Lunch for one, please

So, don't judge me.   Ok, you can because it's kinda an involuntary thing, to judge people.  I don't know why we all don't walk around with robes, gavels and maybe even wigs.  Anyway, Rudy had a quick bite, floor service (instead of table service, get it).  And yes, that is the same plate I would eat off of after being washed.

To preface this video, I might still be having residual feelings of guilt.  I almost killed this dog of mine.  

Rudy.  RuBear.  Rudy Roo.  Rudy Ruettiger.  Rudy Rudebaker.  Rudy Rutabaga.  Roodles Canoodles.  It's a Ru.  

I fuckin love this dog.  Every dog or cat or pet owner can relate.  I'm not gonna say, no, I love him more than you love your dog.  I might, or I might not.  

Anyway, yesterday morning, we drove to Flagler Drive in Flagler Village for a walk.  We met Steamboat, a pitbull of a friend who has a brewery right in the area, Invasive Species.  Big surprise, Rudy didn't like Steamboat.  So, we had a good walk.  Then we went back to the car.  I put Rudy in the back seat, & I filled the cup holder with water for him.  

Then I closed the door.  And the keys were on the passenger seat.  And the doors were locked.  And my phone was in the car.

But the door was cracked.  I tried to wedge my hand in, but it was just a crack.  

These landscapers just pulled up behind me, so I asked if I could use someone's phone.  The one guy that handed me a phone gave me an android.  And of course I didn't know how to use it.  I called TFP (my husband) and it went straight to voicemail.  He was out running.  I left a panicky message relaying the situation.  And I called again, and again, and again.  I probably called him 15 times.  I panicked even more after about 10-15 minutes, so I called 911.  They were sending the fire department.  Rudy was fine... but I was not.  He didn't really seem anxious until about 15 - 20 minutes in.  Then the phone I was using stopped working.  I think I made the data reach the limit, so I couldn't call anymore.  And I couldn't answer the phone when TFP tried to call back.  But, luckily, the firemen showed up.  They were able to open the door really quickly since it was cracked.  Of course, Rudy went ballistic.  So they got the door open, but were holding it closed until I got around to the door.  They didn't want him to lunge out and bite him, which he probably would have done.....I opened the door, and I poured more water in the cup holder.  He drank it all.  Then I refilled.  He drank that.  He drank all the water I had in the car.  It was about 25 - 30 minutes by the time the door was unlocked.  Luckily, he wasn't in direct sunlight.  I was fucking freaking out anyway.  In 6 years since we've had that car, I don't think I've ever locked the keys in the car.  Ever.

After they left, TFP called my phone, and I answered.  He came to give me $20.  So, I put the landscaper's phone back in their truck with some cash to pay for the phone bill.  And that was that.  We went home.  I gave Rudy a ton of treats and hugs.  I don't know if he really understood why.  

So, go ahead judge me all you want, if it makes you feel better.  I totally judged myself.  I ruled Guilty!

Tony Bourdain Is Dead

That's what my husband said that got me out of bed yesterday morning.  I'm sure you have all posted your opinion, your feelings on the subject.  Some may already have Tony Bourdain fatigue, while others may still be in shock and trying to understand.  The weird thing is, we had just finished watching season 2 of "13 Reasons Why" the night before.  Coupled with the suicide by hanging of Kate Spade just a few days before, it was a suicide themed week.

I won't go on a diatribe (I feel like he used that word often) about how Tony Bourdain let me down.  Or about how he was a coward, or about how it's bullshit that a hero who influenced my life could do this to me.  I'm not going to say how selfish he was.  His life was still his life to share or not to share. There seems to be an element of being a public figure that is very unselfish.

I don't understand.  No one can understand.  But maybe some can empathize.  I think about death all the time.  Maybe I think about death even more since both of my parents are gone.  When I think about death, I don't fear the end of my life.  I fear how that might come about.  I don't want a hideous horrible violent death. Most people don't.  I talk about death a lot.  For some it's a heavy topics, but for me, I don't find the topic disturbing.

I've thought about suicide.

I've had dark nights where I felt like my emotions were weighing me down so much that I would never be able to climb out of my emotional pit.  Sometimes I didn't want to climb out of that pit.  I just wanted to wallow in my ugly emotion. Sometimes I didn't want that pain to end... I wanted to hold on to it.

Sometimes, I wanted the pain to end.

I've contemplated how I would want to end my life at my own hand.  I never came up with a solution I was "happy" with.  Which way would be the least painless, the least messy, the least shocking for someone to find?  I never organized my thoughts to write a suicide note.  Surely if I were to kill myself, I would have to write a NOTE, since writing is kinda my thing, right?  I also knew that no matter how awful I felt that night, it would always be better the next day.  I knew that it might not be ok in the morning, but it would be at least incrementally better.  But it's not easy to make it to morning.  Sometimes we don't want to make it through the night.  Sometimes we don't want that human contact, that one gesture that will bring us back to society.  Maybe sometimes its the luck of the draw - having just enough time alone with our awful thoughts.  I really don't know.

I know that famous people carry a burden that non famous people can't understand and often envy.  Non famous people can also carry a burden that others can't understand.  I've been told I'm lucky, or I've had it easy, I have my shit together, I seem so stable and even keeled.  Sometimes it is true.  Sometimes it couldn't be farther than the truth.  Just because I've built an almost impenetrable wall around my deepest secrets, doesn't mean they don't exist, or that they don't affect my everyday life.  I don't have any deep revelations.  We just have to remember that in the words of Michael Stipe... everybody hurts And in the words of Elliot Wolf... be nice.  LOL - its good for you. 😘

Jokes during first period. (warning, explicit female punctuation ahead, not for fainthearted people who can't handle a little bloodlines)

And second period..
And third period...
And 4800th period🎈

In order to say you've mastered something, one of my culinary school professors said you have to do something 1000 times. I guess I've mastered the art of the period, then.

This whole blog entry started because I'm kind stress crazy. Oh & I'm on the rag. I looked in my underwear & I said to myself, I've got Scarlett Johansson in my pants.

P.  -The scarlet letter

Sometimes the toilet looks like the Red Sea. I wonder if the salinity is comparable?

During the heavy days I think, the clot thickens

On light days, I think, go with the flow

Aunt Flo always gives me a birthday present, an anniversary present, a beach day present, a wedding present.... so many occasions, how does one find the time.

What is as long as it is messy?

Why can't we just pee it out like the boys say?

Sometimes if I am taking a long time in the bathroom, I wonder if I should say, I didn't poo, I just took a long time to clean up all that blood. Then I would wink.

Fiber is good. Fibroid is bad.

Which sounds more correct, my uterus, or my meterus?

If men had periods, they would be more like a tilde (I had to google tilde - I typed in,"what is the punctuation above the Spanish n"), and women would have to help them change their tampons & pads. And think of all the chocolate fudge sundaes we would have to make for them!

Fail

So, it's a very rough time of year for our restaurant.  I am constantly checking the bank balance and trying to play tetris with our finances.  Sure, everyone warned me that it isn't easy running a restaurant.  Everyone said it's a lot of work.  Everyone said most restaurants fail within the first few years.  I knew that.  We did grow our clientele and our notoriety.  We got to a point where we foolishly thought our new low in sales on any given night was higher than the first year when no one knew we existed.

We were wrong.

Some of these nights, 2 of us could run the whole restaurant - not 5 - 7 of us.  But we don't know.  That's the thrill of it.  The unpredictability.

There's always a reason we might be slow - school is starting, school just started.  Holiday week next week.  NFL season.  The world series.  Republican debate.  Miami Heat are playing.  Street festival downtown.  Funky Buddha bottle release.  Ultra Fest.  Some other beer festival in Miami, Key West, Palm Beach, Boston, Colorado, or wherever.

We tried happy hour or "Sunny hour" as we named it.  A poorly timed article the week before we closed for vacation, and a promise of another article that never happened were our publicity.  Sure, we posted on facebook & in a newsletter.  Initially, some people showed up, but then, you know.  School started.  Lots of traffic.  Heavy rain.  Yoga night.  Walk the dogs & laundry.  Kids are sick.

So, today is Veterans Day.  On looking at instagram, I noticed that we need to do an offer for military to show our appreciation for them risking their life for our country.  Seems reasonable.  Risk your life, get a discount.  I'm game.  Someone called to ask when we open today.  They also asked what we are offering for veterans.  I said, your first drink is free.

I got laughed at.  "You're giving veterans who served your country for you a free drink?"  More laughing.  What should I give?  A free appetizer?  It's the same price.  Is that too cheap?  I'm not good with these kinds of things.  What is appreciative enough without putting us under?

 I can't really afford to pay my bills.  My car is 7000 miles past due for service.  And I'm being cheap.

A drink here can be between $2 for a soda to $10 for a glass of pinot noir.  If a veteran comes in and orders a $5 half soba noodle salad and a $8 beer, that's a $13 tab.  That's a 61% discount (and yes I did need to use a calculator.) If the same veteran comes in and spends $100 (which is difficult for 1 person to do), and the veteran also gets a $10 glass of wine included in that $100, that's 10% off (no, I didn't have to use the calculator for that one).  What would be more generous, more appreciative to our veterans, who risked life and limb, but not put us in debt?  Well, nothing, because we are already in debt.

I know the veteran who comes in and specifically wants some kind of discount or free item doesn't care about our finances.  But, I do. I care about our finances.

I never have served in the military.  I would have served in the military if called upon.  At one point I thought I wanted to join. But I didn't. I can't empathize.  I guess I sometimes feel underappreciated.  I know what that feels like.  I guess I know what it's like to be behind the scenes, helping things run smoothly while others are able to perform their jobs better because some small unseen task that I did.

But I don't really go fishing for discounts.  I did once go somewhere on my birthday to get the free prime rib.  But we still ended up spending well over $100.  We might not have spent that much if I hadn't gotten the free prime rib.

Ok.... now back to work.  End of sad rant.

Amazing

Isn't it crazy how one sentence can either ruin your day or make your day great?

Beware!

I just felt that I needed to post this.

 I was in Publix (it's a grocery store) today.  I had my reusable grocery bag and it was on my shoulder but filled with stuff.  I had my purse slung across my shoulder on the other side, but it was low and loose.  I'm sure I looked flustered and disoriented as I always do when I am making groceries for work.  I was walking by the entrance aisle, and these two shady drifter looking guys passed me.  One passed closer to me than necessary.  I felt the urge to grab my purse when he passed.  But, whatever.

So, I went down the pet aisle to get cat litter.  I grabbed the litter at the far end of the aisle, and I turn around to go to the checkout.  Guess who was lurking behind me in the aisle?  The 2 drifter looking guys.  They were both close together pointing and looking at charcoal.  I passed them and then they moved on to look at swiffers.  I went straight to the checkout, and I pushed in close to the person in front of me, and I kept hold of my purse.  I turn to see the guys come from the aisle empty handed, and they passed to the far entrance and walked out.

Do I think I was being paranoid?  Fuck no.  Who looks at charcoal and then swiffers and then leaves?

It reminds me of my friend's story from years ago about a guy or maybe more than one who would target a woman at the grocery store and follow her home and try to assault her.

Anyway.  All I'm trying to say is be careful out there.  Always be aware of your surroundings, especially when you got a lot of shit going on and are not paying attention!

Old

So, last year on my birthday, I was brushing my hair and I found a long long silver hair.  It was long.  And white.  Yesterday, on my 40th birthday, I noticed a cluster of varicose veins and spider veins on my leg.  I had previously noticed a cluster on my ankle that was mildly sore, but the new one was frightening.

So, here's my dilemna do I go for support hose, or do I start tattooing my legs like my brilliant bff has been doing....

Because, there is no way I'm going to get more time to get off my feet and elevate them more often.  I could do stretches and exercises, but at the end of the day, being on my feet for 10 -14 hours isn't going to help alleviate the varicose veins and spider veins.....

So, happy birthday to me.  I'm going to eat my 3 cakes and admire my flowers I got!