sleep. I had to get up and go out into the freezing cold and squat by the nearest pine tree. Of course, I didn't bother to slip on my moccasins, so I peed on my damn foot. Didn't notice in the pitch darkness until I felt the warmth creeping through my wool sock, chrissakes. Now I would have to have one cold, sockless foot for the rest of the night.

Needless to say, I did not get a good sleep. I did, however, enjoy the Hemlock Bluff Trail the next morning, having had a very chilly shower without a towel to dry off and a breakfast of granola and chocolate soy milk, drank from my leftover pumpkin spice latte paper cup. I always forget to take towels when I'm camping. But, I survived and I look forward to the next challenge.

Blowin Through the Jasmine in My Mind

Debra Ereaut and Trevor Denault of Craunchy Flower

     I'm not a big fan of summer. It's too hot. I can't sleep. It's too crowded. The traffic makes me want to scream. Tourists! - can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Can't give them directions back to the GTA when they are looking for Sandbanks.
     I AM a fan of Summer Festivals, however. I love the ethnic food, the naked people at Pride, the beer festivals, the fan expos... everything. One of these summers, fingers crossed, I will get to the Toronto International Film Festival. In the meantime, I will settle for the multitude of great music festivals across Ontario.
     Unfortunately, I am a server at a popular small town resort, which means my weekends are always filled with fat fucks who can't get enough coffee and bacon while they let their demon spawn play with the sugar packets and lay in the middle of the aisles.
     I love my job. I really do. I love when you can make a connection with a group of crazy tourists who just want to have some fun. Or a couple who really appreciate your helpful directions and suggestions for the best local attractions. What I DON'T like, is this morning.
     I walked in at a few minutes to 9 a.m. when my shift starts. Turns out, we have introduced a new menu. Yay! All of the tables on the left half of the room are set for breakfast, but people inevitably want to sit on the right side of the room. There is no logical reason for this. There are windows along both sides of the room. The garden is actually on the left, not the right, so the view is better. I have come to the conclusion that some people just like to be difficult and are clearly just cunts.
     These same people proceed to order breakfast. They are, of course, not happy with just having what is on the menu. They want pancakes with sides of sausage, sides of bacon, three glasses of juice, home fries with onions, extra ketchup, more jam, more peanut butter, even more ketchup, sides of tomatoes, fruit not home fries, home fries not toast, toast not muffin, muffin not eggs. "Do you have salsa?" "Can I get tobasco sauce, hot sauce, brown sauce, Hollandaise sauce, cheese sauce, no sauce, sauce on the side, marmalade, jelly, and/or more ketchup?" Breakfast is the worst meal of the day for special requests, I swear.

Beer and Taco. The official meal of summer 2013

     One of our breakfast items, which is limited mainly because it is included in the price of the room rate for guests, is an omelette of the day. So, today was a broccoli and cheese omelette. When I tell people what the omelette of the day is, someone will inevitably ask me if they can get an omelette with something else in it. For example, ham and onions or peppers and olives or feta and smoked salmon... whatever. I find it very hard not to say to these people, "No. If you could get whatever you wanted in the omelette of the day, it would not be called an omelette of the day. It would be called the Get-Whatever-You-Want-In-Your-Omelette, you high maintenance bastard. Take the broccoli and cheese or fuck off."
     Anyway, I needed a break from the madness. A break helps me keep the fake smile on my face. A road trip, with music, and food, and the outdoors, and beer. Get me to the festival! Lucky for me, there was just such an event in Richmond, Ontario, in a berry patch surrounded by pine trees with one of my favourite independent classic rock bands.
     Richmond is only 2 and a half hours away. If I left at 2:30 p.m., I would be there in time to see the band at 5 p.m. All I need is 5 hours travel time, four dollars for a taco, three feet of space, two hours in the sun, one beer, and a zero gravity chair to relax in.


raspberries in waiting

     For those of you who have never been to Rideau Pines, it looks like a beautiful place to go for all your pick-your-own favourites. On arrival, I grabbed a blueberry wheat ale from the Ashton Brewing Company. Excellent! And, then a black bean taco from Ottawa Streat Gourmet - a food truck with flare. I could not have been happier as I meandered through the rows and rows of raspberry bushes. The summer breeze was making me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine of my mind.
     Of course, Crunchy Flower put on a great show. I was itching to get up and dance even though no one else was rocking out. I tried to be nonchalant about it when I got up to shake my hips to I Shot the Sherriff. But, I'm under a canopy of pine trees in a green-striped maxi skirt, with a fanny pack, and big tits. I'm sure I made some people talk. IMHO, I have earned the right to make a fucking fool of myself. I'm 40 now, bitches.
     I am back home writing all of this by quarter to ten. I can still get to bed at a reasonable hour and get to work at 8:30 tomorrow morning to fling plates and pour coffee to all the Canada Day, long-weekend travelers.

The Lusty Month of May

     'Member when I said I didn't celebrate very many things. Well, I will have to add something to the list.

     Wiccans call it Beltane. It is also known as May Day. For me, it has always just been the day I rub my face in the morning dew in order to maintain my youth. You can Google it to get all the facts. Basically, it's a fire festival; a spring celebration to pray for good crops and fertility in the coming year.

     Fire is purifying. Anyone who has run a needle through a flame before using it to pop a blister or remove a sliver knows this. Christians also believe in the absolving qualities of the flames. In a story about John the Baptist, Luke 3:16 states, "...I indeed baptize you with water; but one mightier than I cometh, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire:" If it's good enough for Jesus Christ, it's good enough for me.

     So, here is my version of a purifying ritual for May first. Costs about $20 and 24 hours of bliss :)

      Buy a bottle of your favourite wine. I suppose you can use whatever form of substance abuse you're partial to. But, wine is the beverage choice of the gods. I've got no money, but I've always got wine. In this case, I grabbed a bottle of Sandbanks Baco Noir from the stash. Side note: I'm not usually partial to the young vines of Prince Edward County. Too sweet. More on this later.

     You can perform this ritual by yourself or with a significant other. If you're "that girl", grab as many people as you like and get your freak on. I was by myself though :( Rod had to work in the morning and I don't think he's interested in performing fire rituals anyway.
   
     I am lucky enough to have access to a lovely little cabin in the woods. If you are not so lucky, it works just as well wherever you might be. That's part of the beauty of this celebration. Candles are key, though, and safety is first. So, buy a jumbo pack of tealights for $4.99 that only last for a few hours and set them out all over the place away from any drapes, paper or other flammable materials. Alternatively, set up a bonfire... outside.
  
      That's enough about prep. Here's the story of my evening.

     I left town about 7:30pm. It takes about half an hour to get to the cabin which leaves me enough time for set up before nightfall. The weather was beautiful on Tuesday here. Warm, bright... just beautiful. When I arrived, I took a few minutes (after cracking that bottle of Baco) to walk around barefoot in the grass, breathing in the fresh spring air and all the new things growing. It's quite a workout to walk really slowly, almost tiptoeing, through the woods. A good warmup for the ensuing craziness.

     That wine, by the way... maybe it was the weather or the anticipation. Either way, I took one sip and practically downed the first glass. It was sweet. Like syrup. But, it went really well with the black bean burrito I had for supper from Gringo's. The only time I put down that glass for the next hour and a half was to start the generator. Unfortunately, I had to set it on the shit pot in the shed where the generator is located. I'm not proud.

     Next step, music. Nothing better than a shitty old ghetto blaster with 8 D batteries to play your favourite radio station as loud as possible. I started shaking my ass and lighting candles everywhere. Dancing is so good for your spirit! Gets the blood flowing to all the right places and makes you feel sexy. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. That one song comes on the radio and suddenly you've got a stripper name and you're begging for a Maypole to rub up on! In my case, it was "I Like to Move It Move It" by Reel to Real. That song made popular by the Madagascar movie and the lemurs for some strange reason.

     Other good fire songs:

1. We Didn't Start the Fire - Billy Joel
2. Sex is on Fire - Kings of Leon
3. Great Balls of Fire - Jerry Lee Lewis
4. Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash
5. Fire - Pointer Sisters
6. Light my Fire - The Doors
7. I`m on Fire - Bruce Springsteen
8. Burning Down the House - Talking Heads

    Alternatively, you can get out your guitar and play the part from Smoke on the Water that EVERYONE can play. Dun, dun, duuun, dun, dun, da duuuun.

    So, here I am, in a very hot cabin (the woodstove is going full blast), stripped down to a tank top and my ugliest cotton undies, half liquored (half a bottle of wine down), amid 16 scented candles reflected in all the windows. You would have thought I was Lady Gaga. Bumping, grinding, running my hands up and down my body and through my hair... in hindsight, it would have been a really fucking ugly performance. But, at the time, I thought I was hot shit.

     The bottle of wine was gone by 9:30 p.m. My bonfire was lit, so I stripped down the rest of the way and ran outside through the woods, completely skyclad. Running is maybe not the right word. Frolicking or stumbling might be better. It is quite liberating being naked outside and I recommend it highly. Back at the fire, I danced some more, skin bronzed by the light of the fire. Part of the purifying process is to become one with the flames. Not literally, of course. Ouch. But, just make your body do the same things that the flames are doing. My friend, Amanda, is the best at dancing like a flame. It's like she has no bones when she's dancing. So, I tried to emulate Amanda. It can be quite disorienting and dizzying - watching flames and matching their movements. I needed to lay down on the grass for just a minute.

     Ten to twenty minutes later, I woke up with wet grass tickling my face and feeling the damp chill of the night in my bones. Time to stumble back to the cabin and warm up. I flopped down on the couch, arms above my head, waiting for The Horned God. This is where a partner would come in handy - or a group if you're "that girl". It's a shame for all that sexual energy to go to waste. ;)

Downloading Mom for Easter

     We celebrate six things every year at our house - Spring, Summer, Fall, Halloween, Winter and birthdays. Those are the things that are important to me.


Me and Heather
Celebrating St. Patrick's Day
...just for work

     Not a big fan of New Year's. If I need an excuse to drink an entire bottle of champagne and kiss somebody at midnight, it will be because it is Tuesday and someone gave me a bottle of champagne. Valentine's Day? Please. Every day is Valentine's Day when you're married to your true love. Of course, it helps if he likes to eat at the Y. ;) I'm not Irish. St. Patrick drove the "snakes" out of Ireland. That's not a nice thing to do to snakes. Canada Day means fireworks and barbecues. Yet another tradition we have stolen from our neighbours to the south and tried to pass off as our own. Just like Thanksgiving.
     Yeah, I'm a party pooper. When the kids were younger, I used to celebrate everything. I would research all the world's holidays - Chinese New Year, Chanukah, Ramadan - just to have an excuse to do something special. But, now that my kids are grown, I don't feel so much like celebrating. I just miss them.
     To celebrate spring this year, I decided on two things. First, I was going to use silk to dye my Easter eggs. I think I saw this crafty idea on Pinterest or somewhere. I bought about 8 silk ties at the local second-hand store MONTHS ago and was (surprisingly) able to find them tucked away in a box in the garage this morning.


Silk Dyed Easter Eggs

1. Cut squares of silk big enough to completely cover your eggs from ties, shorts, scarves.
2. Cut bigger squares from white linen (old pillow cases or sheets) so that you can wrap the individual eggs and tie them with a twist tie.
3. Wrap each raw egg with a silk square and then cover with a linen square and secure tightly with a twist tie.
4. Bowl enough water to cover the eggs in an oven safe glass or enamel pot. Add at least 3 Tbsp. of vinegar.
5. Pour the boiled water over the wrapped eggs in the glass/enamel pot. Put in the oven at 350 C for 20 minutes.
6. Let cool for 10 minutes and unwrap.

     I found my eggs were not as bright as I would have liked, but the designs were cool. My daughter suggested I needed more vinegar in the water.

     Speaking of my daughter, she lives four hours away! So, the second thing I decided to do to celebrate spring was a trans-provincial Treasure Hunt. I can't be there in person to hide some eggs, but I can get a little help from some people at The Covent Garden Market in London.
     I was originally inspired for this idea on an episode of Dragon's Den that featured a delightful chocolatier from the London area. Chocolate is not like pizza. You cannot call and have it delivered. The next natural step (in my mind) was to send the recipient on a quest. In this case, I could give Alexis directions via text to have her pick up her treasures.
     This re-creates the fun I used to have with the kids when they were young. I gave them little slips of paper with clues to take them to the next clue, and the next, until they found their stash of Easter chocolate. They never much cared about the chocolate. It was always about the hunt.
     Therefore, a one-stop treasure hunt for some truffles would not be enough. I decided to include some tea, from the Tea Haus, and a bouquet of flowers from Esther's Flowers and Gifts.
     All of the Tea Haus' loose leaf teas can be found on their website www.theteahaus.com. I chose a small bag of Gyokuru and a small bag of Star of China - both very cool teas that I can't wait to try. One call and $17 later by credit card and I had one treasure.


Easter Bouquet
From Esther's Flowers

     I presume I talked to Esther from Esther's Flowers next.You can find many of her arrangements online at www.evonasflowers.com. I didn't think she really understood what the hell I was doing. I'm sure the cut flower industry deals with mostly anniversaries, birthdays and funerals requiring deliveries. Not treasure hunts in which the recipient will come in with a secret password in order to receive their flowers.
     Finally, the piece de resistance - THE CHOCOLATE. I'm a little early for the traditional Easter celebrations, so the chocolatier and I decided on a sampler box of truffles with a rabbit-shaped lolly. I told him I wanted my daughter to say, "My name is Alex. Are you the Easter Bunny?" when she arrived for her treasure. But, I assumed she would be too embarrassed to say this. He took that info and ran with it. Seemed very eager to play along with my ruse and I love him for it :) Check out www.forratschocolates.ca
     She called me in the afternoon, ready for an adventure. But, not expecting to have to leave the house. "How the hell am I going to do a treasure hunt in your house from here?" I asked. When we hung up, my son-in-law would randomly giggle to himself and say things like, "Maybe she got you a puppy and it's sitting in a parking lot frozen to death because you were supposed to do this yesterday." Or, "Maybe your mom came to visit, and she's been sitting in a parking lot somewhere, freezing to death..." etc. Such a morbid little bastard. He's so cute.

    

 The Following took place via text:

 

 

On Google maps, find the

street with the EXPENSIVE

WORLD name. Turn south.

Then turn right on

street that should have

NEW in front of it.

Then turn right on the

street describing a LOFTY

ASS

Turn right again on RUE ROI

 

Okay, I get King Street (rue roi),

Talbot (lofty ass...tall butt),

and (new)York... But, what's

expensive world?

Rich Monde

Argh! Duh

So in the market! I'll

text you when I'm there

Make sure you park in

 the underground. It will

save you money.

Lol. Yes mom otherwise the

directions are false. What's

next?

Go up the King Street

stairs to the second floor.

Once you're on the second

floor, you will see the Tea

House door.

Haus? Lol

Haus, yes.

Fucking Swype

Go in and say, "My name

is Alex. Are you the

Easter bunny?"

 

To who?

The lay behind the counter

I guess

LADY! not LAY!

LMAO! hahaha

THANK YOU! WHAT'S NEXT?

Down stairs. You will

see a flower shop with

a girl's name. She

didn't really understand

 what I was doing. So

just tell her your name

is Alex.

This flower woman loves you!

I'm glad. I was worried she

thought I was fucked

How is the tea?

I had a Tim Horton's coffee,

which she was offended by,

so she gave me a free tea

coupon for later

Ugh. Oh well. I should have

 told you

Now find the collars made

FOR NASTY VERMIN near

market lane

Not collars. CHOCOLATES.

Fucking Swype

And tell them who I am?

Ask if he's the Easter

Bunny

He really played along :p

Oh Em Gee!!

That's it. I'll call you when

you get home

 

 

     When I called, she sounded just like the excited little girl I remember and it made my day. Unfortunately, the report on the Tea Haus was negative. When she asked if they had something for her, they initially said no. Eventually, another server realized who she was and said, "I do." Then, with disdain, "I guess your cup of tea will go really well with your Tim Horton's."

Star of China tea

 

     The flowers from Esther's were absolutely gorgeous. I was expecting some tulips and gerberas for $40. But, there were yellow and red roses, lilies, gerberas and carnations. Alex was very happy.

     Of course, just as I thought, Alex tried to get away with  saying, "Hi. Do you have anything for Alex?" from Forrats. She laughed at my description. FOR NASTY VERMIN.... aka FOR RATS. ("I knew right away what you meant. lol.")

     The chocolatier replied, "I miiiight have something for you, but WHOOOO are you looking for?"

My daugher and her boyfriend

     And, that is how I got my 20 year old daughter to ask a complete stranger if he was the Easter Bunny and laugh about it.



New Moon on Monday with Lily Allen and Cee Lo Green

     It's just one of those days, ya know? I woke up at 4 a.m. Wide awake and determined not to get out of bed because 4 a.m. is just ridiculous. The time change has messed me up, as usual. So, I dig deep down under my faux fur throw and my polyfil duvet and will myself to drift back to dreamland. The alarm woke me up three hours later at 7:30, which is really still 6:30 from my perspective. Daylight Savings Time is Bullspit!
     I get to work at 7:55 with puffy eyes and crazy bedhead. The kitchen opens at 8 a.m., but there's always that ooooooone gawdamn chipper couple, who like to "get up with the chickens" and have "breaky" ASAP. They were already making themselves to home in the dining room. I would call them assholes, but this particular couple is in regularly and I actually quite enjoy them. I just wasn't very happy to see them before the kitchen staff had even arrived. And, before I had made coffee or anything.
     Then I read the note. The evening shift left a little note to say that the water glasses had not been polished. To paraphrase, evening staff's shit does not stink, but day staff suck big donkey dicks. That's how I interpret it anyway.
     I have worked day shifts and night shifts, so I know both of us screw up, forget, get lazy, screw the pooch a little... whatever. Now, I wouldn't mind the occasional reprimand as long as you throw me a bone (for the dog I'm fucking, lol) every once in a while. How 'bout, "Hey, thanks for vacuuming underneath all of my tables on Saturday because I didn't have a chance to vacuum at all after my shift Friday night." Or, "I appreciate you folding all those napkins on Sunday afternoon and resetting our tables for us, because we were swamped and couldn't leave you any clean cutlery or folded napkins or stock any coffee cups for you. Sorry, if you had to do all that on top of all the other wonderful things you do :)" Anyway, to hell with co-workers. They suck sometimes, but I love the crazy bastards anyway. (I have to say that, some of them will read this. haha)
     It is Monday. We had a fairly busy weekend in the resturant. The food order doesn't come in until Tuesday. This means, we have a limited amount of food. Limited eggs means limited specials and limited pancakes. Fortunately, everyone decided to have the fresh fruit plate.
     As a side note: If you order a "fresh fruit" plate in winter, and are subsequently shocked to get a bowl of fruit cocktail with mostly melon, it is my humble opinion that you're an idiot. Fruit does not grow in Ontario in winter, so "fresh" is a subjective term in the food industry.
     You are also an idiot if you pay $12 for breakfast at a resort when you can get the same stuff at the diner down the road for half that price.
    To continue, I had two ladies come in today - along with six other tables of two. That's 14 people of you are keeping track. I feel I am on top of things. Everyone has menus. I'm working on getting coffee, water and orange juice for everyone. I also have to take a few minutes to explain the breakfast special with a big smile on my face.
     As a side note: If you order coffee, water AND orange juice with your breakfast, it is my humble opinion that you are a douchebag. Particularly, if you order all three things separately so that the server has to make three different trips to your table. Also, you are too thirsty and you have diabetes. And, you will pee your pants.
     Anyway, these two ladies (who I would call regulars) were waiting for a third friend, who arrived a few minutes later. I was just putting an order for another table in to the computer, when I hear the third lady ask why they don't have coffee yet. The other ladies whisper (loudly enough that I can hear them only a few feet away) that the waitress hasn't returned to the table since she brought menus. I look over to let them know I can hear them and, as I am walking past their table, the third lady says with all the self-righteous indignance that her blue hair can produce, "Can we get coffees over here?"
     I just stared at her for a second and said I would be right over. When I returned with three coffees, one of the first two ladies says, "Oh, I don't want coffee. I'll have orange juice... and water." While I am pouring juice, I can hear them clear as day saying, "I don't know what the problem is. When the other girl is working, it's so well organized. Everything just runs tickety-boo."
     Well, fuck you. Fuck you and your smooth sailing, bullshit life, you dusty old prairiefart fuckdouche!
     These are some of the swear words that run through my head while I try to convince myself NOT to lick her cutlery. Instead, I politely say, "I'm sorry you aren't happy with the service. Let's see if I can't be better." And, I take their order... for fresh fruit plates.
     Around 10 o'clock, my shift is almost over and I can start re-stocking, cleaning and vacuuming. A table of two walks in and sits at a dirty table. So, I go over and sweep off some crumbs, clear some plates, get some menus, etc. I had just set down the knife and fork when the woman shakes her head, picks up the fork I had just set down and proceeds to determinedly replace it on the LEFT of her knife. As though she was offended by my ignorance. Now, don't get me wrong. I would love to offer people the most grandiose and luxurious breakfast experience possible, and that entails proper fork placement, as well as, relaxing atmosphere and good grammar. But, sometimes, motherfuckers sit at a dirty table. To boot, they wanted pancakes... and we were out of pancakes. This makes me a double failure.
     So, I'm done with Monday. And, to celebrate, I made the following two recipes. ENJOY!

SHERLA'S FUCK YOU CARB-FREE SHRIMP AND CABBAGE DINNER

 

 

Heat up oil in a frying pan. It doesn't matter how much. Use butter or olive oil or coconut oil or whatever gawddamn greasy shit you have. It just doesn't matter. Fry up some onions and some frozen shrimp with your favourite spices. I used parsley, oregano, pepper flakes and some stuff that Nate gave me. Nobody gives a CRAP what you put in it. It will still taste good. Blanch some cole slaw mix. You can buy it in a bag at No Frills for $1.49. Set aside. Add a small can of diced tomatoes to the shrimp mix and a bit of minced garlic. Thicken with a scoop of tomato paste if you want. Then, add a dollop of mayonnaise. Why mayonnaise? Because "fuck you", that's why. Mix with blanched cabbage mix and top with cheese. Or don't. I don't really care.

 

 

 

BATSHIT COOKIES

cos you're crazy if you don't like 'em

 

To make them, take all the shit out of your cupboards. Beat 1/2 cup soft butter with 1/2 cup soft margarine, 1 1/2 cups brown sugar, 1/1 cup sugar sugar and some vanilla. Add 2 eggs and beat some more. In a separate bowl, combine 1 1/2 cups flour, 1/2 cup some other flour (like whole wheat or teff or red fife), 1 tsp baking POWDER, 1/4 tsp bkg SODA (Why even bother? Is 1/4 tsp gonna make a difference?) Some salt. 1 1/2 rolled oats, 1 cup rice krispies, 1 cup chocolate chips, 1/2 cup of something else you like and 1 cup of coconut. ONLY USE YOUR ONE CUP MEASURING CUP FOR ALL OF THIS OTHERWISE YOU ARE A CHEATER AND A FAILURE AT LIFE. Bake at 350 for 12 minutes.