Sunday, December 25, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
A bowl of ice cream solves a lot of problems
It's been a trying week. I lost my ATM card Monday morning--fortunately, I was able to cancel the account before any money disappeared, but it still screwed up my banking abilities for the week. Then the plumbing in our downstairs bathroom burst, flooding the downstairs neighbor, so we've had plumbers traipsing in and out of the apartment for two days. My 12-year-old stepson is visiting, and so far I don't think he's consumed anything besides dry Cheerios and hot dogs. Maybe a bowl of spaghetti. Definitely anything not, you know, either junk food or a carb.
And I've been working all week, and by that, I mean ALL WEEK. I finally broke down and scheduled myself a massage for this afternoon, because my shoulders are so tight that they're starting to weirdly tingle all the time. I've been having an ongoing dispute with my former landlord about the return of our deposit, and I finally got resolution (sort of); he returned $450 out of the $1000 he owed us. It's a long story. I'm happy just to see any money.
I'm really looking forward to a) a week off, b) seeing my friends and family next week, and c) sitting down. A lot. Sitting is my favorite.
This morning I got up, looked at the laundry, packing, and cleaning that needed to be done, and instead headed directly into the bathroom and took a long, boiling hot bubble bath. Then I ate a ginormous bacon egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast, followed by a ginormous bowl of ice cream.
I'm all ready for my massage.
And I've been working all week, and by that, I mean ALL WEEK. I finally broke down and scheduled myself a massage for this afternoon, because my shoulders are so tight that they're starting to weirdly tingle all the time. I've been having an ongoing dispute with my former landlord about the return of our deposit, and I finally got resolution (sort of); he returned $450 out of the $1000 he owed us. It's a long story. I'm happy just to see any money.
I'm really looking forward to a) a week off, b) seeing my friends and family next week, and c) sitting down. A lot. Sitting is my favorite.
This morning I got up, looked at the laundry, packing, and cleaning that needed to be done, and instead headed directly into the bathroom and took a long, boiling hot bubble bath. Then I ate a ginormous bacon egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast, followed by a ginormous bowl of ice cream.
I'm all ready for my massage.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Gracie's, Providence, RI
One of our Christmas presents was a gift certificate to Gracie's, a top restaurant in Providence. It had been a while since we'd had a real night out, just the two of us, having dinner, no one working.
I'm happy to say it was a great meal. I let them know I was a fellow restaurant worker, on a rare night off, and they lavished me with a good table, an extra course, and a super-attentive staff. And I came away with the inspiration for pickled cranberries.
We got the full-bore seven-course tasting menu, plus wine pairings. (I didn't catch the wine names for the first three courses; sorry.)
First course: Olive-oil poached tuna with capers.
Second course: gnocchi with foraged mushrooms and rabbit confit.
Third course: foie gras! with sugar pumpkin and pickled cranberries.
Fourth course: bacon-wrapped monkfish with crispy leeks. Wine: Domaine Eden Pinot Noir.
Fifth course (no picture): sweetbreads, with quail egg and truffle reduction. Wine: Kermit Lynch Cote du Rhone.
Sixth course: duck, with duck liver and duck heart. Wine: Beronia Rioja.
Seventh course: cheese! With white port! I hadn't had white port in forever. I ran right out and bought some.
Eighth course: root cake (carrots, parsnips, beets) with a Broadbent Rainwater Mediera.
Yes, that was eight courses on a seven-course menu. Every once in a while, working in a restaurant pays off.
The service and the food were all exceptional. I totally recommend it.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Turkey! And another sprint to Christmas
Isn't that a pretty turkey? I made my holiday dinner last night, complete with turkey, stuffing, taters, cranberry sauce, and sweet potato pie.
Why did I do that last night, you ask? Instead of, say, next week when my stepson will be here and it will be closer to Christmas?
Because last night was the last night I'll have off between now and Christmas. I'm working every night, starting tonight, until we leave to go to Virginia on Christmas morning. Yes, even Monday, because the restaurant has a special party that night.
That means two things: 1. Lots of money, 2. Lots of exhaustion. Plus I won't really see my stepson for the week he's here, because I'll be working constantly. But that's okay; I'll make lots of money, and I'll see him for the week that we're on vacation, in Virginia.
All the Christmas shopping is done, all my errands are run, all that's left is to work a lot and do laundry periodically so I have something to wear to work. I have a new supply of all-black work clothes, thanks to an Old Navy sale, I have a pair of shoes specially calibrated for restaurant workers, my back is killing me all the time but I can't do anything about that.
More news: went to the liquor store yesterday and bought a bunch of stuff. Working in a restaurant with a craft cocktail program will do wonders for my home bar--I get so many ideas, and I'm being exposed to all these crazy brands I never knew of before--but it won't be so great for my wallet, or my liver.
I've decided that as soon as we're rich and famous, I'm hiring a housekeeper. And getting a massage every week.
I'm sure this last ten-day stretch between now and Christmas will fly by, since I'll be working all the time. If you don't hear from me between now and then, that's why. Besides, my blog posts would probably read something like "Ugh. My feet hurt. My back hurts. I only got five hours of sleep last night. Rinse and repeat."
Still better than being a corporate drone, though.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Workin' hard for the money, part 2
I forgot when I did the budget for this month that it's December--which is bad, in a sense, because there are all those Christmas expenses. But it's also good, because I now work in a restaurant.
December is a great month for people in the service industry. Everybody eats out a lot and everybody tips well. This past weekend was a good one, tip-wise--I busted my ass, and was running on fumes by Sunday night, but for once the money was really worth it.
Bitching about how my feet hurt all the time aside, I actually really like working in a restaurant again. I like the food, the cocktails, the energy, the passion. I come home with all sorts of food and beverage ideas (though, granted, I'm usually too tired to do anything about them right away), and I like the weirdos that are drawn to restaurant work.
I got a different temp job, too, this one right downtown in a law firm. It's just three days a week, 9 to 1, within walking distance, so I can bring in some extra money without killing myself by literally working all the time.
So I'm working, finishing up Christmas shopping, and keeping my fingers crossed that we'll end the month in the black. If tips continue to be good, and nothing else unexpected happens, we should be just fine.
December is a great month for people in the service industry. Everybody eats out a lot and everybody tips well. This past weekend was a good one, tip-wise--I busted my ass, and was running on fumes by Sunday night, but for once the money was really worth it.
Bitching about how my feet hurt all the time aside, I actually really like working in a restaurant again. I like the food, the cocktails, the energy, the passion. I come home with all sorts of food and beverage ideas (though, granted, I'm usually too tired to do anything about them right away), and I like the weirdos that are drawn to restaurant work.
I got a different temp job, too, this one right downtown in a law firm. It's just three days a week, 9 to 1, within walking distance, so I can bring in some extra money without killing myself by literally working all the time.
So I'm working, finishing up Christmas shopping, and keeping my fingers crossed that we'll end the month in the black. If tips continue to be good, and nothing else unexpected happens, we should be just fine.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Costa Rica
It rained the whole time.
Other than that, it was fine.
Oh, except that right before we left, we discovered a dear relative has prostate cancer, and just before we came back, the State of New York extracted $1700 from our bank accounts, to pay a tax bill from 2007 that I didn’t even know existed.
But otherwise, the vacation was great.
Here are some things you should know about Costa Rica:
1. Most everyone speaks some degree of English, and there are English-language TV channels.
2. Central and South American plumbing is…let’s call it inadequate. You can’t flush toilet paper, it will clog up the antiquated plumbing. It’s only designed to dispose of, you know, human wastes. So you have to wipe, and then deposit the used toilet paper in a wastebasket next to the toilet. (It goes without saying you can’t flush anything else, like feminine products or tissues or anything.) It also goes without saying that the contents of the wastebasket don’t really bear close examination.
When I told my husband that, he thought I was joking. He’s still convinced it’s all an elaborate prank on Americans.
3. The dry season is January through April. The rest of the year, it will rain at least once a day. Sometimes it will rain for two weeks straight and flood everything. Not little-bitty drizzly rain, either—that tropical rain, where it doesn’t so much rain as the skies just open up and vomit water.
4. The roads are dreadful. And all the bridges are one-lane.
5. But the animals are fun: I saw all kinds of birds and lizards, monkeys, even some caimans.
We arrived toward the end of rainy season, and spent most of our time at Arenal Nayara, a fancy-pants resort in the mountains, overlooking Arenal Volcano. Which is all very well and good, but we never got a clear view of the entire volcano, thanks to the rain and fog. In fact, the only times we saw the sun were when we took a day trip to a wildlife refuge near the Nicaraguan border, and in San Jose on the day we left. That’s it.
So there was no sitting in the sun, and we only broke out our bathing suits once.
At least it was warm.
The resort was very nice, if overpriced. Each room is actually a private hut, with its own Jacuzzi, hammock, outdoor shower, and view of the volcano. Of course, no one bothered to inform me that we wouldn’t actually be able to see the volcano, it being rainy season and all. There were full amenities, great landscaping, and a swim-up bar. Everyone was very helpful, there were pool boys to take your order at the outdoor hot tubs, there was full cable, free wi-fi, and free calls to the US.
But they nickel-and-dimed us for everything else—and at US prices, not at Costa Rican prices. Want water with your dinner? Flat or sparkling, $5 US a bottle, no tap water option. Want a massage at the spa? They start at $80 US. Want a bottle of wine at the wine bar? That’s $28 US for a bottle of Yellow Tail. (YELLOW TAIL. And that was the cheapest wine available. The rest of the wine options were South American, overpriced, and frankly no better than plonk.) Want transportation to and from the airport? $120 each way in a private van, no van-sharing option available. Breakfast was included (thank God) but dinner was at least $35 a person, with no booze. We never paid less than $100 for dinner, and I’m positive there weren’t any locals coming up the mountainside to eat $100 US dinners. The food was good, but it wasn’t $100 good.
Also, they were super-sneaky when it came to drinks: the drink menu listed most drinks at $6, but that didn’t include obligatory tax or 10% service charge, and the bartenders would never tell you what the house liquor was. There were several times when we’d order, say, a margarita, and the bartender would hold up a random bottle of tequila and say, “OK?” If you said OK back, chances were excellent you’d just ordered yourself a $26 margarita. You had to specify, “House is fine,” or else they’d automatically upsell you the expensive stuff. Caution: the local Costa Rican rum was apparently the expensive stuff, which we didn’t discover until we got our bill at the end of our stay. It’s the only place I’ve ever been where the local stuff WASN’T the house option. I don’t mind being asked if I have a preference for booze, but I really mind not being told what things cost up front.
This all makes me sound like a crank, I know. It actually was a very nice vacation—we got away, and spent five unbroken days with each other, with no work, gaming, computers or phones to intrude. Costa Rica is a beautiful country, even with the rain, and we’re definitely planning to go back at some point (to one of the coasts this time, rather than the mountains). And even though the food was overpriced, it was good. I ate my weight in ceviche and fried plantains.
I’m just cranky because the GODDAMN FUCKING STATE OF NEW YORK STOLE $1700 OF MY MONEY WITHOUT WARNING ME. WHILE I WAS OUT OF THE COUNTRY AND COULDN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. Which meant all our vacation cash had to go to pay our rent for next month, and then the vacation had to be charged to a credit card, which makes me exceptionally cranky because the whole point of the vacation was that we could pay cash for it.
Right before the road trip in 2009, I got a bill from the IRS informing me that I’d filed my 2007 taxes improperly and I owed over $3000. (Some paperwork apparently never got mailed to me, so I never included it.) I freaked out, called them, and worked out a payment plan to pay it back. I finally managed to pay off the last of it this year.
Yesterday, while dealing with the IRS and the State of New York, I was told that in the fine print of that original bill, I was supposed to contact the State of New York MYSELF within 90 days so that my state tax return could be reworked. Naturally I never saw that provision, it being buried in the fine print, and no one at the IRS bothered to point that out to me. When I never contacted NY, they reworked my tax return themselves, and have been sending bills for said tax return to my old address in California—which never got forwarded to me, because I haven’t lived there for over a year. When they never heard from me, they issued a tax levy on my accounts, which meant the bank had to empty various savings accounts and send them $1700 on my behalf.
Now, let’s recap. They were sending bills to my California address, but I never got anything while I lived there, which meant they’ve only been trying to contact me within the last year. For a tax bill that’s now four years old. And yes, my address has changed, but my PHONE NUMBER AND EMAIL ADDRESS ARE EXACTLY THE SAME. Also, clearly they had no trouble digging up my current bank account information, so why couldn’t they be bothered to, you know, maybe CALL ME AND TELL ME I OWED THEM $1700?
I spent all morning on the phone yesterday, trying to figure out what happened when and what I could do about it. Short answer: I’m screwed. That money’s gone.
So now we have less than $500 left in emergency money, on an already tight budget, with Christmas coming up. Good times.
I wanted my husband to have an upscale vacation. By myself, I was always perfectly happy to stay in the local illegal Craigslist B&B and wander through the bars and restaurants the locals frequented. That way, I could spend my money on one or two really nice four-star dinners and museum admissions and the like. But I figured he’d want to be eased into international travel, which is why we opted for an expensive resort in the mountains—nothing to do but relax and be pampered, right? With no worries about being robbed in our sleep or getting Montezuma’s Revenge from the water. So, we had the upscale vacation, and thanks to the extra food and beverage charges, paid through the nose for it. Which I wouldn’t even mind, if it hadn’t been for that unexpected tax bill.
So, the moral of the story is: don’t bother with the upscale resorts. Stay in the cheap hotel, eat with the locals, really get to know the country. I can hang out with English-speaking white people at home for free, I don’t need to pay extra to do that somewhere else.
Also, be sure to have a healthy emergency fund, no matter what.
Other than that, it was fine.
Oh, except that right before we left, we discovered a dear relative has prostate cancer, and just before we came back, the State of New York extracted $1700 from our bank accounts, to pay a tax bill from 2007 that I didn’t even know existed.
But otherwise, the vacation was great.
Here are some things you should know about Costa Rica:
1. Most everyone speaks some degree of English, and there are English-language TV channels.
2. Central and South American plumbing is…let’s call it inadequate. You can’t flush toilet paper, it will clog up the antiquated plumbing. It’s only designed to dispose of, you know, human wastes. So you have to wipe, and then deposit the used toilet paper in a wastebasket next to the toilet. (It goes without saying you can’t flush anything else, like feminine products or tissues or anything.) It also goes without saying that the contents of the wastebasket don’t really bear close examination.
When I told my husband that, he thought I was joking. He’s still convinced it’s all an elaborate prank on Americans.
3. The dry season is January through April. The rest of the year, it will rain at least once a day. Sometimes it will rain for two weeks straight and flood everything. Not little-bitty drizzly rain, either—that tropical rain, where it doesn’t so much rain as the skies just open up and vomit water.
4. The roads are dreadful. And all the bridges are one-lane.
5. But the animals are fun: I saw all kinds of birds and lizards, monkeys, even some caimans.
We arrived toward the end of rainy season, and spent most of our time at Arenal Nayara, a fancy-pants resort in the mountains, overlooking Arenal Volcano. Which is all very well and good, but we never got a clear view of the entire volcano, thanks to the rain and fog. In fact, the only times we saw the sun were when we took a day trip to a wildlife refuge near the Nicaraguan border, and in San Jose on the day we left. That’s it.
So there was no sitting in the sun, and we only broke out our bathing suits once.
At least it was warm.
The resort was very nice, if overpriced. Each room is actually a private hut, with its own Jacuzzi, hammock, outdoor shower, and view of the volcano. Of course, no one bothered to inform me that we wouldn’t actually be able to see the volcano, it being rainy season and all. There were full amenities, great landscaping, and a swim-up bar. Everyone was very helpful, there were pool boys to take your order at the outdoor hot tubs, there was full cable, free wi-fi, and free calls to the US.
But they nickel-and-dimed us for everything else—and at US prices, not at Costa Rican prices. Want water with your dinner? Flat or sparkling, $5 US a bottle, no tap water option. Want a massage at the spa? They start at $80 US. Want a bottle of wine at the wine bar? That’s $28 US for a bottle of Yellow Tail. (YELLOW TAIL. And that was the cheapest wine available. The rest of the wine options were South American, overpriced, and frankly no better than plonk.) Want transportation to and from the airport? $120 each way in a private van, no van-sharing option available. Breakfast was included (thank God) but dinner was at least $35 a person, with no booze. We never paid less than $100 for dinner, and I’m positive there weren’t any locals coming up the mountainside to eat $100 US dinners. The food was good, but it wasn’t $100 good.
Also, they were super-sneaky when it came to drinks: the drink menu listed most drinks at $6, but that didn’t include obligatory tax or 10% service charge, and the bartenders would never tell you what the house liquor was. There were several times when we’d order, say, a margarita, and the bartender would hold up a random bottle of tequila and say, “OK?” If you said OK back, chances were excellent you’d just ordered yourself a $26 margarita. You had to specify, “House is fine,” or else they’d automatically upsell you the expensive stuff. Caution: the local Costa Rican rum was apparently the expensive stuff, which we didn’t discover until we got our bill at the end of our stay. It’s the only place I’ve ever been where the local stuff WASN’T the house option. I don’t mind being asked if I have a preference for booze, but I really mind not being told what things cost up front.
This all makes me sound like a crank, I know. It actually was a very nice vacation—we got away, and spent five unbroken days with each other, with no work, gaming, computers or phones to intrude. Costa Rica is a beautiful country, even with the rain, and we’re definitely planning to go back at some point (to one of the coasts this time, rather than the mountains). And even though the food was overpriced, it was good. I ate my weight in ceviche and fried plantains.
I’m just cranky because the GODDAMN FUCKING STATE OF NEW YORK STOLE $1700 OF MY MONEY WITHOUT WARNING ME. WHILE I WAS OUT OF THE COUNTRY AND COULDN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. Which meant all our vacation cash had to go to pay our rent for next month, and then the vacation had to be charged to a credit card, which makes me exceptionally cranky because the whole point of the vacation was that we could pay cash for it.
Right before the road trip in 2009, I got a bill from the IRS informing me that I’d filed my 2007 taxes improperly and I owed over $3000. (Some paperwork apparently never got mailed to me, so I never included it.) I freaked out, called them, and worked out a payment plan to pay it back. I finally managed to pay off the last of it this year.
Yesterday, while dealing with the IRS and the State of New York, I was told that in the fine print of that original bill, I was supposed to contact the State of New York MYSELF within 90 days so that my state tax return could be reworked. Naturally I never saw that provision, it being buried in the fine print, and no one at the IRS bothered to point that out to me. When I never contacted NY, they reworked my tax return themselves, and have been sending bills for said tax return to my old address in California—which never got forwarded to me, because I haven’t lived there for over a year. When they never heard from me, they issued a tax levy on my accounts, which meant the bank had to empty various savings accounts and send them $1700 on my behalf.
Now, let’s recap. They were sending bills to my California address, but I never got anything while I lived there, which meant they’ve only been trying to contact me within the last year. For a tax bill that’s now four years old. And yes, my address has changed, but my PHONE NUMBER AND EMAIL ADDRESS ARE EXACTLY THE SAME. Also, clearly they had no trouble digging up my current bank account information, so why couldn’t they be bothered to, you know, maybe CALL ME AND TELL ME I OWED THEM $1700?
I spent all morning on the phone yesterday, trying to figure out what happened when and what I could do about it. Short answer: I’m screwed. That money’s gone.
So now we have less than $500 left in emergency money, on an already tight budget, with Christmas coming up. Good times.
I wanted my husband to have an upscale vacation. By myself, I was always perfectly happy to stay in the local illegal Craigslist B&B and wander through the bars and restaurants the locals frequented. That way, I could spend my money on one or two really nice four-star dinners and museum admissions and the like. But I figured he’d want to be eased into international travel, which is why we opted for an expensive resort in the mountains—nothing to do but relax and be pampered, right? With no worries about being robbed in our sleep or getting Montezuma’s Revenge from the water. So, we had the upscale vacation, and thanks to the extra food and beverage charges, paid through the nose for it. Which I wouldn’t even mind, if it hadn’t been for that unexpected tax bill.
So, the moral of the story is: don’t bother with the upscale resorts. Stay in the cheap hotel, eat with the locals, really get to know the country. I can hang out with English-speaking white people at home for free, I don’t need to pay extra to do that somewhere else.
Also, be sure to have a healthy emergency fund, no matter what.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Pictures from Costa Rica
 |
The view from our room at the resort. That's Arenal Volcano. That's as much of the volcano as we ever saw, thanks to the fact that it was rainy season.    |
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Thoughts on Thanksgiving
Long-time blog readers will know that I'm not much on Thanksgiving.
That's not to say that I don't appreciate the holiday, or that I don't enjoy a turkey-stuffing-mashed potato-cranberry sauce sandwich from time to time.
But I've never really celebrated it on my own.
For years I did the "are we celebrating Thanksgiving or Christmas this year?" dance with my family. Since I was single, and living in New York, I had to travel to them--no one was going to visit me and sleep on the floor of my studio. (Not that I blamed them.) But that meant all the travel expenses were on my end.
Finally I got tired of it, and started my own tradition: traveling elsewhere for Thanksgiving. And by "elsewhere," I mean "internationally."
As I'm sure you know, domestic airfares around Thanksgiving are atrocious--easily three or four times what they would be normally, and the airports are packed. But international airfares--from America to anywhere else in the world--are super-cheap.
Why? Because no one travels outside America for Thanksgiving, it being a purely American holiday.
So, 1. Incredibly cheap airfares, 2. Deserted international terminals at the airport, 3. Still good weather in Europe, 4. Fewer tourists than usual (because all the Americans are at home), means A Great Time to Travel Internationally.
And I'll see everyone at Christmas anyway.
What am I missing by fleeing the country for four days? I can eat turkey at Christmas, see my family then, and I wouldn't dare set foot out of the house on Black Friday anyway. (I do all my Christmas shopping online.)
Speaking of Christmas shopping, I did a wee bit yesterday, to take advantage of the pre-Black Friday sales (since I'll be out of the country on Black Friday). I picked myself up a replacement camera--$180, marked down from $300--the Canon Powershot Elph 300HS. Essentially the new version of my old camera.
The last couple of years, due to moves (first to California, then to Massachusetts), I wasn't able to take advantage of this lovely tradition of travelling internationally. But this year, I'm reviving it.
So while you're listening to your in-laws griping, trying to defrost the turkey in time, and fighting stampeding crowds at Wal-Mart on Black Friday, I will be soaking up the rays in Costa Rica, drinking things out of pineapples.
Lots and lots of drinks out of pineapples.
See you all in December.
That's not to say that I don't appreciate the holiday, or that I don't enjoy a turkey-stuffing-mashed potato-cranberry sauce sandwich from time to time.
But I've never really celebrated it on my own.
For years I did the "are we celebrating Thanksgiving or Christmas this year?" dance with my family. Since I was single, and living in New York, I had to travel to them--no one was going to visit me and sleep on the floor of my studio. (Not that I blamed them.) But that meant all the travel expenses were on my end.
Finally I got tired of it, and started my own tradition: traveling elsewhere for Thanksgiving. And by "elsewhere," I mean "internationally."
As I'm sure you know, domestic airfares around Thanksgiving are atrocious--easily three or four times what they would be normally, and the airports are packed. But international airfares--from America to anywhere else in the world--are super-cheap.
Why? Because no one travels outside America for Thanksgiving, it being a purely American holiday.
So, 1. Incredibly cheap airfares, 2. Deserted international terminals at the airport, 3. Still good weather in Europe, 4. Fewer tourists than usual (because all the Americans are at home), means A Great Time to Travel Internationally.
And I'll see everyone at Christmas anyway.
What am I missing by fleeing the country for four days? I can eat turkey at Christmas, see my family then, and I wouldn't dare set foot out of the house on Black Friday anyway. (I do all my Christmas shopping online.)
Speaking of Christmas shopping, I did a wee bit yesterday, to take advantage of the pre-Black Friday sales (since I'll be out of the country on Black Friday). I picked myself up a replacement camera--$180, marked down from $300--the Canon Powershot Elph 300HS. Essentially the new version of my old camera.
The last couple of years, due to moves (first to California, then to Massachusetts), I wasn't able to take advantage of this lovely tradition of travelling internationally. But this year, I'm reviving it.
So while you're listening to your in-laws griping, trying to defrost the turkey in time, and fighting stampeding crowds at Wal-Mart on Black Friday, I will be soaking up the rays in Costa Rica, drinking things out of pineapples.
Lots and lots of drinks out of pineapples.
See you all in December.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
I miss having a day off
Sorry for paucity of news/updates lately. I've been working almost literally non-stop; temping during the day, restaurant at night. It's exactly like I'm 20 again, working two full-time jobs. Only, you know, I'm not 20 anymore.
I've been temping at a large drugstore chain's national headquarters for the last week or so, and that will probably continue for the next week. I remember exactly why I went back to the restaurant industry in the first place. I hate offices. I hate cafeterias, I hate cubicles, I hate office politics, I hate PowerPoint, I hate driving to a corporate campus every day. To add insult to injury, none of my corporate clothes fit anymore--I've lost probably 20 pounds since I started waiting tables, which is great, but now none of my clothes fit. To add further insult to injury, they're paying me $19 an hour. Which may sound like a lot, but I haven't made less than $20 an hour in an office since 1999. I was making double that temping in New York. Hell, even in San Diego, when I had to take a 35% pay cut just to work, I was making close to $23 an hour.
But it's still $19 an hour more than I was making during those hours, so I suppose I should quit griping.
So as soon as that's done, I rush right over to the restaurant and spend all night on my feet. Doubles on the weekends. Which means I work 8-5 Monday through Wednesday, then 8 am to 11 pm or midnight Thursday through Sunday. Which means I never have a full day off, and Thursday morning through Monday night is basically one long shift, with six-hour sleeping breaks.
My husband is like, "Who are you again?"
Fortunately, in a week we're going to Costa Rica. So I'm pushing through, because there'll be an awesome vacation at the end of all this.
When we get back, I'll reevaluate finances. Hopefully at that point I can drop the day temping, and cut back on the brunch shifts at the restaurant, leaving me to work only Thursday through Sunday nights.
In the meantime, though, it's a slog. I remember feeling like this when I was 20, thinking "Once I get a degree, I'll never have to work like this again."
Heh.
I've been temping at a large drugstore chain's national headquarters for the last week or so, and that will probably continue for the next week. I remember exactly why I went back to the restaurant industry in the first place. I hate offices. I hate cafeterias, I hate cubicles, I hate office politics, I hate PowerPoint, I hate driving to a corporate campus every day. To add insult to injury, none of my corporate clothes fit anymore--I've lost probably 20 pounds since I started waiting tables, which is great, but now none of my clothes fit. To add further insult to injury, they're paying me $19 an hour. Which may sound like a lot, but I haven't made less than $20 an hour in an office since 1999. I was making double that temping in New York. Hell, even in San Diego, when I had to take a 35% pay cut just to work, I was making close to $23 an hour.
But it's still $19 an hour more than I was making during those hours, so I suppose I should quit griping.
So as soon as that's done, I rush right over to the restaurant and spend all night on my feet. Doubles on the weekends. Which means I work 8-5 Monday through Wednesday, then 8 am to 11 pm or midnight Thursday through Sunday. Which means I never have a full day off, and Thursday morning through Monday night is basically one long shift, with six-hour sleeping breaks.
My husband is like, "Who are you again?"
Fortunately, in a week we're going to Costa Rica. So I'm pushing through, because there'll be an awesome vacation at the end of all this.
When we get back, I'll reevaluate finances. Hopefully at that point I can drop the day temping, and cut back on the brunch shifts at the restaurant, leaving me to work only Thursday through Sunday nights.
In the meantime, though, it's a slog. I remember feeling like this when I was 20, thinking "Once I get a degree, I'll never have to work like this again."
Heh.
Monday, November 14, 2011
More pictures of the new house
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| Entryway |
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| Foosball coffee table! |
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| Built-in wet bar |
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| Guest bedroom |
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Master bedroom |
Friday, November 11, 2011
Goodbye, little camera. You've served me well
I spilled half a bottle of water in my purse, and my camera was in the bottom of my purse.
Of course I frantically took it apart to let it dry out. I even put it in a container of rice overnight. But, in the words of the camera shop pro I took it to, "it's fucked."
(I did get a flicker of life out of it this morning, after sitting in the rice all night; but only a flicker. I'll wait another day and try again, but I'm not optimistic.)
I suppose I should be grateful I didn't ruin my phone as well. And to be honest, I've sucked my money's worth out of that little camera. It's served me well. The road trip, all the moves, all the sightseeing, and all the food photography over the past two and a half years, and not once has it disappointed me.
So farewell, Canon Powershot SD780 IS with 12.1 megapixels. Bless your little camera heart.
So this means I'll be using my iPhone for blog pictures in the immediate future--they won't be as good, please forgive me, I apologize in advance.
I'll be in the market for a new camera; I have my eye on a Canon G12, but I'm open to suggestions. Any pros/fellow food bloggers out there, what camera do you use and why? Any recommendations?
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Birthday summary
I DID have to work a double on my birthday.
I also got fired on my birthday.
Those two things, however, are not related.
Here's the story: I love the restaurant I'm working at in Providence. I'm hoping to get more shifts there in a couple of weeks, but because it's so small, I have to wait for one of the other four waiters to give up shifts. So I'm usually available if one of them wants a night off.
They asked me on Friday if I could work Saturday night, in addition to my already-scheduled brunch shift on Saturday. I didn't really want to, seeing as how Saturday was my birthday, but I found out Saturday morning I had to, because no one else was available. Fine, I like money, they threw in a bottle of wine to sweeten the deal and let me off early last night, which was very nice of them.
However, somewhere in the middle of all that, my other job called me. The upscale pizza/wine bar in Massachusetts, that I've been driving 40 minutes each way to a few times a week, trying to make a little more money before I got more shifts at the Providence restaurant. I've been wanting to quit there for a while, it's often not worth it to make the drive, but I was trying to wait until the last possible minute to do so.
So old job called me, wanting me to come in Saturday night as well. "Can't, sorry," I said, "my other job called me in, too."
I thought that was the end of the story, until I was checking my online schedule last night--and discovered my account had been deleted.
That's how they fired me--they didn't actually TELL me I was fired, they just reassigned all my shifts for next week and deleted my account from the online scheduling app.
"Fuck 'em," said my husband, "you were going to quit anyway."
"True," I said, "but my goodness, how tacky."
We ended up going to a party our landlords were having, so the very end of my birthday was quite nice, much better than the working part. I'm back in for another double today--so perhaps tomorrow I'll actually celebrate my birthday.
I also got fired on my birthday.
Those two things, however, are not related.
Here's the story: I love the restaurant I'm working at in Providence. I'm hoping to get more shifts there in a couple of weeks, but because it's so small, I have to wait for one of the other four waiters to give up shifts. So I'm usually available if one of them wants a night off.
They asked me on Friday if I could work Saturday night, in addition to my already-scheduled brunch shift on Saturday. I didn't really want to, seeing as how Saturday was my birthday, but I found out Saturday morning I had to, because no one else was available. Fine, I like money, they threw in a bottle of wine to sweeten the deal and let me off early last night, which was very nice of them.
However, somewhere in the middle of all that, my other job called me. The upscale pizza/wine bar in Massachusetts, that I've been driving 40 minutes each way to a few times a week, trying to make a little more money before I got more shifts at the Providence restaurant. I've been wanting to quit there for a while, it's often not worth it to make the drive, but I was trying to wait until the last possible minute to do so.
So old job called me, wanting me to come in Saturday night as well. "Can't, sorry," I said, "my other job called me in, too."
I thought that was the end of the story, until I was checking my online schedule last night--and discovered my account had been deleted.
That's how they fired me--they didn't actually TELL me I was fired, they just reassigned all my shifts for next week and deleted my account from the online scheduling app.
"Fuck 'em," said my husband, "you were going to quit anyway."
"True," I said, "but my goodness, how tacky."
We ended up going to a party our landlords were having, so the very end of my birthday was quite nice, much better than the working part. I'm back in for another double today--so perhaps tomorrow I'll actually celebrate my birthday.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Venda Ravioli in Providence, RI
My in-laws got me a gift certificate to Venda Ravioli for my birthday, Venda apparently being a Providence institution, in the heart of the Federal Hill Little Italy. (If any other readers want to get me something, my birthday is Saturday!) Being still new to Providence, I went to check it out yesterday.
I was expecting an Italian restaurant--and there is one--but Venda Ravioli is also a gourmet food emporium, complete with meat counter, cheese counter, and pre-made Italian yummies.
So, that gift certificate got spent in a hurry.
I got a few things I wouldn't normally get--dry-aged beef, veal osso buco--but I also got some standards: cheese, olives, cured salami, proscuitto. (Look for blog posts about how I use all this stuff soon.) Naturally, dinner last night was a cheese fest.
I'll be back for sure, and now that we're settled in to the new place, perhaps I can start exploring the city in my spare time now.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
My Kevin Bacon number
In a minor brush with celebrity, I waited on Kyra Sedgwick last night.
For those of you who don't know who Kyra Sedgwick is, she is a) Kevin Bacon's wife, and b) a movie and TV star in her own right. Their daughter apparently goes to Brown, because Kyra and her daughter came into my restaurant for dinner last night.
Everyone in the restaurant was super-excited because we thought Kevin Bacon would be coming in, too. He didn't; but still, I waited on a celebrity.
For those who care, she ordered the chicken.
My Kevin Bacon number has just skyrocketed, to 2. Which means I am only one degree of separation away from the Bacon himself.
For those of you who don't know who Kyra Sedgwick is, she is a) Kevin Bacon's wife, and b) a movie and TV star in her own right. Their daughter apparently goes to Brown, because Kyra and her daughter came into my restaurant for dinner last night.
Everyone in the restaurant was super-excited because we thought Kevin Bacon would be coming in, too. He didn't; but still, I waited on a celebrity.
For those who care, she ordered the chicken.
My Kevin Bacon number has just skyrocketed, to 2. Which means I am only one degree of separation away from the Bacon himself.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Side note about photos
You probably already know that I'm spending my free time decorating the new house, primarily by hanging things on the walls (to cover the holes in the walls left by the previous tenants), hanging curtains, and getting some new furniture.
I thought I was being pretty clever by getting new things to hang on the walls, to avoid a huge spackling/repainting project; I hung what we already had, of course, and then (to avoid spackling/repainting) I started getting creative.
I hauled out some old posters, got some cheap poster frames, and hung those.
Then I got a couple of vintage liquor posters on ebay, and hung those. (We now have a vintage liquor them in our entryway, which is way cooler and way more French than it sounds.)
Then I decided to print some 8x10s of some of my old travel photos, frame those, and hang those around.
Here is where it gets tricky.
Naturally I started with the road trip, and went from there. I selected some photos from Rome, one from Buenos Aires, and some from my very first trip abroad, to London and Paris, lo these twelve years ago. I don't think I'd looked at those pictures in the better part of a decade.
Naturally, looking at all those pictures has precipitated a massive wave of wanderlust.
Of course, you're thinking that now I really want to pack up and go to Europe, after looking at my pictures of Rome and Paris and London. You're right, partly--I always want to pack up and go to Europe.
Mainly, though, right now I want to pack up and go out west. Utah, Wyoming, and Montana.
Bear with me here.
The greatest pictures I took on the road trip were in Utah, with a close second in Montana. (Wyoming ranked right up there in terms of scenery, but my photos didn't capture it.) I also got some great shots at Badlands National Park, in South Dakota. Looking at those photos makes me want to return, to really explore those places rather than just zooming through with a camera.
This is not the time of year to go to Wyoming and Montana, I know. It doesn't matter, I won't be going there anytime soon. We can't afford it, and we're going to Costa Rica next month. That should scratch the travel itch, at least for a little while.
Still. Look at that photo. How could you not want to go there?
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
New home update
I was going to post a diatribe about how the DMV is secretly run by Satan-worshipping assholes, but I'm feeling sluggish this morning. So I'll leave that for another day, and instead let you in on what's happening around here.
As you may know, my husband and I recently relocated to a big, twisty Victorian home. For the first time in my life, I'm in a place with a) high ceilings, b) big windows, c) lots of rooms. And room, in general. I suddenly have an extra room to fill with furniture--and that's after we purchased a new sofa, for a total of three sofas.
All that room space means lots of wall space to cover, too. The previous owners had a love for bright color; one room is painted hot pink, one is a kind of bluey lime green, the office is silver with broad purple stripes, the entryway is fire-engine red. (It looks better than it sounds.) But that also means that the holes they left in the walls, from pictures, curtain hardware, etc., can't really be spackled over, since those particular batches of paint are long gone. And that means I have a lot of holes to cover over.
So I'm spending my days figuring out what I can hang, for a minimum of money. I've printed some of the travel photos I've taken over the years, and pulled out some old posters. (Cheap poster frames are tacky, I admit, but I don't have the energy or the money for a custom framing job right now.)
I'll also be furnishing that empty room on the cheap. I've already gotten a rocking chair on craigslist ($35), and we'll need another coffee table and another nightstand. I've repurposed some other furniture into a entertainment center; it's not quite the right color, but I hope some spraypaint will take care of that.
So if any of you have any old furniture, or pictures, you're looking to get rid of, let me know.
Everything's unpacked, that's the good news. I may rearrange a few things, but that's minor. I'm not working as much as I would like, but my new job tells me they would like to give me more shifts in the next couple of weeks. If that's the case, then maybe I can stop looking for another job, and just work there. That's what I'd really like--I love the people and the menu there, and if I could add on the money-making shifts (Thursday, Friday, Saturday nights), I could potentially make enough money to live on there. Keep your fingers crossed.
As you may know, my husband and I recently relocated to a big, twisty Victorian home. For the first time in my life, I'm in a place with a) high ceilings, b) big windows, c) lots of rooms. And room, in general. I suddenly have an extra room to fill with furniture--and that's after we purchased a new sofa, for a total of three sofas.
All that room space means lots of wall space to cover, too. The previous owners had a love for bright color; one room is painted hot pink, one is a kind of bluey lime green, the office is silver with broad purple stripes, the entryway is fire-engine red. (It looks better than it sounds.) But that also means that the holes they left in the walls, from pictures, curtain hardware, etc., can't really be spackled over, since those particular batches of paint are long gone. And that means I have a lot of holes to cover over.
So I'm spending my days figuring out what I can hang, for a minimum of money. I've printed some of the travel photos I've taken over the years, and pulled out some old posters. (Cheap poster frames are tacky, I admit, but I don't have the energy or the money for a custom framing job right now.)
I'll also be furnishing that empty room on the cheap. I've already gotten a rocking chair on craigslist ($35), and we'll need another coffee table and another nightstand. I've repurposed some other furniture into a entertainment center; it's not quite the right color, but I hope some spraypaint will take care of that.
So if any of you have any old furniture, or pictures, you're looking to get rid of, let me know.
Everything's unpacked, that's the good news. I may rearrange a few things, but that's minor. I'm not working as much as I would like, but my new job tells me they would like to give me more shifts in the next couple of weeks. If that's the case, then maybe I can stop looking for another job, and just work there. That's what I'd really like--I love the people and the menu there, and if I could add on the money-making shifts (Thursday, Friday, Saturday nights), I could potentially make enough money to live on there. Keep your fingers crossed.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Slowly but surely
It's hard to get settled in when you have to work all the time.
But the house is slowly coming together. We've gotten the boxes unpacked and most everything put away. We can now concentrate on the finishing touches, like curtains, hanging pictures, and distributing lamps.
AND my pot rack is hanging! I haven't been able to hang my pot rack in either of the last two places we've lived--that thing hasn't seen the light of day since Brooklyn. We got it installed last night (I love high ceilings) with the help of our new landlord, and it's spiffy. Really spiffy.
It almost offset the fact that my food processor isn't working.
I'm not sure why--it worked perfectly before the move. If I have to buy another one, on top of all the other new stuff we need (new entertainment center, probably some new curtains, all the other miscellaneous crap you need when you move), I'm going to be very upset.
But the house is slowly coming together. We've gotten the boxes unpacked and most everything put away. We can now concentrate on the finishing touches, like curtains, hanging pictures, and distributing lamps.
AND my pot rack is hanging! I haven't been able to hang my pot rack in either of the last two places we've lived--that thing hasn't seen the light of day since Brooklyn. We got it installed last night (I love high ceilings) with the help of our new landlord, and it's spiffy. Really spiffy.
It almost offset the fact that my food processor isn't working.
I'm not sure why--it worked perfectly before the move. If I have to buy another one, on top of all the other new stuff we need (new entertainment center, probably some new curtains, all the other miscellaneous crap you need when you move), I'm going to be very upset.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Moving once is like dying twice
...as the Germans say.
We're here, we're moved in, I'm cranky. The end.
The movers were actually much more helpful this time around--they didn't damage anything, and we managed to get almost all the furniture inside.
The new apartment is very cool, tons of character, but it does have two very twisty and narrow staircases. We already knew most of the furniture wouldn't fit up to the top floor--what we didn't count on was that some wouldn't even make it in the front door. The entertainment center had to be completely abandoned (it's in the basement, awaiting its fate), and all the furniture we'd intended for the top floor is now stuck on the lower floor, as none of it will fit up the staircase.
As usual, the entire moving process has been an exercise in frustration.
1. Bank of America fucked me. They charged me a $12 "monthly maintenance fee" they'd never charged me before, then charged me a $35 overdraft fee for the privilege. Conveniently, they waited until the only day last month when I didn't have $12 available, necessitating a $35 overdraft fee. Then when I called to complain, they said they "couldn't help me" and that I "didn't qualify to have the charges reversed."
Translation: you don't make enough money for us to care about keeping your account. Even though I've had that account for ten years.
So I closed that account, and opened a new one at a new bank. Even more conveniently, my funds are now tied up while I wait for the new debit card and PIN to arrive separately.
2. We bought a new sofa, but half of the ottoman wasn't delivered with the rest of it. So there's that.
3. We tried to switch our Verizon cable/internet to the new place, only to be told that they wouldn't be able to get out to connect everything for TEN DAYS.
So I had to close that account, and open a new one with Cox Cable. That was three hours of my life, gone right there.
4. Then my computer couldn't connect to our new network. Another two hours down the drain.
5. The house is in a state of chaos (predictably). I can't find anything, and everything I unpack presents a new logistical challenge. ("Where the hell am I supposed to put the potato ricer? I can't even find my shoes...I'll just throw it over here...now where the hell did I leave the boxcutter?" and so on.)
6. Also, John is working late every night, and I'm working all weekend, so nothing will get accomplished for the next couple of days.
7. Alarmingly soon, I'm going to have to turn the last of the tomato harvest into a batch of tomato sauce. I'm not sure that can wait until Monday. It may have to, though, as I still haven't unpacked all of the kitchen things I'd need for that.
And I'm covered with bruises from bumping into unfamiliar corners and boxes.
Did I mention I'm cranky?
At least I wasn't the one that had to wrestle the furniture inside. There's that, at least.
We're here, we're moved in, I'm cranky. The end.
The movers were actually much more helpful this time around--they didn't damage anything, and we managed to get almost all the furniture inside.
The new apartment is very cool, tons of character, but it does have two very twisty and narrow staircases. We already knew most of the furniture wouldn't fit up to the top floor--what we didn't count on was that some wouldn't even make it in the front door. The entertainment center had to be completely abandoned (it's in the basement, awaiting its fate), and all the furniture we'd intended for the top floor is now stuck on the lower floor, as none of it will fit up the staircase.
As usual, the entire moving process has been an exercise in frustration.
1. Bank of America fucked me. They charged me a $12 "monthly maintenance fee" they'd never charged me before, then charged me a $35 overdraft fee for the privilege. Conveniently, they waited until the only day last month when I didn't have $12 available, necessitating a $35 overdraft fee. Then when I called to complain, they said they "couldn't help me" and that I "didn't qualify to have the charges reversed."
Translation: you don't make enough money for us to care about keeping your account. Even though I've had that account for ten years.
So I closed that account, and opened a new one at a new bank. Even more conveniently, my funds are now tied up while I wait for the new debit card and PIN to arrive separately.
2. We bought a new sofa, but half of the ottoman wasn't delivered with the rest of it. So there's that.
3. We tried to switch our Verizon cable/internet to the new place, only to be told that they wouldn't be able to get out to connect everything for TEN DAYS.
So I had to close that account, and open a new one with Cox Cable. That was three hours of my life, gone right there.
4. Then my computer couldn't connect to our new network. Another two hours down the drain.
5. The house is in a state of chaos (predictably). I can't find anything, and everything I unpack presents a new logistical challenge. ("Where the hell am I supposed to put the potato ricer? I can't even find my shoes...I'll just throw it over here...now where the hell did I leave the boxcutter?" and so on.)
6. Also, John is working late every night, and I'm working all weekend, so nothing will get accomplished for the next couple of days.
7. Alarmingly soon, I'm going to have to turn the last of the tomato harvest into a batch of tomato sauce. I'm not sure that can wait until Monday. It may have to, though, as I still haven't unpacked all of the kitchen things I'd need for that.
And I'm covered with bruises from bumping into unfamiliar corners and boxes.
Did I mention I'm cranky?
At least I wasn't the one that had to wrestle the furniture inside. There's that, at least.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Gardening update: no more garden
Well, that's it, folks. The Great Gardening Experiment of 2011 is officially over.
We move out of our house, beginning on Monday, so this weekend I'll be ripping out the last of the tomato and pepper plants. Everything else has already been harvested and ripped out, and I've been removing tomato plants as they die/stop producing. It's a shame, I think I could get a few more weeks out of the pepper plants if it doesn't get too cold, but oh well.
Here's my verdict: tomatoes were the clear winner. I harvested bushels, all different kinds, all exceedingly delicious. Herbs were the runner-up. Out of everything else, here's what I got:
Corn: 2 spindly ears, maybe the size of a finger. I don't think they got enough sun.
Squash: Several zucchini, 3 baby-sized butternut squash. They were doing well until Hurricane Irene, but all the water killed them off.
Green beans: A few handfuls' worth, nothing of note, and they never got very big. Not sure what happened there.
Kale: Lots of baby kale in the beginning; the groundhog ate it down to the ground in August and I pulled it up at that point.
Cauliflower and carrots: Lost to the rabbits.
Cucumbers: Several baby ones. Ditto Hurricane Irene (see squash, above).
Peppers: Coming along very nicely. None of the bell peppers got very big, but perhaps that's just because I've been impatient and have been picking them as soon as they get bigger than a golf ball.
Lessons for next year: Well, next year we'll be in a city apartment with no yard (okay, there is a yard, but it's a bricked-in patio), so it'll be all about the container gardening again. But I will expand the container garden to include tomatoes, more peppers, and more types of greenery. I'll also keep some of the herbs inside this fall, to try and keep the basil and such alive as long as possible.
We move out of our house, beginning on Monday, so this weekend I'll be ripping out the last of the tomato and pepper plants. Everything else has already been harvested and ripped out, and I've been removing tomato plants as they die/stop producing. It's a shame, I think I could get a few more weeks out of the pepper plants if it doesn't get too cold, but oh well.
Here's my verdict: tomatoes were the clear winner. I harvested bushels, all different kinds, all exceedingly delicious. Herbs were the runner-up. Out of everything else, here's what I got:
Corn: 2 spindly ears, maybe the size of a finger. I don't think they got enough sun.
Squash: Several zucchini, 3 baby-sized butternut squash. They were doing well until Hurricane Irene, but all the water killed them off.
Green beans: A few handfuls' worth, nothing of note, and they never got very big. Not sure what happened there.
Kale: Lots of baby kale in the beginning; the groundhog ate it down to the ground in August and I pulled it up at that point.
Cauliflower and carrots: Lost to the rabbits.
Cucumbers: Several baby ones. Ditto Hurricane Irene (see squash, above).
Peppers: Coming along very nicely. None of the bell peppers got very big, but perhaps that's just because I've been impatient and have been picking them as soon as they get bigger than a golf ball.
Lessons for next year: Well, next year we'll be in a city apartment with no yard (okay, there is a yard, but it's a bricked-in patio), so it'll be all about the container gardening again. But I will expand the container garden to include tomatoes, more peppers, and more types of greenery. I'll also keep some of the herbs inside this fall, to try and keep the basil and such alive as long as possible.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
It's a small world after all
I ran into my new landlord at my new job last night. The one guy I know in Providence, and he shows up at my restaurant. Turns out he's a regular there. Cool, huh?
Speaking of the new job, things are looking up. My first day, Sunday, was dreadfully slow, and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to make any money there. I'm still not sure exactly what my earning potential will be there (I'm training, and therefore not eligible for tips), but I really like the place. Great food, great cocktails, and best of all, they treat me like an adult. I get family meal, a shift drink, the chef says "try this" when he's experimenting, the bartenders say "try this" when they're experimenting, it's small enough to be intimate so I'm never running around like a chicken with my head cut off, there are no kids/teenagers, and the menu changes every night. In short, fine dining.
In other news, we begin the moving process this weekend. Pray for us.
Speaking of the new job, things are looking up. My first day, Sunday, was dreadfully slow, and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to make any money there. I'm still not sure exactly what my earning potential will be there (I'm training, and therefore not eligible for tips), but I really like the place. Great food, great cocktails, and best of all, they treat me like an adult. I get family meal, a shift drink, the chef says "try this" when he's experimenting, the bartenders say "try this" when they're experimenting, it's small enough to be intimate so I'm never running around like a chicken with my head cut off, there are no kids/teenagers, and the menu changes every night. In short, fine dining.
In other news, we begin the moving process this weekend. Pray for us.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Back to fine dining
I found a new restaurant gig in Providence, not far from our new apartment. It's a highly rated gastropub, small, intimate, with a constantly changing fresh local menu and craft cocktails. It's almost exactly the kind of place I would have, were I to have my own place.
I started there last night--and while I love the place, it was a very slow night. I fear for my money-making potential there. I'm worried about money in general these days; last night I dreamed that I was hired for another administrative/corporate job, started, and was promptly fired. I realllllly don't want to go back on that particular firing line, but neither do I want to be making no money. (And my darling husband, whom I love more than life itself, insists on leaving all the lights on and waiting until the last possible second to buy gas--you know, the kind of behavior that costs money.)
Once again, I seem to only be interested in low-paying gigs.
I started there last night--and while I love the place, it was a very slow night. I fear for my money-making potential there. I'm worried about money in general these days; last night I dreamed that I was hired for another administrative/corporate job, started, and was promptly fired. I realllllly don't want to go back on that particular firing line, but neither do I want to be making no money. (And my darling husband, whom I love more than life itself, insists on leaving all the lights on and waiting until the last possible second to buy gas--you know, the kind of behavior that costs money.)
Once again, I seem to only be interested in low-paying gigs.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The moving process continues
Sorry for lack of posting, I've been, you know, getting ready to move. We've signed a lease on the new place, and will begin moving in earnest in two weeks. I've been getting the house ready for the movers/packers, and working as much as possible.
But I haven't been earning nearly enough--I think once we move to Providence, I'll need to get a job at a fine dining restaurant, where I can make more money. We're also considering getting rid of one car--Providence has a decent enough public transportation system, and ridiculously high car insurance/property tax rates. With the car payment, gas, insurance, and new property tax rates, we're spending $600 a month on the Camry (more on the Prius, since its payment is higher) and that doesn't include maintenance. While I appreciate convenience, a $60 bus pass costs a lot less than $600.
Otherwise, nothing to report. Trying to wrap up gardening for the season; packing; working; getting excited about my upcoming trip to Virginia to see friends and go to a high school reunion thing.
Speaking of which, the dress code for the reunion thing is "party casual, no jeans." What the hell do I wear?
But I haven't been earning nearly enough--I think once we move to Providence, I'll need to get a job at a fine dining restaurant, where I can make more money. We're also considering getting rid of one car--Providence has a decent enough public transportation system, and ridiculously high car insurance/property tax rates. With the car payment, gas, insurance, and new property tax rates, we're spending $600 a month on the Camry (more on the Prius, since its payment is higher) and that doesn't include maintenance. While I appreciate convenience, a $60 bus pass costs a lot less than $600.
Otherwise, nothing to report. Trying to wrap up gardening for the season; packing; working; getting excited about my upcoming trip to Virginia to see friends and go to a high school reunion thing.
Speaking of which, the dress code for the reunion thing is "party casual, no jeans." What the hell do I wear?
Monday, September 12, 2011
Well, that was fast
Yesterday, DH and I went and looked at an apartment together.
We were offered it last night.
So it appears we'll be moving to a new city in short order, to a really kick-ass apartment.
Yes, it is an apartment. I had hoped for a house. But it's a great apartment (and half a house). 9 rooms, 3 bedrooms, 2 full baths (one with rain shower and separate full-size Victorian clawfoot tub), with a built-in wet bar in the dining room. There's a patio backyard, which is a bummer for me, because it means all my future gardening will be of the container variety--but there is a pear tree and grapevine back there, so at least there's free fruit. It's fully enclosed and a little overgrown, but trimmed back, there should be enough sunlight for the containers. It's the upper half of an old house, so there are hardwood floors throughout, twisty stairways, an additional deck off the front, gabled roof in the upper floor, and big kitchen. Plus storage in the basement and washer/dryer. The closet space leaves something to be desired, but there is a cedar closet.
We'll lose the fireplace and the backyard, but a year's worth of snow shoveling/lawn maintenance has apparently convinced my husband that he will be an apartment dweller for the rest of his life.
Once we get the moving details/dates situated, I'll be sure to keep everyone updated.
Now, on to getting rid of the furniture we won't need there (fireplace equipment, possibly china cabinet, one dresser, oh, and the outdoor stuff) and accumulating the new stuff we'll need (more bookcases, probably more things to sit on). If anyone's in the market for anything, let me know.
We were offered it last night.
So it appears we'll be moving to a new city in short order, to a really kick-ass apartment.
Yes, it is an apartment. I had hoped for a house. But it's a great apartment (and half a house). 9 rooms, 3 bedrooms, 2 full baths (one with rain shower and separate full-size Victorian clawfoot tub), with a built-in wet bar in the dining room. There's a patio backyard, which is a bummer for me, because it means all my future gardening will be of the container variety--but there is a pear tree and grapevine back there, so at least there's free fruit. It's fully enclosed and a little overgrown, but trimmed back, there should be enough sunlight for the containers. It's the upper half of an old house, so there are hardwood floors throughout, twisty stairways, an additional deck off the front, gabled roof in the upper floor, and big kitchen. Plus storage in the basement and washer/dryer. The closet space leaves something to be desired, but there is a cedar closet.
We'll lose the fireplace and the backyard, but a year's worth of snow shoveling/lawn maintenance has apparently convinced my husband that he will be an apartment dweller for the rest of his life.
Once we get the moving details/dates situated, I'll be sure to keep everyone updated.
Now, on to getting rid of the furniture we won't need there (fireplace equipment, possibly china cabinet, one dresser, oh, and the outdoor stuff) and accumulating the new stuff we'll need (more bookcases, probably more things to sit on). If anyone's in the market for anything, let me know.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Good moving news
We're going to look at a couple of apartments in Providence today. I spoke to the movers yesterday (my husband's company is providing movers, free of charge), and they can pack/load/unload everything, and we'll get it all the next day. Hopefully this will be a MUCH easier moving process than last year's, in which we had two and a half weeks to pack everything/move cross-country. I don't ever want to have to do that again. *shudder*
But if we don't have to pack this time around, that means I can spend my time looking at apartments/working instead of worrying about moving logistics, which is fine with me. Still waiting tables, my feet still hurt. Last week was abysmally slow, but last night was jumpin', so I'm hoping this upcoming week's tips will make up for last week's lack of them.
Side rant: you DO know to tip 20%, right? That's 20%. Not 10%. Or even 15%. It's 20%. If you can't afford to tip 20%, you can't afford to eat out.
Also, for whatever reason, I've been getting a lot of teenagers in my restaurant, and NONE OF THEM KNOW HOW TO TIP. Seriously, I'll get maybe 4 or 5 bucks on an $80 tab, all of which is cheese pizzas and soda.
Parents, PLEASE TEACH YOUR KIDS HOW TO TIP. I do not work for $2.83 an hour to provide constant Sprite refills to giggly teenagers, only to get stiffed on the tip.
Thank you.
Anyway, there's not much else to report. My husband will be working pretty much constant overtime between now and Christmas. I was planning a visit home in October for a high school reunion thing, but it looks like I'll be going solo, since he won't be able to get away. I'm working as much as I can, trying desperately to get at least one credit card paid off before my severance runs out. The garden is full of tomatoes, I'm hip-deep in tomatoes, I love tomatoes but damn.
Also, I know what day it is. I'm not talking about that. I'm going off-grid, like I do every year on this date, so I can (hopefully) avoid sobbing like a child. I hope you can, too.
But if we don't have to pack this time around, that means I can spend my time looking at apartments/working instead of worrying about moving logistics, which is fine with me. Still waiting tables, my feet still hurt. Last week was abysmally slow, but last night was jumpin', so I'm hoping this upcoming week's tips will make up for last week's lack of them.
Side rant: you DO know to tip 20%, right? That's 20%. Not 10%. Or even 15%. It's 20%. If you can't afford to tip 20%, you can't afford to eat out.
Also, for whatever reason, I've been getting a lot of teenagers in my restaurant, and NONE OF THEM KNOW HOW TO TIP. Seriously, I'll get maybe 4 or 5 bucks on an $80 tab, all of which is cheese pizzas and soda.
Parents, PLEASE TEACH YOUR KIDS HOW TO TIP. I do not work for $2.83 an hour to provide constant Sprite refills to giggly teenagers, only to get stiffed on the tip.
Thank you.
Anyway, there's not much else to report. My husband will be working pretty much constant overtime between now and Christmas. I was planning a visit home in October for a high school reunion thing, but it looks like I'll be going solo, since he won't be able to get away. I'm working as much as I can, trying desperately to get at least one credit card paid off before my severance runs out. The garden is full of tomatoes, I'm hip-deep in tomatoes, I love tomatoes but damn.
Also, I know what day it is. I'm not talking about that. I'm going off-grid, like I do every year on this date, so I can (hopefully) avoid sobbing like a child. I hope you can, too.
Monday, September 5, 2011
The house is quiet again
Everyone left this morning.
By "everyone," I mean my stepson, who's been visiting us for the last month, as well as my BFF and her kids who were here this weekend. We've had a steady stream of visitors this month, to take advantage of stepson's presence on the East Coast, and while it was great seeing everyone, I'm looking forward to a) quiet, b) free bathrooms, c) being able to watch R-rated movies again, and d) no longer having to keep a steady supply of Cheerios, hot dogs, and peanut butter in the house.
Although right now, the house looks like the laundry-and-dirty-dishes fairy exploded, so I have that to deal with.
Did you know ice cream cakes now cost $30?
By "everyone," I mean my stepson, who's been visiting us for the last month, as well as my BFF and her kids who were here this weekend. We've had a steady stream of visitors this month, to take advantage of stepson's presence on the East Coast, and while it was great seeing everyone, I'm looking forward to a) quiet, b) free bathrooms, c) being able to watch R-rated movies again, and d) no longer having to keep a steady supply of Cheerios, hot dogs, and peanut butter in the house.
Although right now, the house looks like the laundry-and-dirty-dishes fairy exploded, so I have that to deal with.
Did you know ice cream cakes now cost $30?
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Hurricane Irene
Hurricane Irene blew through Massachusetts this weekend, and it was largely a non-event--except that we lost power.
We still have no power.
In a way, it's not a big deal. I've been through hurricanes/extended power outages before. I had all the necessary supplies--batteries, flashlights, lots of candles, a propane camping stove, lots of non-perishable food. I hauled out the coolers and filled them with ice. We're currently in the process of eating through what was in the refrigerator, so that we lose as little as possible if the power is out for an extended period of time.
And we still have water. Trust me, no power is a cakewalk compared to no power AND no water. We even have hot water, thanks to the gas-powered hot water heater.
We didn't have any damage to speak of--lots of fallen branches, a few tomatoes blown off.
However, my stepson has apparently never been exposed to a power outage of any kind, much less an extended one. The good news is that he's reading a lot more. The bad news is that he keeps complaining of being bored. (I finally got tired of it, and sent him into the backyard to pick up all the fallen branches. He was very helpful at that, if by "helpful" you mean "running around the backyard flapping your arms at all the fallen branches and yelling 'I'm a robot!'".) I promised him s'mores tonight, roasted by candlelight.
Also, I have a freezer full of meat that I'm worried about. Everything in there was frozen solid, so it all should be good for another day or two. But if the power still isn't on then, I'm not sure what to do about it all. It's too much to eat all at once. I can handle losing some of the eggs and the chicken broth that was in the fridge; I can't handle losing alligator sausage and crawfish.
The power company claims I will almost certainly have power by 10 PM on Saturday.
Which is supremely unhelpful.
But I saw a power company truck perusing the neighborhood today, and the guy told me this was the largest block without power in my town, so I'm hopeful we will actually get power back within the next day or two, and not have to wait til Saturday.
My BFF and her kids are visiting this weekend, and I'd really like to have power for them.
We still have no power.
In a way, it's not a big deal. I've been through hurricanes/extended power outages before. I had all the necessary supplies--batteries, flashlights, lots of candles, a propane camping stove, lots of non-perishable food. I hauled out the coolers and filled them with ice. We're currently in the process of eating through what was in the refrigerator, so that we lose as little as possible if the power is out for an extended period of time.
And we still have water. Trust me, no power is a cakewalk compared to no power AND no water. We even have hot water, thanks to the gas-powered hot water heater.
We didn't have any damage to speak of--lots of fallen branches, a few tomatoes blown off.
However, my stepson has apparently never been exposed to a power outage of any kind, much less an extended one. The good news is that he's reading a lot more. The bad news is that he keeps complaining of being bored. (I finally got tired of it, and sent him into the backyard to pick up all the fallen branches. He was very helpful at that, if by "helpful" you mean "running around the backyard flapping your arms at all the fallen branches and yelling 'I'm a robot!'".) I promised him s'mores tonight, roasted by candlelight.
Also, I have a freezer full of meat that I'm worried about. Everything in there was frozen solid, so it all should be good for another day or two. But if the power still isn't on then, I'm not sure what to do about it all. It's too much to eat all at once. I can handle losing some of the eggs and the chicken broth that was in the fridge; I can't handle losing alligator sausage and crawfish.
The power company claims I will almost certainly have power by 10 PM on Saturday.
Which is supremely unhelpful.
But I saw a power company truck perusing the neighborhood today, and the guy told me this was the largest block without power in my town, so I'm hopeful we will actually get power back within the next day or two, and not have to wait til Saturday.
My BFF and her kids are visiting this weekend, and I'd really like to have power for them.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Earthquake!
By now I'm sure you've heard of yesterday's 5.8 earthquake in central Virginia that rattled buildings all over the East Coast. My husband claims to have felt it at his office in Rhode Island (I didn't). Everyone I know is fine, no injuries or damage.
My parents, oddly enough, were in Gettysburg when it happened. They visited last weekend, and decided to stop off in Gettysburg to do some sightseeing on the way home. It was a lovely visit--we did some sightseeing in Boston, drove to Newport, RI to ogle the mansions, and ate a lot. My mother brought me approximately 12 metric tons of food, which she always does. I'm still working my way through it all.
In other news, waiting tables is going well--I should be able to actually earn money by the end of this week (as opposed to training). My BFF and her kids are visiting next weekend, which I'm very excited about. I seem to have reached the end of the chipmunk infestation; so far the Death Buckets have gotten 15, the tomato carnage has stopped completely, and I haven't seen or heard a live chipmunk in a couple of days. The tomatoes, incidentally, are ripening beautifully.
Plans are going ahead to move to Rhode Island in pursuit of much cheaper rent. Our current landlord seems willing to negotiate our rent down, perhaps considerably--but my husband's work is offering moving assistance and cash in hand. I've been poking around the closets, culling a few items, getting things ready for the inevitable packing.
My parents, oddly enough, were in Gettysburg when it happened. They visited last weekend, and decided to stop off in Gettysburg to do some sightseeing on the way home. It was a lovely visit--we did some sightseeing in Boston, drove to Newport, RI to ogle the mansions, and ate a lot. My mother brought me approximately 12 metric tons of food, which she always does. I'm still working my way through it all.
In other news, waiting tables is going well--I should be able to actually earn money by the end of this week (as opposed to training). My BFF and her kids are visiting next weekend, which I'm very excited about. I seem to have reached the end of the chipmunk infestation; so far the Death Buckets have gotten 15, the tomato carnage has stopped completely, and I haven't seen or heard a live chipmunk in a couple of days. The tomatoes, incidentally, are ripening beautifully.
Plans are going ahead to move to Rhode Island in pursuit of much cheaper rent. Our current landlord seems willing to negotiate our rent down, perhaps considerably--but my husband's work is offering moving assistance and cash in hand. I've been poking around the closets, culling a few items, getting things ready for the inevitable packing.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The economy strikes again
Well, loyal readers, I am once again the victim of corporate layoffs.
On Wednesday, I was involuntarily relieved of my job and given a month of severance in its place. I had to sign a bunch of confidentiality agreements to get the severance, so let's just stop there. I don't want to talk about it anyway.
But you know what? I don't even care anymore. I care very much about losing my paycheck, don't get me wrong, but that's the only thing I'll miss. I've done this before--been laid off suddenly, regrouped, etc.--and my life was better because of it. Remember the road trip? (Sigh. Good times.) So fuck 'em.
I take this as a sign from God that I'm done with corporate America. I was burned out on the business world, anyway. Instead, I'm going headfirst into the restaurant industry, to see if I can turn that into a much more intellectually stimulating way to make a living.
Yes, this means I'll be waiting tables again. (So tip your servers well, please.) But frankly I'd rather wait tables at a nice establishment (or two) than sit behind a desk all day, trying not to look bored. I've already been hired on at two upscale joints near me, one of them very upscale, with a great wine list. They were impressed with my food and wine knowledge, and impressed that I knew my way around the restaurant industry--all those previous years of waiting tables, plus dining at some of the world's finest, plus all my involvement with underground restaurants, plus the fact that I know how to cook and pair wines--meaning, I hope, that I can eventually leverage a simple serving position into a) enough money to live on, the most important thing, and b) restaurant management and/or bartending/wine buying.
It's a good thing I already had one serving job lined up when I got laid off--I was able to transistion into it right away. It'll take a month or so before I start to earn real money at both places (training, you know), so I hope that by the time the severance runs out I'll be earning enough tips to replace most of my former salary.
However, we are taking cost-cutting measures. I think we'll be moving closer to my husband's job, letting go of the house we now rent when the lease runs out in November. We're hoping to get at least a 30% rent reduction by switching cities--his city is much cheaper to rent in than Boston. I'll then wait tables there--possibly we'll even be able to get rid of one car. I fear we'll have to give up a backyard, which means I wouldn't be able to garden next summer. But then, at least I wouldn't have to worry about killing chipmunks. (I'm up to 14, by the way.)
We might also cancel the vacation to Costa Rica (which is already mostly paid for, largely with points, so keep your fingers crossed it doesn't come to that).
So, lessons learned:
1. You can't depend on anything. Life can, and will, change on a whim.
2. Every time I think I'm starting to get on top of the debt repayment situation, something like this happens. It drives me nuts.
3. But this time, I have a loving, supportive husband, and enough of an emergency fund cushion to keep me from panicking.
4. I will find a way to be successful at this, to do something I actually want to do.
5. If my back and my feet don't give out first. It's been five years since the last time I waited tables, and trust me, five years in your thirties means the next time you start waiting tables it will HURT. But it also means I'll lose 20 pounds like that, and have a firmer ass to boot.
On Wednesday, I was involuntarily relieved of my job and given a month of severance in its place. I had to sign a bunch of confidentiality agreements to get the severance, so let's just stop there. I don't want to talk about it anyway.
But you know what? I don't even care anymore. I care very much about losing my paycheck, don't get me wrong, but that's the only thing I'll miss. I've done this before--been laid off suddenly, regrouped, etc.--and my life was better because of it. Remember the road trip? (Sigh. Good times.) So fuck 'em.
I take this as a sign from God that I'm done with corporate America. I was burned out on the business world, anyway. Instead, I'm going headfirst into the restaurant industry, to see if I can turn that into a much more intellectually stimulating way to make a living.
Yes, this means I'll be waiting tables again. (So tip your servers well, please.) But frankly I'd rather wait tables at a nice establishment (or two) than sit behind a desk all day, trying not to look bored. I've already been hired on at two upscale joints near me, one of them very upscale, with a great wine list. They were impressed with my food and wine knowledge, and impressed that I knew my way around the restaurant industry--all those previous years of waiting tables, plus dining at some of the world's finest, plus all my involvement with underground restaurants, plus the fact that I know how to cook and pair wines--meaning, I hope, that I can eventually leverage a simple serving position into a) enough money to live on, the most important thing, and b) restaurant management and/or bartending/wine buying.
It's a good thing I already had one serving job lined up when I got laid off--I was able to transistion into it right away. It'll take a month or so before I start to earn real money at both places (training, you know), so I hope that by the time the severance runs out I'll be earning enough tips to replace most of my former salary.
However, we are taking cost-cutting measures. I think we'll be moving closer to my husband's job, letting go of the house we now rent when the lease runs out in November. We're hoping to get at least a 30% rent reduction by switching cities--his city is much cheaper to rent in than Boston. I'll then wait tables there--possibly we'll even be able to get rid of one car. I fear we'll have to give up a backyard, which means I wouldn't be able to garden next summer. But then, at least I wouldn't have to worry about killing chipmunks. (I'm up to 14, by the way.)
We might also cancel the vacation to Costa Rica (which is already mostly paid for, largely with points, so keep your fingers crossed it doesn't come to that).
So, lessons learned:
1. You can't depend on anything. Life can, and will, change on a whim.
2. Every time I think I'm starting to get on top of the debt repayment situation, something like this happens. It drives me nuts.
3. But this time, I have a loving, supportive husband, and enough of an emergency fund cushion to keep me from panicking.
4. I will find a way to be successful at this, to do something I actually want to do.
5. If my back and my feet don't give out first. It's been five years since the last time I waited tables, and trust me, five years in your thirties means the next time you start waiting tables it will HURT. But it also means I'll lose 20 pounds like that, and have a firmer ass to boot.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Gardening update (warning: with death)
I've declared war on all rodents.
I discovered, just as the tomato harvest was coming in, that squirrels and chipmunks were devastating the harvest. They were stealing and eating as many green tomatoes as they could carry. So far I estimate I've lost at least 25 big beefsteak tomatoes and who knows how many cherry tomatoes, and that's just counting the tomato carcasses I could find.
I mean, just look at those big beautiful heirloom tomatoes up there. Those are MINE. That I've labored over since FEBRUARY. Those squirrels and chipmunks can SIT AND SPIN, and that's putting it nicely.
Here are the bullet points:
1. Squirrels and chipmunks will eat all your tomatoes.
2. Repellents, mothballs, cayenne sprays, and individually Ziploc-ing all the tomatoes will not stop the slaughter.
3. The only thing that works is to kill them.
4. Rat traps and Death Buckets work best for this. (As an added bonus, I've been getting some mice, too. The fact that there are mice around outside mean I will very soon be putting mousetraps back out inside the house.)
5. Death Buckets = fill a 5-gallon bucket about halfway with water. Float about an inch of black sunflower seeds on top. (They float.) Place a board running up the side of the bucket to the top. The chipmunks (and mice, apparently) will run up the plank, see the sunflower seeds, think it's a solid base, and jump in. Then they drown.
6. So far I've nabbed 10 chipmunks, 2 squirrels, and 4 mice. The tomato carnage has dropped precipitously (though it still continues).
7. Don't worry, I brought all the rat traps inside when children arrived. I've been relying solely on the Death Buckets since then.
Unfortunately, rat traps will not automatically kill squirrels--just slowly suffocate them. My husband, bless his heart, obliged by putting them out of their misery with several well-placed shovel blows to the head. That took a little piece out of both our souls. I was hoping to find a more, erm, efficient way to dispatch them, but in the absence of the rat traps, the squirrels are getting especially brazen. They chewed two big holes through a metal mesh screen to get inside the sunroom, whereupon they devastated the bag of sunflower seeds. They're also eating all the seeds out of the Death Buckets (even when there are, you know, bodies in there--ewwwwwwwww), and generally being a giant pain in the ass. I think I will have to put the rat traps back out, and just drown them after they're caught.
(And no, I can't humanely catch them and re-release them somewhere else. That's illegal here.)
The good news is that my cat killed a snake. My blind cat. Killed a garter snake. He was so proud of himself. He finally earned his keep.
The other good news is that things are finally starting to come out of the garden. Tomatoes, a little, but also zucchini and tons of herbs, including the long-awaited basil. The cucumbers and peppers are coming along nicely, I should have something from those plants soon, and the corn is starting to tassel out.
Here's part of the tomato garden, shored up with extra twine:
Here's part of the squash patch and some peppers:
More peppers:
A baby butternut squash!:
A baby pepper!:
Next year, to prevent this kind of wholesale carnage, I think I'll plant one big garden patch (rather than lots of locations all over the yard), plant onions all around the outside, and continue the trapping throughout the winter. If I'd known the chipmunks were going to cause such a problem, I would have done something about the exploding population a long time ago.
Other things I'll do: not plant so many beefsteak tomatoes. They seem to like those way more than the sauce/cherry varieties. Not plant cauliflower or carrots (I lost those to the rabbits first thing). Not plant so many peppers--it doesn't seem to get hot enough here. Plant more kinds of squash and green beans. Get a dog.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The economy sucks, so I got another job
That is to say, I got an additional job.
Waiting tables.
I don't doubt that we are headed for a Lost Decade just like Japan's. Another recession, no growth, massive unemployment. The shenanigans with the debt ceiling have only solidified my opinion that the government will never pull its head out of its collective ass long enough to shore up education, infrastructure, and healthcare, which means we will slowly fall farther and farther behind the rest of the world and they will blame it on terrorism, or gay marriage, or abortion, or possibly a combination of all three, rather than just, you know, not being dumb-asses.
So, given that, I'm really really nervous.
Not about our two jobs, per se. Just that we're still carrying so much debt, and that if God forbid something should happen to one of our jobs, we're not yet at the point where we could live on one income. So I want to make that debt go away as quickly as possible.
So I got a part-time job waiting tables, at a wine bar/upscale pizza joint just down the street from my day job. I don't mind waiting tables again, as all the money I make doing it will be purely extra money. All that will go straight to debt repayment, along with all the other money we're throwing at debt repayment. It's not like we need it to eat or anything. And I don't mind working my ass off for a year or two, if it means that then I won't have to work at all.
I'll report back, once I start. My feet and back are a lot older than they were the last time I did this, and I shudder to think of next year's tax bill, but the thought of paying off a bunch of stuff in short order makes me very, very happy.
Waiting tables.
I don't doubt that we are headed for a Lost Decade just like Japan's. Another recession, no growth, massive unemployment. The shenanigans with the debt ceiling have only solidified my opinion that the government will never pull its head out of its collective ass long enough to shore up education, infrastructure, and healthcare, which means we will slowly fall farther and farther behind the rest of the world and they will blame it on terrorism, or gay marriage, or abortion, or possibly a combination of all three, rather than just, you know, not being dumb-asses.
So, given that, I'm really really nervous.
Not about our two jobs, per se. Just that we're still carrying so much debt, and that if God forbid something should happen to one of our jobs, we're not yet at the point where we could live on one income. So I want to make that debt go away as quickly as possible.
So I got a part-time job waiting tables, at a wine bar/upscale pizza joint just down the street from my day job. I don't mind waiting tables again, as all the money I make doing it will be purely extra money. All that will go straight to debt repayment, along with all the other money we're throwing at debt repayment. It's not like we need it to eat or anything. And I don't mind working my ass off for a year or two, if it means that then I won't have to work at all.
I'll report back, once I start. My feet and back are a lot older than they were the last time I did this, and I shudder to think of next year's tax bill, but the thought of paying off a bunch of stuff in short order makes me very, very happy.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Update
So, since we returned from vacation:
My stepson has arrived for a month of summer visitation. I've laid in a supply of hot dogs and juice. He's grown several inches since the last time I saw him (and, thankfully, all the extra weight he was carrying has now translated into height), gotten a deep California summer tan, and--most exciting of all--has actually deigned to try new foodstuffs. In my presence.
Not a lot, mind you. But he tried homemade bread, cinnamon bread, zucchini cake (I was shocked, normally he wouldn't touch anything with visible green flecks) and chunky tomato sauce. He's also eating salad and carrot sticks. It's so great to watch him eating, and actually enjoying eating. It's a long cry from the days when he would literally go 24 hours without eating.
Speaking of Stepson, we opened a 529 for him. I feel so grown-up and responsible and stuff.
My sister-in-law and her family visited. It was great to see them again, and great to see my stepson playing with his cousins. The house was loud, and messy, for several days, but who cares. We ate, we drank, we wore deep grooves in the lawn with a Slip-n-Slide. Good times.
Speaking of family, my parents are coming to visit this weekend. They'll be able to spend some quality time with Stepson while he's here.
I'm getting some more pre-cancerous bits cut out of me. Wear sunscreen, people.
I've declared war on all rodents. I discovered, just as the tomato harvest was coming in, that squirrels and chipmunks were devastating the harvest. They were stealing and eating as many green tomatoes as they could carry. So far I estimate I've lost at least 25 big beefsteak tomatoes and who knows how many cherry tomatoes, and that's just counting the tomato carcasses I could find. I'll post a longer, more detailed garden update, but here are the salient points:
1. Squirrels and chipmunks will eat all your tomatoes.
2. Repellents, mothballs, cayenne sprays, and individually Ziploc-ing all the tomatoes will not stop the slaughter.
3. The only thing that works is to kill them.
4. Rat traps and Death Buckets work best for this.
5. Death Buckets = fill a 5-gallon bucket about halfway with water. Float about an inch of black sunflower seeds on top. (They float.) Place a board running up the side of the bucket to the top. The chipmunks (and mice, apparently) will run up the plank, see the sunflower seeds, think it's a solid base, and jump in. Then they drown.
6. So far I've nabbed 10 chipmunks, 2 squirrels, and 4 mice. The tomato carnage has dropped precipitously (though it still continues).
7. Don't worry, I brought all the rat traps inside when children arrived. I've been relying solely on the Death Buckets since then.
My cat killed a snake. My blind cat. Killed a garter snake. He was so proud of himself.
My stepson has arrived for a month of summer visitation. I've laid in a supply of hot dogs and juice. He's grown several inches since the last time I saw him (and, thankfully, all the extra weight he was carrying has now translated into height), gotten a deep California summer tan, and--most exciting of all--has actually deigned to try new foodstuffs. In my presence.
Not a lot, mind you. But he tried homemade bread, cinnamon bread, zucchini cake (I was shocked, normally he wouldn't touch anything with visible green flecks) and chunky tomato sauce. He's also eating salad and carrot sticks. It's so great to watch him eating, and actually enjoying eating. It's a long cry from the days when he would literally go 24 hours without eating.
Speaking of Stepson, we opened a 529 for him. I feel so grown-up and responsible and stuff.
My sister-in-law and her family visited. It was great to see them again, and great to see my stepson playing with his cousins. The house was loud, and messy, for several days, but who cares. We ate, we drank, we wore deep grooves in the lawn with a Slip-n-Slide. Good times.
Speaking of family, my parents are coming to visit this weekend. They'll be able to spend some quality time with Stepson while he's here.
I'm getting some more pre-cancerous bits cut out of me. Wear sunscreen, people.
I've declared war on all rodents. I discovered, just as the tomato harvest was coming in, that squirrels and chipmunks were devastating the harvest. They were stealing and eating as many green tomatoes as they could carry. So far I estimate I've lost at least 25 big beefsteak tomatoes and who knows how many cherry tomatoes, and that's just counting the tomato carcasses I could find. I'll post a longer, more detailed garden update, but here are the salient points:
1. Squirrels and chipmunks will eat all your tomatoes.
2. Repellents, mothballs, cayenne sprays, and individually Ziploc-ing all the tomatoes will not stop the slaughter.
3. The only thing that works is to kill them.
4. Rat traps and Death Buckets work best for this.
5. Death Buckets = fill a 5-gallon bucket about halfway with water. Float about an inch of black sunflower seeds on top. (They float.) Place a board running up the side of the bucket to the top. The chipmunks (and mice, apparently) will run up the plank, see the sunflower seeds, think it's a solid base, and jump in. Then they drown.
6. So far I've nabbed 10 chipmunks, 2 squirrels, and 4 mice. The tomato carnage has dropped precipitously (though it still continues).
7. Don't worry, I brought all the rat traps inside when children arrived. I've been relying solely on the Death Buckets since then.
My cat killed a snake. My blind cat. Killed a garter snake. He was so proud of himself.
Monday, August 15, 2011
New Orleans, Part II
Phew! I think that covered all the restaurants we hit in NOLA. :-)
Though I'm an old pro in Gulfport/New Orleans (I think this was my fourth time there), it was my husband's first. His verdict: steamy (in the humid way) but fun. The swamp tour was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. The steamboat tour, however, was exactly as touristy and boring as I thought it would be.
The highlight of the trip, of course, was seeing my family and my now-one-year-old niece. Next year we'll have to work in an equivalent amount of time with my in-laws.
Though I'm an old pro in Gulfport/New Orleans (I think this was my fourth time there), it was my husband's first. His verdict: steamy (in the humid way) but fun. The swamp tour was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. The steamboat tour, however, was exactly as touristy and boring as I thought it would be.
The highlight of the trip, of course, was seeing my family and my now-one-year-old niece. Next year we'll have to work in an equivalent amount of time with my in-laws.
Friday, August 12, 2011
New Orleans: Cochon
And last but not least, Cochon.
This was our first meal in New Orleans and my husband's favorite. Cochon and I go way back, I've eaten there every time I've ever been in the city. (It was my second favorite meal of this trip, next to Patois, but Cochon will always be my favorite NOLA restaurant in general.)
The best way to eat there is to split a bunch of the lovely appetizers. Here's what we shared:
fried rabbit livers with toast and pepper jelly
fried alligator
fried boudin balls
pork cheeks with spoon bread
rabbit and dumplings
peach pie
Seriously, doesn't that all sound divine? It was, too.
One of the things I like most about Cochon (other than their devotion to all things pork) is that they have whisky and moonshine tastings. That's right, moonshine. As in that stuff that normally comes out of a Mason jar and tastes like paint thinner. I grew up in Virginia and I guess naturally assumed that all moonshine was illegal, since it was there--but it turns out moonshine, at least in Louisiana, is perfectly legal and in fact comes in a) flavors and b) actual bottles (not just Mason jars).
So I got a moonshine tasting, featuring--what else?--Virginia moonshine. Specifically, Virginia Lightning from Culpeper, VA, which ironically enough cannot be bought or sold in Virginia. I also had a cocktail with cucumber vodka, strawberry moonshine, and Barritts. My husband, having lived in Culpeper for a time and still being scarred from that experience, opted for the whisky tasting and proclaimed the George Dickel #12 the best.
Random notes: we both split a cocktail called the Swinekiller, with Hendricks gin, rhubarb bitters, and limeade. Our favorite cocktail of the trip.
Also, Cochon has opened a deli just around the corner called Cochon Butcher, featuring a meat counter and sandwiches. We got sandwiches to go on our way out of town and they were, of course, really good. (Their pickles are surprisingly tasty, as well.)
Thursday, August 11, 2011
New Orleans: Coquette
We didn't actually have a meal at Coquette, but I'll make sure we do next time. We stopped in as we were walking through the Garden District, as a thunderstorm was threatening to blow in. We spent a lovely couple of hours lingering at the bar, sampling their wine list and artisanal cocktails and enjoying a lovely cheese platter and plate of beignets. What better way is there to pass a rainy afternoon?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
New Orleans: Patois
Patois, I think, was my favorite meal of the trip.
Here's what we ate (in order of photos):
sweetbreads
grilled octopus
charcuterie plate
rabbit
quail
Creole cream cheese semifreddo
Along with a bottle of Emeritus pinot noir and a martini made with pickle juice.
Isn't that just, like, the most awesome menu ever?
Seriously, I love menus like that. The food was great, needless to say, but I really appreciate when a restaurant is willing and able to feature the more esoteric ingredients like sweetbreads and octopus. It means they're not afraid to tackle the weird stuff, and more importantly, that their clientele isn't afraid of it, either. (A restaurant wouldn't list octopus if no one ever ordered it.) And a clientele that isn't afraid to order octopus, is a clientele that is probably cultured, well-educated, and hip to good wines. Which means a) a great restaurant, but also b) a fun neighborhood to go out in and c) interesting people to talk to at the bar.
The inside was pleasantly casual, with two stories and a wood floor, our waiter was so accommodating it was almost funny, and the courses were perfectly timed. My only quibble is that we were whisked away immediately to our table, so that we didn't get a chance to linger at the bar. I do love lingering at the bar and chatting up the bartender, to see what he/she knows about their craft. (I tried that at Cure, only to be offered a drink already on the menu and then ignored. Great drinks there, but not the chattiest bartenders--which I wouldn't have minded, if we hadn't been the only ones there.) But that's a minor point.
Verdict: Go. Then go again.
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