Apparently I am becoming a lesbian

Today was kind  of amazing. My dad and stepmom picked up the boy and I and we went to brunch at this really cool restaurant that sits on the river. The weather was perfect, the atmosphere was gorgeous, and the general manager is a friend so our bill went from $111 to $57. It pays to work in this industry sometimes. Well, it barely pays. But the perks are nice. 

Then we had a lazy afternoon and the boy and I walked to our favorite spot for dinner and beer (they have happy hour from 11 - 7 ALL WEEKEND) and walked through the park and back home. This is why I never blog. I am out DOING things instead of sitting in the suburbs wishing I was out doing things. Honestly. This day never would have happened three months ago. It was the epitome of everything I want from living in the city. 

During dinner, we were discussing our single friends and the following conversation happened:

TB: Last night a friend asked me who I would let you become a lesbian with.

Me: Who you would let me become a lesbian with?

TB:Yeah (totally missing the point of me emphasizing "let")

Me: I cannot wait to hear this.

TB: Well, I originally said Krackle, but her name is the same as your sisters and that weirded me out.

Me: Um. OK? Because this is a very realistic conversation.

TB: So, instead I went with that new girl you picked up on the street and that girl you work with.

Me: The lesbian that I work with?

TB: No. The other girl.

Me: The very straight very married one?

TB: Yes. Well, it's not like this is actually going to happen.

Me: Clearly. Why did you have this conversation again? 

TB: It's just hypothetical. 

Funnily enough, I was aware of that.

On a very lesbian note, Big Jed and I have been texting back and forth about the lack of ample boobs on the beach volleyball team. I sent a text that actually said "fuck those bitches and their itty bitty titties." To which Big Jed responded "cunt rags, all of them." This is why we are friends.

And for the record, it would so be Big Jed or Krackle if I went lesbian. But the other two chicks are pretty hot too.

Get your very short news updates here!

I am full of news! Except I can't type! So it is going to be a very short blog post. We will begin with why I can't type. I got my finger caught in a meat slicer at work. Let's just say it is a good thing it was too dull to cut through bone. Or I would be missing the entire top joint of my right pointer finger. I will not be posting pictures of this one because, guys, gross. It is really really gross. There will be a very deformed, scarred finger in my future. 7 stitches. On my finger! 

In happier news, Krackle gave birth to Krackle Jr II today. He looks exactly like his big sister did at his age. Also, he is huge! 8 lbs 6 oz! I got to go and hold him today, and despite the incessant pooping, I am head over heels in love. LOVE. I am so happy for the Krackle family!  A friend of mine from high school gave birth to twins about 15 minutes after Krackle, so I woke to Facebook plastered with newborn pics. It was kind of awesome.

That just took like 20 minutes to type. Ugh. Maybe it will be wordless, let my finger heal, week.

UPDATE: I totally forgot the biggest news of all! A restaurant critic came in today and had the soup and said it was the best he has ever had at our restaurant. AND I MADE IT. Sorry to be a giant dork, but it was huge. I almost jumped up and down.

Kitty Comforts

When Krackle and I were roommates, she had these blankets. I don't know how to explain them. They were torn apart and threadbare and amazing. She called them kitty comforts. There were always two, one for her and one for me. We spent hours curled up under these blankets. The name came from the fact that cats always look comfortable, no matter how they are laying. And it certainly didn't matter how I laid, those blankets were comforting and soft and amazing. I miss them so.

When we first got NCH, I finally saw what she meant. He always looks comfortable. Then the anti-anxiety medication started and he slept in some WEIRD ASS POSITIONS. None of them looked very comfortable to me.

 I do believe that this is a sign of a broken neck.

 Asleep on my toes. Not the side of my foot, or the top of my foot. The tips of my knobby, hard toes. Futurama does not amuse him at all.

 OK, this may be mildly comfortable, but is the toilet seat cover really necessary? Or the completely fucked up rug?

 Is he looking down? Nope. He is asleep. In a drawer. Bent over the edge of it.  

 This is only weird if you know my cat, who let me put this blanket on him. Moments later, he was building a laser gun in the corner.

 There is no way, no way that this is comfortable. I don't even understand how he decided to lay like this.

 When in doubt, hang yourself over the side of a chair. 

And the final, and best picture. Sitting straight up. On the stairs. Sound asleep. 

Now, I know that none of you read this site for gratuitous pictures of my stoned cat. But, dude, I could not stop laughing the entire time he was drugged up and it is wordless Wednesday right? Now is as good of a time as any to participate and then immediately break the number one rule. 

I am a rebel.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's out there.

The expecting moms, who can't wait to meet their little babies.

The new moms who just did.

The seasoned moms and the grandmoms.

I hope all of your days were filled with sunshine and a little peace and quiet.

Why you should probably not be my friend.

I feel like I should talk about beer and make fart jokes to make up for the last few posts. I swear, I will not get all preachy on you. I will not make this blog THAT blog. Those things are important to me, yes, but they are personal and I am going to try to have some self control (ha!) and not talk about that anymore.

I want to talk about Krackle. And her family. And Krackle. Here's the thing, she is my oldest friend. It has been ten and a half years. I know that doesn't seem long to most people, but I don't talk to people from my childhood/high school years. So, other than immediate family, nobody knows me better. Big Jed is a close second.

I called her randomly at 3:00 today and pretty much invited myself over. And she made me dinner. Then she bought me a beer. Don't you all want to be my friend? I promise I am not normally all "take care of me" but, today I needed it. I needed to just be with someone who knows me that well, to just be somewhere that I am comfortable. We spent the early part of the evening playing with Krackle Junior, who is easily the most beautiful amazing little girl on the entire planet. OK, I am a tad biased. But, seriously, I love how comfortable she is with me. I love that she recognizes me and let's me pick her up and hold her and I just love that fucking kid. I can't help it. I would post pictures, but she is a little girl and this blog is public, and right. But, seriously, SO FUCKING CUTE.

Krackle went inside to put the meat in the oven and Krackle Junior ran over to me and handed me her ball. And I (being totally kid communication challenged) threw it. Because that is what I would do with my dogs. And she grinned and babbled and ran to get it and gave it to me again. Then a nanosecond later she pointed at the bubbles, so I blew bubbles. Then she wanted to play under the pine tree (too close to the street!) and I picked her up and lifted her over my head and she squealed and then wanted me to throw the ball again. And this icy, cold, stone-like thing in my chest? Yeah, it melted a little. OK, a lot. I almost threw her in my car and drove off.

This post is like my friendship resume.

They are all just so cute, I want to embroider a pillow with "Home Sweet Home" and give it to them because, seriously, they are that cute. Except I can't embroider and they would laugh at me and awkwardly put it on the couch, only to throw it in a closet later.

Then Krackle and I went to a bar and drank beer and talked about sex. And it was just the perfect day. Exactly what I needed. To just sit and laugh and talk and just be.

However, I am fairly certain that a bunch of drunk guys at the bar heard most of our conversation and are going to tell a lot of people about it. If I overheard it, I know I would.

Fear not

The boy and Krackle have both expressed fear when cooking for me since I started culinary school. I have tried to explain that it has been 4 weeks and that I still like food. If it tasted good before, it is still going to taste good now. Yet, the fear remains.

I am in the process of reading Kitchen Confidential because every single chef at school has told me that every young chef should read it. One of the first things Bourdain talks about is this fear. I am not going to quote him, but he goes on to say something along the lines of loving to eat out and eat exotic foods he doesn't want to prepare at home, but nothing beats a home cooked meal with friends and family.

Today in class, Chef expressed the same sentiment when someone was asking for Thanksgiving recipes. They wanted out of this world, off the wall, blow your socks off stuff. Chef asked if they liked stuffing, cranberries, green bean casserole, etc. The guy was like, yeah, I love that stuff. Chef's response is why change something you love? Thanksgiving was about the classics and that is exactly what he will be cooking.

Am I discovering better ways to cook food? Yes. But, that doesn't mean I don't still want to eat taco's on a Wednesday night with friends.

Humbled

When I made this decision to completely overturn my life and start over, I was scared to say the least. I was excited, but scared was the prominent emotion. Then everything happened with work and I started to doubt myself, doubt if I was capable of doing this. I put on a strong front and typically come across as a very confident person. Deep down, I am still that little girl scared of the dark.

Like my mom was always there to turn on the night light, my friends and family have been there supporting me in a way that humbles me. I also may have taken that metaphor too far.

I have been denied all private health insurance because of my back. I am, essentially uninsurable, which I do not believe is a word. This leaves me one option - COBRA. (duh duh duh) That is the noise that plays in my head every single time I say it. Yes, I will have health insurance, but holy mother of crap does it come at a price. At this point in my life, I am sort of laughing because, maybe, just maybe, I should have been paying better attention to all of this healthcare crap. Sigh. Lesson learned.

The job market sucks ass. I am over qualified for anything that relates to what I have been doing for the past decade. I am under qualified for anything in the culinary industry.

Here is where that whole humbled thing comes in.

My friend B rallies to find me private health insurance, sending me the research that he has done, since he has been fighting the unemployment line for quite some time.

He makes calls to his friends at the Hyatt downtown. (HOLY CRAP I COULD COOK AT THE HYATT.) He calls connection after connection trying to find part time work for me, which results in several solid leads.

Another friend, let's call her Darling (which is a reference to Lady and the Tramp that nobody is going to get, but whatever. I think it is funny) works for one of the local Chambers of Commerce and within a day of having my resume already has job leads for me to follow up on.

My father cannot stop fantasizing about the restaurant I am going to open with him. He wants to call it Erratic's Joint. I am thinking that probably won't be the name. I fear random stoner's wandering in under false pretenses.

My mom calls me every other day to get updates on "what is going on." I mean, to the point of, well, I went to school and signed some papers. She then reports to her entire side of the family. Who then all spend the next several days on a conference line (yes, we have a family conference line. I could not make this up if I tried) planning my future. I am expecting a business plan in the mail any day now.

My grandfather has made me promise that I will have a bar stool engraved for him in Erratic's Joint. It will say "the old man." Yes, that is what I call him.

The boy, Krackle, and Big Jed are eating everything I put in front of them, enthusiastically. I haven't even started school yet. But, their encouragement and support every time I freak out has been monumental to me being able to take this leap. I have had three very willing shoulders to cry on.

The boy sends me all the connections in small business healthcare that he has. He has also requested more pizza and more cheese. Everybody put on their surprised face.

I am not surprised by their support, necessarily. I knew I had an awesome support structure before I took this leap. The only word I can think of is humbled. I don't know how my crazy, spontaneous decision has made my life seem so complete, but it has. It has made me realize that the people that surround me are absolutely fucking amazing.

Maybe, just maybe, I can pull this off.

I am one lucky bitch.

The Wit

I am about to tell you the story of one of the funniest nights of my life. One of my best friends and I used to be roommates. We will call her Krackle. We started this tradition of roommate Christmas, which stuck, even after we no longer lived together. The last year that we continued this tradition we did a blind wine tasting at my house. This consisted of a bunch of friends, and this:

I said it was a blind taste testing. There 12 bottles in all, and about 8 people. Drunkeness shall ensue.

So, we gather all of our friends and hand them note cards - one for red and one for white. They have to tell us the grape, nothing more. We, of course, give a generous pour and start the tasting. The white went well...we progressed from dry to sweet, most people were able to guess exactly what the grapes the wines were made from.

Then the red came. My friend B had been to a party earlier and was drinking before he even showed up. He comes up to me and he says, in moderately slurred words, "I am not so sure I did that well" and then he hands me this:

I laughed so hard I peed a little. We all laughed. In fact, this note card has been on my refrigerator for years and will never leave.