Mother to Daughter

I returned home this weekend from a whirlwind of work and fun during the Indian Summer Storytelling Festival. My mind a bit boggled with new ideas and my body just worn out from all the last minute details, I started my day Tuesday like any other. My eyes told me it was to early to wake up, so I listened to my three alarms for a good half hour and then forced myself to get ready for work. I walked through the doors and began setting up the restaurant and half way into serving tables I received a beautiful treat.

Two dozen lilac roses in a wonderful glass vase appeared for me. All my co-workers wondered who was courting me. I laughed at this because I knew who the roses were from: MY MOM!

I was asked recently in an interview if it was difficult working with my mom. I found this thought foreign. My mom and I have always been interested in the same things. We share the same views to a certain extent, and we both value community and culture and want to give back. Sure we have our moments of disagreeing, but we always talk those through. The only hard part about working for my mom is that others don't seem to understand how one can be building work experience with their parents.

Yet, I continue to learn so much from, and with, this women. She never gives up, she keeps going, she does what she is passionate about, she rolls with the punches, and she is able to control a room of people in the subtlest of voice. So to be able to learn from this women is an amazing gift. And to receive two dozen roses from this women is no small matter. It was a thank you, but more than that it's a symbol of our connection. Like Mother, Like Daughter, our relationship is ever growing. And I find it a blooming masterpiece to call her Mom, boss, friend.

Walking with my Cons.

As I walked to my regular coffee shop today, I stared down at my feet as they padded the cement sidewalk descending downhill. I wondered to myself: How long should one keep a pair of shoes?

You see lately, a lot of things have been going through my mind (and as I'm sure my friends could tell you I have been a bit preoccupied with my life and thoughts). But back to the shoes. My Cons. have been with me ever since 9th grade (though I should say I got them in 8th grade, the same day I received my first "grounding" from my parents--Crystal and I did the whole "we're staying at each others house" bit--which should have been a huge indicator that the shoes wouldn't fit and I would have to wait a whole year to receive the right size).

Anyhoo... these shoes have lasted through running, river wading, choir practice with three girls writing and drawing on them until all the white rimmed plastic was covered in art and ridiculous sayings, concerts, hiking, and well all that and more for 14 years. And the miracle of miracle is--they still fit.

So when do you throw a pair of shoes away? Especially, a pair of shoes that still retains the faded drawings and conversations of three young girls that called each other friends. If you have an answer to this random thought of mine please respond. If you are as perplexed as me ask a friend.

5 things that baffle me:

5. The need people have to tell a server they are waiting for people, when it is quite obvious there are four menus on a table and only one person.

This happens every day I work, at least once if not more. I don't understand the desire to inform someone you are waiting when it is so obvious. Plus, why can't a person get a drink while they are waiting for other guests to arrive. They are the ones that are late, why do you have to suffer?

4. The desire to have a cell phone with you at all times (including in your car, at a restaurant, or while watching a movie).

It drives me bonkers when a person begins responding to a text while watching a movie at the movie theater. Tickets to a movie aren't cheap, let alone the cost of pop-corn and soda, why in the world do you want disturb your viewing experience (let alone those around you) just to write three letters LOL (by the way, this is not a word, nor is it out loud, it is pixelated). Furthermore, when did it become a problem for the human race to have human interaction? It's dinner time people, talk to the person that is in front of you instead of sending texts threw phone antennas.

3. The need to sale a holiday three months before the actual date, and then take down all merchandise the day before said holiday and begin sales of the next holiday.

If you read my last blog, you know my feelings towards the "pink" aisle. Currently, though the pink aisle quickly transformed to pastels. I am now being told bunnies, eggs, tulips, and shamrocks somehow go together. (I think they combined two holidays and it goes unnoticed to the wily consumer).

2. The response of many costumers when asked, "How are you today?," their response is "Diet Coke."

This is not a state of being people. If you must know most servers are talking about you behind your back when you do this. Let's all go back to Etiquette class and respond next time with, "Fine, thank you. And how are you?" Servers like to be noticed and recognized as people. We are not robots responding to your beck and call.

1. The reliance on cell phones and the near extinction of phone calls.

This is a mystery to me. Telephones were invented so we could talk to those that could not readily be in front of us. To find a cell phone today that provides clarity in sound while talking on the phone is almost an impossibility. Instead we consumers get phones that can communicate by text, Internet, e-mail, twitter, Facebook, blog, and whatever else they can think of that has no human voice behind it. Furthermore, text-ing is taking away language. Now in conversations I hear, IDK, OMG, LOL. These are letters people, speak words please, even when the telegraph was the source of communication, they spelled out STOP. And finally when did "text" become a verb?

Roses, Chocolates, Stuffed Teddy Bears, and a really ticked off Server

For years now, there has been a creeping shadow behind me that grows every year at the end of January, which has made me become overwhelmingly aware of the animosity I feel when I pass that ridiculously pink aisle at the grocery store. It's not the cheap value of chocolate products, fake roses, or poorly constructed teddy bears, but the all to present awareness that I want (and care) for a boy to give me a box of those substandard sweets that cost $5.99.

However, I spent the day of Feb. 14th working (the whole day might I add). Twelve hours of standing on my feet serving sappy love birds that rarely go out to dinner, but decided to splurge on said special day, and in turn left little or no tip because they were only willing to splurge on the food itself (do you hear the resentment).

My second shift began at 5:00 pm. As I walked the floor a friend/fellow server decided to attach to my head a Valentine's head band, that could only be described as Care Bear Ears on my head. So there I was helping each love bird in turn, rocking Care Bear Love Ears, and a scowl upon my face, wishing for cheap chocolates from the stupid pink store aisle (knowing none would arrive and so wanting a cigarette because quitting sucks), and it dawned on me:

"Who would have thought that my Valentines Day celebrations would have peaked in 5th grade when Dennis asked me to attend the school supported tea party (which was really a way to teach us manners and didn't have tea but lime sherbet in generic Sprite soda)?"

This thought weirdly put a smile to my face. And I thought of myself at age 10, dressed in that white frilly dress of mine, standing from my desk and getting in paired lines, Dennis directly in the line next to me. We proceeded down the hall, down the stairs, to the small theater the school had decorated with small tables and glass tea cups, and every table was silent, no one could say a thing to each other. We all just wore blushed cheeks and bashful glances.

Oh, those were the days. If only we women knew at the time how great our love lives were in elementary school. Let's face it, construction paper hearts, decorated shoe boxes, and a bit of glue got us pretty far back in the day. And you didn't even have to hold the boys hand if you didn't want to, let alone put on a ridiculously uncomfortable outfit, or kiss the guy. No, with the use of dulled scissors and a paper doily a girl could get all the sweets and love letters she needed to last her until the next year.

The looming shadow eased a bit as I remembered all those treats in elementary school. Next year, I have decided no matter what I do on February 14th, I will carry around a Valentine's Day Decorated Shoe Box to be filled with treats. And maybe I'll track down Dennis for a real cup of tea.