Merry Christmas, everyone!

I hope it's awesome, whatever you're doing!

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.

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. 

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!

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.

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.

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.

The volcano at sunset.