High Horse

I'm beginning to think everyone else thinks I'm pretty damn egotistical as well. Apparently, the horse I sit on is kinda tall.
I've also decided that I don't need to feel bad about that.
What I know is what I know. And what I don't know, I willingly admit and I continuously try to learn. Which is the most you can ask of anyone.
Which is the most important thing you can do for yourself.
Which I do.

But-- I do a fairly horrible job of imparting that on my child. Awareness of this should make it easier.  It doesn't.

I'm working on it.

In other news..(!*&!)

I'm reading this:

 And it's fucking amazing. I bought it for hubby but it's just too damn interesting for me to relinquish right now.  Very encyclopedic, and brief on facts-but it covers a lot. Plus, the book itself is just beautiful. Pages are thick, glossy paper, beautiful plates... I love books.






Also got this:

For Chef and it's just beautiful.

Oh. And this:  (the knife-I had the man) .  Wandering the farms and place surrounding Silver Lake Dunes was a eye-opening way to spend a Saturday.  After breathlessly sharing the amazing scenery, hidden foodstuff gems, little hole in the wall antique stores in converted houses and barns, wineries off the beaten path, and a general feeling of exhilaration with a colleague.. he tells me: "Wonderful. Welcome to your Michigan." 

Oh yeah. There you are.  Hi Michigan.

I guess I've converted entirely now. Soon, I'll be saying 'kaar' and 'baar'.   Oh jeez.

The Good Life

Sitter today for the god of mischief, so I've spent the day at the husband's place of business trying to help with odds and ends, catching up with computer work and consuming massive amounts of coffee.

I'm so damn proud of these guys. Twelve to sixteen hour days on shit pay (which they have accepted in order to get this place MOVING) in a sweltering kitchen, cooking their asses off for a (in my opinion-but I'm a food snob) mostly undeserving public.

No liquor license yet, (most restaurants' major source of income, let's be honest, folks) but they are kicking ass and taking names in this Sandwich Shenanigans going on.

And I know, the hubby and his partner in crime (J&J Portfolio) care so damn much about the food they put on the plate.  I wish BOH concern and care could extend to the FOH... not everyone, just-- I swept the dining floor today. No one knew where to find a broom. Except me.

I don't work here.

Regardless, things will improve all around and in all areas for these motherfuckers.  I'm confident in that.

La bonne cuisine est la base du véritable bonheur- no?

<3 

 

 

6 Awesomes about being: MARRIED

1. No one else is gonna pull you aside in a public place, whisper in your ear and say: "honey.. you've got a bit of a camel toe thing going on. Those are low ride shorts.  Stop pulling them up."

2.  Foot rubs when they fuck up. Or for your birthday. Or anniversary. Or because you whine about it long enough.

3.  You don't get in messy legal trouble if you tell them, "If I don't leave the room (or store/or playground/or Chuck E. Cheese), right now, I'm going to kill this kid.  You've gotta deal with this." and just -- walk away. 

4.   Life has becoming a series of small compromises and bargaining, little arrangements; which develop into very useful skills in professional settings.  

(According to my husband, I'm a certified  'User-er'- meaning I never actually do anything myself, but have everyone do things  for me in exchange for favors or tasks that I have other people perform. I like to think I'm just really good at 'networking'.)

For example:  I will clean up all vomit (child, dog, drunk adult or otherwise) because husband will vomit if he sees vomit. In return, I get to watch him do manual labor like rebuild an entire retaining wall with a beer in my hand while critiquing his layout and complaining about how I really just wanted to spend the afternoon relaxing, not building a retaining wall. 

5.  There's really nothing left to be awkward about with each other.  This is awesome, because not only can you fart whenever you feel like it, your combined comfort level makes everyone else uncomfortable, which is really amusing.   At least to us. 

6.  You have a lifelong ally and champion.

- one who will call you out on your bullshit

-one who will make sure you keep on keeping on

- one who will pick you up when you falter

- one who will grieve with you

-one who will celebrate success with you

... and in all other ways support your dreams and ambitions as YOUR dreams and ambitions-- knowing that, if we, as individuals, are happy and fulfilled, we, as a couple, will have a happy and fulfilling marriage and life together.

Marriage fucking rocks. 

Time.

I go between hardcore fretting I’m not going to have enough to occupy my now unemployed self to being happily overwhelmed with a thousand little things related to (free) work, writing work (pseudo-free), Co-op Brewery work (also free) and family jazz (priceless). 

Yeah. Happily. I’m best when I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

As long as I can sip a beer and work my ass off at the same time, life is good.

THIS is what happens on my slow days.

Yes-those are my dining room chairs.  And my son’s antique tiny wooden chairs.   What else do I do with band shirts we don’t wear anymore?  Stay classy, folks. Stay classy.

Whiny forty year olds and I'm lacking medication. Ugh.

I don’t think I can adequately explain my frustrations verbally with public attacks on individuals and places that are totally, totally unwarranted.  I can barely express it on paper without randomly smashing keys then throwing my laptop across the room. Because in reality that’s what I want to do to this douchebag’s head.

yeah. fuck you.

I welcome constructive criticism, no matter how much it stings. Learning is growing, and growing is painful. I get that.  Granted, I don’t take it well and sulk about it, but in the end it’s always for the best.

BUT—

You can’t do that to my family and friends, yo. Say what you will about me, but don’t you dare say anything negative about them when it’s totally uncalled for.  And I’m not being bias –really. I’m the first to call out dumb mistakes when friends/family are being idiots.  I’m the asshole—that role has been filled.

I’ve watched a lot of cartoons recently, being unemployed (sorta) and at home (mostly) with a six year old boy. Predictable plot lines.  A problem. A bully.  The good guys falter, rally together, and overcome. Instant Karma in fifteen minute increments. 

I hope I make it through this summer.

I don't know why.. certainly it's not for you.

I guess it's for me, obviously. Why else would anyone read this shit? Publicly venting, writing, talking to myself without the neighbors looking at me strange--yeah, a blog can be helpful.

1. Restaurant Widow- a spouse of an individual 'in the industry' who they, themselves, are not in 'said industry'.  Newly minted (again)- fourteen hour days for Chef already starting. He's smoking again. I bitched half heartedly, but I probably don't care and understand the need for stress release.  Mainly I care that he's not eating and totally weighs less that I do. Damnit.

2. Writer Extraordinaire- not really, at all. But if I have ridiculously humorous expectations of myself, I'll never let me down. Recently started freelance foodie writing (how could I not? I'm surrounded by it.)
on a wing and (no) prayer, and it's turned out fairly well, I'd say. Made lots of great friends, ate lots of great food, and drank LOTS of delicious beer.  I'll keep it going, see how it turns out.

3. Egotistical Momma- Mummy of one. I am also totally full of myself. My kid just told me he's still hungry, and I said I'd get him some more breakfast in a minute so I could finish this. Having a child is awesome, they are the funniest, weirdest things in the world. We take pictures of them looking like this for blackmail in the future.

They come out of your vagina. CRAZY.
 But I still have gotta have some time for me. Hence, no cereal for him. (IN A MINUTE, JEEZ.)

So.

Here it is.


I don't care if you read it or not.