Anything Goes

Yesterday was counseling day at Casa Peach. First T-Bird, then AZ. Yeah, haven’t heard much from those two lately, have you? I suppose those Detroit natives are on some kind of wavelength.

T-Bird’s old man called and said she was having a meltdown and could I come down and soothe the savage beast. Not that it took much soothing, just some well-meaning and well-placed advice, not that she’ll follow it because, as we all know, you can’t tell peeps anything.

AZ is a month out from W-Day. He’s having anger issues again and for some reason he feels as though I have some profound insight into this problem. Actually I do, that’s why he called me and I was honest. He got really quiet a few times and I suppose me telling him that he needs to let the past rest and start fresh with a new marriage, a new wife, and a new attitude had some affect on him. Well, maybe, maybe not, after all, you can’t tell peeps anything, especially him.

AZ and I share at least one difficult fault - the inability to show vulnerability. I pointed this out to him and told him that I got a firm dose of vulnerability and actually allowing people to be there for me when the house burned. Ms. Independent got her ass kicked. I reminded him, again, that there is a difference between being there for someone, someone being there for you, and actually allowing someone to be there for you and that means showing that soft underbelly, which we all know is there anyway, so just come out with it already!

Sometimes I wonder if he holds on to his anger because he’s afraid there’s nothing else inside himself or outside of his constant need to right every wrong with vengeful pride. I told him that even after 15 1/2 years, there are still things I have no idea about, things I really should know about him, and he leaves a lot to inference on the part of what friends he has. He even pointed out he has very few actual friends.

For her part, T-Bird was able to give me some very good insight into myself and future relationships. Actually, she was quite positive about my chances of finding someone that I can find balance with. One thing that has bothered me about my desire for independence, yet also wanting a meaningful relationship, was whether or not I was shooting myself in the foot. I had no (and really don’t have any idea now, just a better picture) of how independence and meaningful go together, since she lives it every day and I’m still trying to wade through the muck.

We also made a list of potential suitors, sorted by job category, that would make good matches for me. Airline pilot, touring musician, long haul trucker, even semi-pro and pro-football, baseball, basketball, hockey, soccer players, blah, blah, blah. Then again, maybe it could just be someone with an interesting, full, independent life like me. I’ll be interested in meeting him in the near future.

The shingle is still out so if anyone has any burning questions for Dear Peach, leave them in the comments and I’ll do my best to provide worthy insight.

Tomorrow, I have a day off, in the middle of the week! And, oh my hell, Nate will be AT SCHOOL! That means I have the whole day, well from 8 a.m. to 3:45 p.m. minus drive time and all that shite, to MYSELF!

That means I can go pick up Nate’s prescription and spend a shitload of money getting it filled, have lunch at the restaurant, go to Wal*Mart and buy cat litter and that vacuum cleaner I’ve been wanting, and wash clothes, and dishes, and change the litter boxes, and clean the house!

Wait, wasn’t I supposed to have a nap in there somewhere? And what about that amulet bag I’ve been meaning to make? And that book I wanted to read? And the pictures that still need hung on the walls? And that TV stand that needs bought and put together?

Day off, my ass!

I’m not excited anymore.

Fuck.

I’m tired. *Yawn* I didn’t get home until 1:30 this morning. I felt like I had sweated off about ten pounds by the end of the evening. It was a smashing success. Did I tell ya’ll it was an engagement party for a young couple and 250 of their closest friends?

When we arrived, there was a huge white tent with the sides drawn back in the front yard and two large fans. A few tables with chairs and five high tops without chairs. Tables for the buffet and bar, a place for the band, and on the back patio/terrace, another bar was set up. There was another buffet set up inside the house as well. Large, fragrant bouquets of flowers, perfectly manicured lawn, even matching flowers and greenery planted in the ground for the occasion. Small, medium, and large, pink, lavender, and white lantern balls appeared to be floating from the tent ceiling.

It was absolutely beautiful and much more than any of us (staff) could ever imagine for ourselves.

The host, hostess, and their family were wonderful, classy folks. I suppose we all carry stereotypes of rich and poor folks, and I’m sure we all know folks who belong to one or the other class that destroy that stereotype and those who personify it. I meet both types, which is what makes my job infinitely entertaining.

One such entertaining chap was a man who the Gods of yore surely smiled upon. Literally, he could have graced the cover of any magazine without blinking an eye. I first saw him later in the evening, as I had been working the bar, floating through the house, floating through the crowd, delivering drinks, busing the tables, delivering ice, making drinks, making more drinks, and delivering more drinks.

Obviously I caught his eye before he caught mine because he made it a point to compliment me on my superior people skills, my bright smile, and how he could tell I truly enjoyed my job. (Actually, I think he asked when we had started serving quail and I referred him to one of the evening servers.) He works for the insurance company that underwrites our insurance at the restaurant, so he’s very familiar with it. The last time they came in for a meeting in the conference room, he happened not to be with them. Schade. This lead to a brief conversation as to how I came to work at the restaurant and literally how I bullshitted my way into the job with the barest of actual experience.

The next time I brought drinks around, including a set of chilled shots, he told me he’d better not imbibe because if he did he may become too intoxicated and start hitting on women (which gave me the feeling that he meant me). I raised my head to say something and as I did he bent down. I said, “I think you’re good looking enough that no one would mind.”

Suddenly, he’s looking directly into my eyes, and they softened, “Thank you.” I smiled. I made a few more rounds and eventually wound up back at his and his friend’s high top. This time they had joined some rather lovely ladies. As I delivered the drinks, Adonis said thank you and looked at me again and I was overcome with the, “Omigod, he’s thinking of kissing me! May Day! May Day! Abort! Abort!” I missed part of the conversation since demigod and I were standing there staring at each other but heard this, “NO! I want to meet your little friend.”

Oops. Someone explain to me why Adonis is standing there staring at me like he’s going to tip me backwards and land a Rhett Butler on me while his date/girlfriend/whatever is standing right there???? Booze? Cad? I’m astounding beautiful and he couldn’t help himself?

One would think after hearing “little friend” that she’s going to pitch a major hissy. Yet, when we introduced ourselves and shook hands, I only felt a twinge of pure cattiness beneath her beautiful exterior. However, Adonis and I were both silently chastised and did not speak for the remainder of the evening. Matter of fact, we both went out of our way NOT to even look at each other.

I sure am having brief memorable moments this year. Maybe they’re preparing me for something bigger. Yeehaww!

I’ve been hissin’ mad over catching this August cold. Makes it harder to breath and do just about anything else.

It was 103* when I got off work at 20 til five. The heat index though was only 106* or so because humidity had only crept up to 36%.

We have a catering job tomorrow for 250 people… outside. Temp tomorrow - 97*. Clothes we have to wear - black. Gatorade is my friend.

I’ve worked at my new job now for a month and a week. Today was pretty rough in terms of it was very busy with large groups. My first group was seven 11 to 12 year olds, fresh from middle school orientation. One of the girl’s mom’s is a regular around the restaurant and she swung through to let me know the specifics, saying she would return.

I’ll have to preface this next part by explaining that on one side of the restaurant we have 13 tables, numbers 1-14. We skip #13. On the other side are tables 15-22. Table 20 is situated at the end of the rows of tables and has another name and is also called the Chef’s Table since it is closest to the line. We can seat up to 10 folks there. If you work the back section, you have tables 5-10 and table 20, which I did today. If you are a bartender, you work 15-19, 21, and 22.

When the lady returned, she brought another group, including herself, of six. The largest booths closest to the Chef’s Table are 8 and 19, 8 being in my section, 19 being in the bartender’s section. My #8 was already reserved for one of our evening bartenders, his sister, and her month old twins. (I was very pleased that they requested that I be their server, btw.)

Our bartender is … easily flustered, despite the fact she has considerable more serving experience than I do. When I saw the second group, the hostess and I took them back to 19 and were in the process of discussing whether or not I should take the table and I said that it would have to be up to the bartender as it was her section. The bartender said, “I just can’t handle this right now.” (Later, she said that it was due to the complexity of the checks, but in reality, she could have waited on the table and it would have been fine because the guest paid all the checks separately to help me out.)

About five or ten minutes later, the hostess came up and said that she had to seat my section again and I said, “WHAT?” She said, “I ran out of room, I have no where else to put them.” My assistant manager came up and asked how she could help and I just asked her to help me with getting drinks and orders and I would take it from there (she’s getting married TOMORROW and the kitchen was busy getting her cake ready etc. etc.)

I’m under a lot of pressure to cash out the middle schoolers and five of them had cash. The lady at 19 was going to go ahead and pay for her daughter, another girl, and her table, all separately via credit card so I wouldn’t have to have the manager transfer the checks. Well, I have to go to the bar for cash. Bartender is there but informs me that she is too busy to cash out my table and to have the assistant manager do it.

Pardon me, but that really ticked me off. First, once she saw the schedule she started complaining and she was upset. Second, the “being flustered” is more like “laziness.” Thirdly, I knew exactly what she had in her section because I was over there. Of the six tables, I believe she had three 2 tops, and either two 3 tops and a four top or a 3 top and two 4 tops. I had her other table. Fourth, in our team environment, she should have been trying to help me out a bit, yet, she didn’t. Fifth, given the fact I have seven 11 year olds running around near the line, where food is being moved at an alarming rate, telling me she didn’t “have time” to cash them out was complete and utter bullshit.

Further, she also couldn’t find time to get drinks, either for me or our other server, even though she had ONE LESS TABLE. The drinks ordered from my section were made either by the assistant manager, poured by me, or made by me under the direction of our evening bartender, the one sitting in my section with his sister and nephews. Of course, I made them for him, so, no biggie.

At the end of shift, the other server and I were caught in the conundrum of whether to tip out the bartender or not. Our General Manager was wandering around the line as we discussed this and she sat down and talked to us about it. She said she didn’t want folks getting their own drinks so they didn’t HAVE to tip out. It was $1.99. I think I can handle it, it was just the point of the matter. I also told her what had happened that day and that the bartender’s attitude really puts a downer on the servers and hostess when we’re all trying to work together to get through the lunch rush.

Yes, we were all full. But, she had one less table and I know that one of her tables was in no hurry to go anywhere. I had one of those myself, however, I also had guests at table five that were reviewing our conference room for a possible party. I had waited on the lady yesterday and she brought her boss back today and I really wanted her boss to have a good impression of the restaurant.

Luckily, our evening bartender at #8 is a real sweetheart, and so is his sister. Once things calmed down a bit, we all took turns loving on those sweet babies. I blackmailed the General Manager to finish his bill (it has to be discounted by management) before I would allow her to take one of the twins from me. They are so precious and really made my day.

I’m not the only one who has irritations with the bartender. She even managed to piss off the dishwasher, which is nigh impossible as he is one of the nicest, most easy going people I’ve ever met. She knows her wines, etc., I will give her that. But I’m not at all impressed with her work ethic.

Everyone is busy at the restaurant tomorrow. I believe two of the senior servers may speak to management about leaving our day bartender off of the catering as originally intended. She’s already upset about it and given that we have the two day servers, that being me and my second son, and the married couple, who all work well together, why upset that delicate balance amidst a super scorching, long ass day? If we’re going to end up doing half or more of her work anyway, why bother?

However, that decision is not up to me and I will make the best of whatever happens. I’ll do what I did today, turn and walk away. Actually, when I was cleaning up the mess at the Chef’s Table and she was jabbering on, I didn’t even look at her. I couldn’t. I’ve been told by more than one person that I carry my feelings on my face and I speak with my eyes. No need to waste all those daggers.

Wish me luck, ya’ll.

Okay, now that I have the tangled web that is my sorta sex life out of the way, how about a post about the things I forgot to blog about!

Let’s start with a visit from Kenju! Kenju came to town for a class reunion and is good friends with the owner of the building I work in and had already eaten at the restaurant . That didn’t stop her from eating again (Fried Green Tomato BLT) Unfortunately, I was extremely busy that day with a large group in another room but did pause long enough to share the story of being stopped by the po-po and have this shot snapped.

Notice the not so subtle glow of sweat about my brow.

I was also fortunate enough the following day to meet Kenju’s clone, I mean, daughter, while I was working. A beautiful family and a tall one. I’ve also seen her friend on a few occasions since then and it’s always a joy when she comes in.

I can’t believe I didn’t tell you peeps that I saw Black Stone Cherry over the weekend at the Kentucky State Fair. I saw some big, big cows while I was there, lots of chickens and pigeons, the most adorable bunnies evah, and some pretty incredible artwork. You should have been there, especially since a lot of the rooms are AIR CONDITIONED. In addition to seeing BSC, I got to spend some time with Kim and Matt, saw Jess, hugged briefly, and met a few more folks. It kicked ass, as always. I love going to see them in Kentucky because the crowd is everything it should be.

Except… while standing in line, I had my BSC shirt draped over my purse and some very, not so nice, ASSHOLE, stole it. You know, the one I MADE. By the way, butt-munch, that’s the shirt I puked on while in flight to Denver, and I hope the same nasty pukes plague you until you find a way to GIVE MY FUCKING SHIRT BACK, you, as Jess would say, DOUCHE BAG!

For anyone marking their calendars, I will also be seeing BSC September 1st and then, of course, I’ll be seeing Alice in Chains in New Orleans on October 1st. I’m super psyched about X-Fest on the 1st of September as the line-up also includes Papa Roach, Buckcherry, and the mad, bad, burning balls of Hinder.

I really, really wanted Kim and Matt to come up for X-Fest and stay at Casa Peach but Matt had heard it can be pretty wild (mosh pit, body surfing, general debauchery) and when Kim pointed out that I had went to X-Fest last year and survived, his reply was, “Well, Nanner is a badass.” Its good to know my outstanding qualities are recognized and taken to heart.

Nate is starting Middle School next week and I’m not sure who is more nervous, me or his dad. Nate, he just doesn’t want to have to go to school, middle or otherwise.

That’s about it from Casa Peach. Ya’ll have a nice evenin’.

Oh hell. Still not getting this creative thing on right now but I’m trying. Trying to write, trying to design, trying, trying, trying. Argh.

Okay, I’ll fess up. All of this is over a man.

Look, I didn’t know that being intimate with him was going to do this, okay? So, I kinda put him in a tailspin, plus other factors out of my control. It was a combination of things, at least, that’s his story.

My story is, I can’t say no. Challenge me, I’m in. Bad habit of mine. And I’m really not too happy with the whole situation. Matter of fact, I really miss him and after talking to him the other night, well, whatever was there or could have been there, is no longer there. I understand why but that doesn’t mean I like it. Maybe he doesn’t like it either but he has to do what he has to do and I have to accept it.

The dark side of me whispers, “Coward.”

But above all of that, it scared me. It scared me that I was blind-sided by his reaction, no idea that was going to happen until it was too late. No warning and you know, I never gave it a thought because I had a lot of faith that if anyone could handle me, it would be him. Older, wiser, smarter.

We laid the cards on the table. I guess we forgot to flip one over. Even the best laid plans, go awry.

I’m not happy about this, not happy a’tall. But, I’ll get over it.

Oh yeah… can I start over
Oh yeah… can I start over
And get over it

Just tell me this isn’t going to continue to be a theme in my life. It isn’t the first time it’s happened, but I really want it to be the last. Because that’s pretty scary too. Makes me angry with myself, for what reason, I have yet to determine.

Candles red I have a pair
Shadows dancing everywhere
Burning on the angry chair

I’m sad and hurt and I know he’s struggling with his own demons, which doesn’t make me feel any better.

Yeah, its fine
We’ll walk down the line
Leave our rain, a cold
Trade for warm sunshine
You my friend
I will defend
And if we change, well I
Love you anyway

Is some planet in retrograde? I’m thinking something is wrong because I have a horrible case of writer’s block. Well, creative block, period.

Perhaps it is that there have been a few negative things happening around me and to me. I have high aspirations and I really don’t like it when people look and me and say, “Oh, okay, Nanner, whatever.” Even if it may be the strangest, most difficult, “Oh, my Goddess, that will never happen,” kind of thing, I’m probably already well aware of the long shots, yet still, I can handle it if it doesn’t happen.

Sneering your nose up at me instead of asking, “So, how do you plan on facilitating this extreme thing to happen? Do you have a plan? Because the goal is lofty and the odds are not good but I’d love to hear your reasoning.” Perhaps I’m asking too much. Without dreams, we aren’t much are we?

I like doing that though. Pitting myself against incredible odds and seeing what happens. I like that about me. I like it that I don’t just sit on my ass and wait for life to happen, that I go after things, whether or not they work out the way I want them to.

So.

*crickets chirping*

I’m not exactly willing to discuss this lofty goal anymore. I was going to give a hint but I’m not even going to do that. It is extreme but I guarantee if it happens, ya’ll will be the first to know.

I guess that’s it.

Sometimes I don’t write because it becomes entirely too depressing to watch the whiney ass letters flow from my fingertips onto the keyboard and actually have the audacity to appear in written form.

Honestly folks, this has been a shitty year and its been the best year of my life. I don’t believe I have lived a year of my life that has been so full of ups and downs. I don’t mean 2007, hell, its not even over. I mean from September 1, 2006, to the impending September 1, 2007.

Who was I to speak of balance? I meant in other things, not in tragedy and happiness. Fuck that noise. Motherfuck! It’s like being on a capsizing raft that never quite capsizes. Good, bad, happy, sad, irritated, exalted, to each extreme, each and every extreme. And not just for me, but my friends too.

Zelda and Jethro, flush with plans and forging on with their ambitions, are facing an incredibly sorrowful time. Same for Sean, or Doc in the Box, for those who know him as such. My friend John, who I just found out has leukemia, facing his own mortality even as a very dear friend of his, a much, much younger friend dies of cancer.

Life, oh yes, life, it sucks sometimes. It sucks ass.

I’m not sure how I feel about my attitude on this subject. I guess its the, “Fuck with me all you want, but don’t fuck with the people I love.” Always forgetting others feel the same way, always forgetting the incredible caliber of friends I have, yet, how could I because they remind me constantly of their grace, strength, and love?

I miss Kevin. Sometimes I want to go lay down on his grave, just to feel closer to him. I love you, asshole.

I miss Juan too. I guess that became more complicated than I had envisioned or maybe it’s just bad communication. Regardless, I suppose reading my blog inspired him to start his own, so visit Juan in all of his glory at http://sagacioushillbilly.blogspot.com. Juan’s a bit more straight forward than I am, if that’s at all possible. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

And, of course, there’s always the fine words of encouragement and enlightenment from Nate, without whom I doubt I would have laughed half as much as I have this year.

“Awww, MOOOOOOM! Are you listening to Jerry Cantrell again?”

*Sigh* “Yes, Bubba. I like Jerry Cantrell.”

*Rolls eyes* “You know you can’t marry him, Momma.”

*Laughing* “And why is that?”

“Because he’s probably our cousin!”

*Laughing harder* “Like that’s never happened in our family before!”

Life can be pretty damn good too.

I’ve been nursing a secret love. A love many of you have been unaware of for many years, even longer than I’ve been blogging, a love that those who know me best, do not know about. Recently, that love has deepened and intensified, leading me to take a complete leap of faith…

By purchasing this ticket…

Without knowing if I can scrape the money together for the plane ticket, etc. etc. but I couldn’t wait because the Austin show already sold out! My secret love is Alice In Chains. Since the fire, I’ve attempted to catalogue the sheer volume of cassettes and CDs I had. Every time I listen to the radio I think, “Damn, I used to have that CD/cassette.” When it came time to try and start my collection again, I actually made the difficult choice not to buy Alice In Chains. Instead, I bought Jerry Cantrell’s solo albums, “Boggy Depot” and “Degradation Trip, Volumes 1 & 2.”

I like to sit

- Cut You In - Boggy Depot

I love Jerry Cantrell. I loved him with Alice In Chains. I love him more now. He’s an incredible songwriter, in-fucking-credible. I’m trying to find a good way to put this. Jerry makes you feel with every lyric and every note. No, that’s not it. That’s only part of it. Its like he’s Voldemort in a way. He kills a part of his past and put a piece of his pain, his mirth, his sadness, his love, his regret, his addiction, his soul in every song.

Through windows by my bed

And at times, so fucking honest…

You were voted most likely to have your name go up in lights

- 31/32 - Degradation Trip, Volume 2

Beautiful, beautiful voice and he’s so not afraid to take his time with a song. And I love it because his voice and mine are in the same vocal range. No screeching.

However, the lyrics aren’t any brighter or more cheerful than Alice In Chains. The music can be dark, melancholy, angry, and hauntingly beautiful and heartbreaking.

Though you’re always on my mind

- Settling Down - Boggy Depot

And re-reading AIC lyrics and listening to Jerry, makes me really miss my AIC CDs. Actually, I think I had Facelift on cassette. Now, years later, I may just pick up Music Bank, their box set or The Essential Alice in Chains, although I’m really strange in that I like to have all of the different CDs, not just the box set.

It has been a difficult year. While Black Stone Cherry’s music picked me up and carried me, encouraged me, lead me to keep the faith, when I want to disappear and turn off the phone, I listen to Jerry. We have a different kind of understanding.

Wow, it’s 99 here and the heat index is 106. Nate and I braved it yesterday because we were at the pool. Today, I have to help load the van for our catering job this evening. We wear all black clothes. It is going to be fucking miserable. Gah!!!

Danlel came to the pool yesterday with her mother. Then we all went to Wally World together and then back to my house. Danlel’s mom has put on a lot of weight in the past few months, like 40 lbs. I was really surprised. I, for the most part, kept my mouth shut and let her do all the talking. I don’t really have much to say to her. I left the kids to talk among themselves.

I talked to Jeff about it this morning and it’s hard for everyone involved and I see both sides of the coin. At least, I think it’s hard for them as it is for Nate and Jeff, but something tells me Danlel’s mom walks around with a great sense of satisfaction that she has “won” by encouraging Danlel to cut off all communication with her father.

Several hours later…

I just got home from work about 20 minutes ago. I didn’t cater like I was supposed to. They decided it would be better if I hung out at the restaurant and learned how to hostess and to see what the dinner menu looked like, plus, we might have gotten hit hard with an overflow of peeps from the fundraiser that we catered.

Everything was going okay, even had some folks there from one of the other restaurants to observe and help out. Well, that didn’t work out too well and I was sent to help the bartender. Man, we were SLAMMED ALL NIGHT! Talk about a fish out of water. Ya’ll know I love to drink and I can make your standard drinks… margarita, screwdriver, kaluha and cream, open a beer, but ask me for anything else and I just stare at you. However, I still had a good time and I learned a lot.

On the way home, I stopped at a drive thru and picked up something to eat because I was starving! The area right before my city is always heavily patrolled at night so I was sure to watch my speed but I got pulled over anyway because my taillight has a short in it. I also knew that during the move, my new insurance card was misplaced, plus, I’m just fucking exhausted and I have to be back at work at 9:30 in the a.m.

The officer asked quite quickly for my info and I pulled out my driver’s license and yes, I knew why he had pulled me over and no I haven’t been drinking, I’ve been working and without even waiting on my registration card or my expired insurance he said, “Get your light fixed,” walked away, turned his car around and took off in the opposite direction. Thank you, Lord and Lady.

Now, I’m going to bed. Amen, good night, and good luck.