15 July 2011

Here a Foo, There a Foo, Everywhere a Foo Foo

Hi. Remember me? The Mellon? I haven't been hanging around here much lately. Have you been wondering just what it is that could be keeping me from clogging up the interwebs with my stream of consciousness rambling?

No?! You hadn't even noticed my absence? Oh. Well, that's a blow to the ole ego, isn't it? And here I'd put together this lovely photograph-enhanced list itemizing a few of the things that have been occupying space in my brain lately. You know what. I'm going to go ahead and share it anyway, if that's ok with you. What? I can't hear you. Lalalalalalalalala....

So here we go, in some order of importance:

1) I'm a Foo for you Dave Grohl.

Did you know that Foo Fighters released a new CD Tuesday? (They're a band Mom) And they had a documentary out, too? And Dave was on the cover of Sunday Style? It's been a veritable FooSmorgasboard. I think I've listened to Wasting Light about 30 times already. Seriously. My favorite song is Arlandria. Or Bridge Burning. Or I Should Have Known. Or maybe Dear Rosemary. No, These Days. Back & Forth? Oh they're all good--well except White Limo--which I do like right up until the screaming starts. The screeching gives me flashbacks to the latest battle waged in the Amaya/Chase wars, so I can't stand to listen to it for long. Maybe when more time has passed and the wounds aren't as fresh...


2) Reading. I love going to the bookstore--it's like Disneyland to me. Only better because you don't have to wait in line for 20 minutes to get to the good stuff.

Yes, I have a Kindle and an iPad. And sure, nothing beats the convenience of clicking a few buttons and finding the book you want to read on the screen in front of you a minute later. But, I'd never give up my trips to the bookstore. I love to wander the aisles picking up anything that strikes my fancy. And, there's just something about holding an actual book-the feel of the pages in your hand, the smell of the ink. Love.

Right now, I am reading This Is Not The Story You Think It Is: A Season of Unlikely Happiness by Laura Munson

which caught my eye both because the author's name is Laura and I have a thing for Lauras and because I liked the giant horseshoe on the cover.  So far, I've laughed, cried, nodded and had several ah-ha moments. Which is the very definition of a good book in my opinion.

3) Cooking--AKA You Win Some...

Buffalo Chicken Pizza

You Lose Some.

Broiled Salmon or as I like to call it: My broiler hates me and there is nothing more disgusting than the smell of burning fish skin. I mean fish in general is nasty, nasty stuff. Burnt fish? Barf Barf Barf.

4) Heaven. Or the writing utensils I'd imagine they have there anyway. 

5) Spring! And pretty spring skirts. 

6) Spring cleaning my closet to make room for all of those pretty new spring clothes. 

 7 Bags to Purple Heart. How on earth did I ever accumulate enough articles of clothing that I can fill 7 bags and still have a closet jam packed? I think I should probably go try to fill 7 more before PH comes tomorrow. But I get so attached to my clothes. Like they're my babies. I just can't send my babies off to some strange home. No, instead they must stay buried in my closet where most of them will never see the light of day. I have issues. I know.

7) Return of my Cherry Cola Highlights. I just adore that the dye color name is Cherry Cola. Makes me smile because it reminds me of one of my favorite song lyrics: Seeking cherry cola as the bridging wine from Melissa Auf der Mar's Lightning is my Girl.

 

Totally worth those 3.5 hours lost to the Time Sucking Vortex, yes?

Disclaimer: I have no connection to any of the products featured in today's post. No one cares enough what I think to approach me about writing a review. Everything mentioned here was purchased by my own personal volition with my own AmEx. I will in no way benefit from anyone going out and also purchasing said items other than earning the right to say "I told you so."

It came on a wagon

On Saturday while Drew and I were at Mountaineer Field sporting our gold and blue, the kids were in the midst of constant entertainment via the Grandparents at the lake. When we arrived there on Sunday, we got to see first hand one of the many activities in which they had partaken in our absence:

Box play! Drew had ordered a new wagon for the lake since someone had mistakenly removed our previous one from under our deck and never returned it. I'm sure they didn't mean to steal it--who on earth would steal a kid's wagon? Well, it turns out that Chase was much more interested in the box than the wagon. 




I just love this kind of imaginative play. I have very fond memories of turning a microwave box into a playhouse when I was 4 or 5--microwaves were HUGE back then you know. Watching Chase in this box reminded me of one of my most favorite children's picture books Christina Katerina & THE BOX by Patricia Lee Gauch.

In this story, CK and her friend Fats change a box that 'came on a refridgerator' into several different things. Her poor mom always thinks that the box has finally become trash worthy only to hear "That's not a box, it's a castle/race car/dance floor". I think I might have to dig through my stuff and find this book to read to my own little box transformer. Or myself at bedtime.

Tuesday Confessional

I love my Woman's Day magazine. I know that admitting to having a subscription to it will make me seem like a complete dork. But, you know what--I don't just seem like a dork, I am a dork and everyone already knows it. So why not share another little fact that supports argument with you? It's stage one of my plan to becoming more open, so as you can see I'm totally on top of that New Year's Resolution.

Anyway, the point of this little confession is to share with you my utter delight over a regular feature in that magazine. Woman's Day asks it's staff a question every issue and then posts some of the answers on the roll call page. Stuff like "What's your best money saving tip?" & "How do you find time to exercise?". It makes that page more than just a list of names I flip past without a glance. Those little speech bubbles scattered amongst the text makes me notice that there are actual people who work hard to put out that periodical so that I can sit back and leisurely peruse it with my coffee. I savor reading it all the more. So yea I'm a dork, but I'm a dork who appreciates the small touches.

Got tips?

While I was pregnant with the bean, I would often lurk on the August pregnancy board at Baby Center. This was done mainly to convince myself that I wasn't the only crazy, hormonal pregnant lady in the world. I'd commiserate with the ladies' and their stories of morning sickness and heartburn and moodiness and nesting urges, but I didn't go there with the expectation of expanding my knowledge base. It was mainly just an entertaining outlet for when I was too lazy to get off of the couch which, come to think of it, happened more and more often the bigger my belly grew.

Then one day shortly before the arrival of my little cupcake, I came across a ranting post by a young mom to be. Ranting posts are my favorite as I can relate very well to the urge to just flip out over the many annoyances that life can bring. Anyway, this woman was a waitress who at the time was about 8 months pregnant. She was angry because a couple left her a measly $2 tip on a $150 check after they had commandeered a table for the entire evening and kept her running back and forth with their various demands.

Now, it doesn't take an economist to know that a 1.3% tip is woefully inadequate for a server to survive on, but what I didn't know was that she actually lost money on the table. You see, I wasn't aware that some restaurants require that their serving staff contribute a set percentage of their total sales to the hostesses and busboys. I think she said it was 2% but details are not my finer point, so it's very likely that I'm wrong on the exact figure. If it was 2%, that means she had to put $3 into the kitty for support staff when she had only gotten $2 from the customer. Now, my stellar math skills come into play as I realize that she had to pay $1.00 for her time and the pleasure of waiting on that party. And this doesn't even factor in the taxes that she'll have to pay on the gratuity, or the fact that her hourly wage is well below the national minimum.

In this particular situation, the low ball tip stung even more as the waitress only had three tables in her section that evening, so the difference was not as easily made up by customers who tip appropriate amounts. I knew about lousy tippers, table turnover, taxes and having to share tips; but I never considered all of the myriad of ways that those things could impact the server and her ability to earn a living.

As someone who spends a lot of time eating out in restaurants, I was quite perturbed by this new knowledge. I've seen how hard many waitresses work, and to think that they would do so without proper compensation made me feel enraged for them. I was still riding this wave of ire when I happened upon this book while browsing in Barnes and Noble:



Of course I had to purchase it. But being pregnant at the time, I quickly forgot it until I found it the other day. I put it in my suitcase this past weekend and proceeded to devour it at the lake. The author started out as a 30 something blogger who wrote about being a waiter in an upscale restaurant in NYC. This behind-the-scenes peek into the restaurant business developed a huge, devoted following that lead to the writing of this book. The blog's address is www.waiterrant.net, but I have to warn you that his recent entries are mostly self-promoting plugs for his book and media appearances. It seems that he may be a bit consumed by his own success at the moment. I recommend going back and reading the archives for the good stuff.

In the book, The Waiter writes as though he his speaking to you in a way similar to how a father would sit his son down to be regaled by the older man's hard earned words of wisdom. This relaxed prose made for an easy read. I enjoyed his distinctive, dry wit and his sprinkling of illuminating metaphors as he exposes the existence of a culture within the food industry that I am sure most diners are completely unaware. I know that I'll never look at my server the same, and I will most certainly be on the lookout for some of the extreme customer personalities that were so humorously brought to life in the book. Having learned from a firsthand source the many ways a wronged server can enact revenge upon his charges, I'll be sure to be on my best behavior when eating out. I certainly don't wish to become the star of another waiter's war story filled memoir especially since I no longer have pregnancy hormones to blame for all of my poor behaviors.

For those who may be wondering what I've been up to lately

I've been reading this:

It is a humorous look back at life of an ordinary boy growing up in 1950's Des Moines. Well, he isn't entirely ordinary as few people can describe events, places and customs with such finite detail while maintaining a constant balance between the factual information provided and the overly enhanced, if not completely imagined happenings that weave their way into Bill Bryson's memoir. And even though I'm of the eighties generation myself, I did watch Stand by Me, Peggy Sue Got Married and A Christmas Story so I had very reliable references for which to relate the reminisces provided in this book. Hollywood is after all nothing if not 100% accurate in its period portrayals.