Robin and Me

So much in my head. So much. Too much, perhaps. Let's see how it all comes out.

I got a job yesterday. They hired me on the spot. It went something like this:

My original plan included hitting every service restaurant within walking distance. That includes Ruby Tuesday [Hooray for salad!], The Green Turtle [although, can you see me working in a sports joint?], Bailey's [which to me just screams, "Consume a lot of alcohol!"], The Longhorn [but, I am not that country [regardless of what you may think]], and The Red Robin [BIG Burgers served at the speed of light].

As chance would have it [or God] I chose to make Red Robin the first stop on my journey. I sauntered in [not really, I can't saunter] and requested an application from the hostess. Now, I had the spent 20 minutes prior to entering the establishment realizing that this was the one and only time I did not have a pen handy. And of course I needed one. The hostess didn't seem to mind, though. She lent me hers [oh, crap, did I steal her pen?!].

Anyhow, I filled out the paper, which I found to be refreshingly short and to the point [one page front and back] and strolled back up to the hostess stand. She kindly asked if I would like to speak to a manager. She was so nice. It is my personal belief that the majority of hostesses do not come that way and I found her friendliness a pleasant surprise. I said yes, I would very much like to speak to the man in charge and she wandered off to retrieve him.

I took this opportunity to inspect the premises. Sadly, I think my nerves might have been in control of the situation because I am at a loss to describe to you what I saw. I do remember a mild mannered red-headed man, wearing what could only be referred to as "spectacles," quietly eating his lunch by the bar. I remember him because a moment later the hostess reappeared with an "oh silly me" smile on her face. She walked up to the man and handed him my resume. I was a bit taken aback.

Had I known that the manager had been in my presence while I completed my application I may have done things a bit differently. As he read over the paper he had just received it suddenly occurred to me that I was staring at him.

I began to pace nonchalantly. I walked up to the door, then over to the hostess stand, and then again to the door. I slowly turned to make my way back to the stand and there in front of me stood the Mild-Mannered Man. He introduced himself and shook my hand. I made a point to give him a firm handshake. It's not really my style, but I know it matters. We took a seat and began to make small talk slash discuss my qualifications. I don't really remember the conversation, except that I felt I'd made a good impression. He told me he wanted to get another manager and excused himself. At that moment I had a fantastic revelation.

I realized that I am fairly good with shy people [most of them anyway [and particularly in the professional realm]]. I am good at drawing people out of their shell. My bubbly personality sparkles in the light. On the other hand, I tend to be intimated by loud personalities. I am easily overshadowed and uncomfortable with the idea that I don't know what is about to happen next. Wow, I thought, what luck that the Mild-Mannered Man had been my interviewer.

Just then I saw another man approaching. He wasn't much bigger than the Mild-Mannered Man, but I could tell by his fast pace and the slightly wild look in his eyes [I could see even from across the room] that he did not share the same demeanor.

"Hello!" He boomed, reaching out to shake my hand, "How are you!"


I firmly gripped his hand and shook it solidly, just as I had done with his co-worker. I sat down trying not to show that I was bracing myself. My application had revealed that I was about to be a bride and we chatted about that, about my availability and other things of that sort.

"So," He said suddenly, devilish smilecrept upon his face, "A DWI, huh? Wow."

I smiled sheepishly, taking a deep breath and preparing to begin my shpeal.

"Yeah, well, I definitely learned my lesson," I began.

"Oh yes, me, too. That's about the same time I got mine." He laughed. Very nice.

We chatted for a while about the regulatory stuff. Eventually he morphed into manager mode.

"Why should I hire you as opposed to the next person who walks into the building?" He inquired. Oh, good grief. These questions are always a joy.

I thought for a moment.

"Hmm." I said, trying to keep a smile, "Well, um, I'm bubbly. And I'm reliable. And, um . . ."

I could see that the standard way of answering this question was not doing it's job. Let's take a different approach.

"You know what?" I stated with all the boldness I could muster, "I'm good. I'm really good. People like me, I like serving them. It just works."

My answer was met with another devilish smile. He turned his head toward the bar and called out to the woman working behind it.

"Can you please bring me a menu?" He asked. She obeyed. He smiled at me. "Prove it." He said. "I'll be back in two minutes, sell me something from the menu."

Oh crap.

That's not exactly what I meant. I wasn't talking sales. I was saying I wouldn't screw up their order and I'd remember to refill their drinks. No matter. Apparently it was game time. I scanned the menu. What would I get? Oh, yes. That's it. I didn't need two minutes. He sat back down and I took a deep breath.

"So," I smiled, pretending not to hate role-playing, "Have you tried our Whiskey River BBQ Burger?"

"No," He lied, for the sake of the experiment.

"Well, I'd like to recommend it. You see the secret to a good BBQ sauce is to throw in some alcohol. Seriously. It sounds funky, but it adds just the right tang. And this burger comes with our bottomless steak fries seasoned just right. You can't go wrong."

"I like your confidence." He said. It's all a facade, I thought, hoping I hadn't been stuttering. "You're hired."

Sweet! I think it was the handshake.

------------------------------------------------------------------

I had planned to talk about all of the other things happening in my life right now. Too much. This has been fun, but alas, the good times must eventually end. This apartment isn't going to clean itself.

Impatient Perfection

I'm not entirely pleased with my creation thus far. It doesn't feel organic. I dove in so fast I missed a bit of quality control.

I'm stumped.

I don't love the name. I don't know if I can change it. I don't know if I should scrap the whole thing and begin again.

Jermaine and I are so different. He relishes starting from scratch [the process]. He's so attuned to the details, the inner-workings. Everything he touches [and finally finishes after hours and hours of labor] just sparkles.

That's not exactly how I operate.

I want to have something to show for myself. I want to look like I've been hard at work - slaving over my computer. But, I've got things to do, so could we just wrap it up already?

I think, "Let's get it all out and then I'll make it pretty later."

I mean, that's all well and good for this particular venture. Blogging is just for fun. But, I take myself so seriously. I demand perfection without first putting forth any magnificent effort.

And then I complain about the end product.

My hope for this blog is that it will chart my growth as a budding writer.*

I don't know exactly what I'm going for. I think my original lofty expectations that this little blog would magically blast me into fortune and fame [I'm kidding - sort of . . .] were a bit misguided.

I think when it comes down to it, I just want to write. I hope I get better [it has taken me 10 freaking minutes to figure out how to say those last two sentences and I'm not even completely satisfied].

Good night [I can never think of a suitable way to end].

"Sigh."

*This blog may or may not reflect the previously referenced growth.

Green Goings On

In honor of Saint Patrick, I am posting some of my greenest photography.

She really has to go to the bathroom.

Mr. PianoMan, your shirt is blinding me.

Surprise, you're on Candid Santa!

"Help, this little man trapped me in this green bubble and that girl won't stop playing her stupid piano to rescue me!"

Okay, this isn't really green. But, it is the back of Questlove's head, and I think that's good enough.

They're half-heartedly chasing a leprechaun.

I finally fit into the shorts! Unfortunately, I also have a tail . . .

My thoughtful Irish pose.

Yeah. No caption necessary.

"Yes, I am up to no good. Too bad I'm so freaking cute, right?"

When you're five, flying and horseback riding are virtually the same thing.

Us after a long day of class skipping and web-surfing.

Yes, kid. This is what talent looks like.

I hope you liked my pictures. I planned on writing an intense blog about going green [environmental damage, global warming, blah, blah, blah], but this is what materialized. I still might [just a warning(;].

Happy St. Patrick's Day [drink green beer].

Will Blog for Comments

Some of my favorite quotes of the day:

"And you know what color God is?" My 6-year-old inquired shortly after explaining that angels come in all kinds of different colors [blue, green, red, silver, etc.]. The one she encountered had been white [the color, not the skin tone].

"What color?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Blue. Light Blue."

------------------------------

"French toast is a lot like sex." - Jermaine

No explanation needed, of course.

------------------------------

Brandy: "Did they use correlated aluminum?!"

Jermaine: [big hardy laugh] "See, they know."

Again, pretty self-explanatory.

------------------------------

Tonight I made French toast just like my Grandma used to make [except that I got my recipe from an online resource and it was entitled, "Denny's Style French Toast"[and she never made it for dinner, I don't believe]]. My Grandma never dined at Denny's. I bet corporate America stole her secret recipe.

This is my attempt at interesting photography. How'd I do?

That's Irish butter in the picture. How appropriate.

-----------------------------

Jewel made me cry yesterday.

"Please be careful with me. I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way."

Man.

Pieces of You debuted when I was a teenager. Listening to that album was like visiting a dear old friend. We reminisced about forgotten innocence. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Sadie and I bonded over songs like "Little Sister" and "I'm sensitive." She's the reason I put it on in the first place. She has really sophisticated taste in music [unlike her mom, who usually prefers the melodies of Rihanna and Ms. Aguilera].

----------------------------

I'm in a random mood. This has been a random blog.

I should probably get my kid to bed. Thanks for tuning in.

Two Turn-Tables and an iPhone

I spent $80 on Easter candy today.

Don't judge me.

I've never constructed Easter baskets before [I don't start out small [I'm making six total [my niece, my nephew, my kid, and my best friend's 3 boys]]]. There is a slight chance I went overboard.

We went to the Lancaster Dutch Market [to fill the baskets], one of my new favorite places. The vibe is all pleasant and yummy. Everything is laced with a homemade flavor. They bake their own bread and butcher and grind their own meat. And you can find everything from gummie bears to dairy to fresh flowers.

I love going there because [lately] when I shop at ordinary grocery stores, I find myself taking hours longer than I'd planned reading labels [trying to decipher how the product ended up in my hands [and whether or not the hands of the folks manufacturing it were well cared for]]. Sometimes you just can't tell.

I didn't feel the need to do that in the Market. It's calming to trust the people from whom you purchase [Is that even close to being correct grammar? [I was just kind of making it up]].

Good stuff.

I attended a Power Yoga class today. Every time I enter a yoga studio I am struck by the fact that I am so not zen. This truth doesn't bother me at any other point in my daily life. But put me in a classroom filled with bendy soccer moms and I sweat stress.

First of all, it smells like feet. It's not my feet [I actually take great measures to ensure that my feel smell rosy]. And the music? Come on.

Some of the stress is purely linked to my own, um, unique way of doing business.

Beyonce calms me down. If I want to relieve stress I scream at the top of my lungs and punch something with all my might [thankfully I'm not that strong]. I did that today in fact. But that's another story.

I have to say though, Power Yoga proved itself. My body [still] hurts so good [the instructor said that like four times [can't go around plagiarizing Yoga instructors] Is Yoga supposed to be capitalized? Anybody?



I had the pleasure of listening to the sweet melodious sounds of Zelos [Jermaine's Band] this fine night. They rock dude. Sadie acted as their makeshift photographer.

She rocks, too. She rocked out. Says she really really wants to learn to play the "ki-tar."

Good grief I love that kid.

These pictures were taken with an iPhone [by my 6 year old [in bad light]]. Imagine a pint-size person walking around a coffeehouse bursting with people. Her brow is furrowed as she studies the screen, trying to capture the band in the best possible light.

The coffeehouse I spoke about is formally called Ebenezer's. It's in DC and to get there we had get lost in Connecticut and Massachusetts [and then dissect a frog and feed his carcass to a pack of wild elephants]. Jermaine says he has a very comforting and predictable relationship with the District. He knows that every he comes through she's going to welcome him with an unguided tour that last a minimum of two hours and always leave him running late on an empty gas tank.

But fun was had by all.

Well folks, I believe I should slumber now. Toodles. Sweet dreams.

The Truth about Santa Claus

Man, what a day. Filled with sweat, blogs, my true calling and the truth about the Easter Bunny.

You may or may not have realized that I spent the better part of the day creating my own little corner of cyberspace. 13th time is a charm. This is the last post, I swear. But I couldn't end on an old blog.

Where to start? Hmm. Well, you know about sweat, my other blogs are full up with sweat. You might also know about blogs, or else, how on earth did you get here?

Good question. I'll keep the ball rolling.

There's a chance you're less familiar with my true calling.

Up until about a year ago I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. I went back to college in 2006 hoping I'd figure it out along the way. People would ask me [a 26 year single mom who'd quit her job to return to school full-time] what I was studying. I would smile and confess my uncertainty. That went over well.

And then one day I was driving home. I don't remember the exact circumstances. I just know suddenly it hit me like a lightning bolt. And I knew.

I wanted to be a preacher.

Yikes. What? Why? I don't know. I can't explain it. I felt so calm and everything seemed to make sense. Tears came streaming down my face. It just felt so right. For days I floated around the world. Yay God!

I floated all the way to cloud 9. My life had meaning, purpose, significance!

Beat.

Then came the doubts.

First of all, I'm a woman. I'm young. My past is riddled with shadiness. I stutter. I'm not incredibly sure of myself. I don't have a commanding presence. I make rash decisions. And I'm not even close to being equipped enough to teach, counsel and minister.

I've been waffling for awhile now. Is this what God really wants? Really? It's a huge calling and I am so not worthy. For a year now I have bathed in my incertitude. Enough is enough.

This morning I prayed and asked for a sign [if He wanted to give me one]. I don't usually ask for signs. But I had a feeling I might get one.

And I did.

It came through Rob Bell [Pastor in Michigan of a church called Mars Hill]. I was listening to his most recent sermon while picking up my messy apartment. At the very end he went on this mini shpiel on doubting. He said that one of the painful parts of pastoring had to do with other people's junk. Not only did he have to deal with his own digressions, he must counsel others on their's. And after listening to the worst of worst [when things that would just go haywire] sometimes he felt like giving up. Like why even try?

He said that doubts are fine, but they need to be tested, probed and drop-kicked. You have to hold them up to the light, throw them in the deep end and see if they float. Like: what if he did quit? What if he gave up, slept in on Sunday, and threw it all away? What about the people whose lives have been changed because of Mars Hill? What about the saved lives? What would he say? Or do?

In that light, it begins to sound silly. And again, I had tears streaming down my face. So what if I'm a girl? So what if I'm young. And thank God for the mistakes I've made because they've given me the endless stream of passion and conviction that I possess today. So what if I stutter [so did Moses]? And as for the rest, if God wants this of me, He will use and mold my tendency to make rash decisions and my ordinary presence.

So, boo-ya, doubts! Take that. There's your sign.

As exciting as that was it wasn't the most eventful part of my day. I told her. I did it. The Easter Bunny. Santa Claus. Even the Tooth Fairy. It's all out in the open. And to be honest, it's a little heartbreaking.

I grew up on Santa. Even after I figured it out I lied to my parents so they'd buy me more stuff. My parents never told me about Jesus. I didn't know the story. Santa was the reason for the season, the only way I could rationally explain all of the hoopla.

I was saved shortly before my daughter turned 3. Since that time I have been wrestling with this whole Santa dilemma. My mom is a huge Santa fan. And she gets even more excited about Easter. Every year we have a big egg hunt, search for baskets and finish the day with a home cooked meal. And I love it. It good clean family fun. But still, how can we justify lying to our kids [and then punish them for lying to us]? I know it's not exactly that simple. And I loathe the idea of bursting my daughter's magic bubble. So in the 3 years since this first came about, I've kept my mouth shut.

But a couple of weeks ago I heard an argument that I found hard to ignore.

Santa knows when you've been naughty or nice; and he can be all over the world in one night.

Hmm.

God knows when you've been naughty or nice; and He can be all over the world in one night.

At least one of those sentences is not true. But, if we lied to them about Santa, who's to say we're not lying about Jesus?

And why, for goodness sake, does some supernatural fictional character dominate both of the major Christian holidays?

I could ignore my conscience no longer. And there is no day like the present. We sat her down. Jermaine did most of the talking [thank God]. He spoke about Jesus and the resurrection [we decided to focus on Easter first, seeing that it is upon us]. She had lots of questions. He told her the truth and explained the reason for the charade [fattening the pockets of corporate America, of course]. She asked about Santa and the Tooth Fairy. We confessed it all. She was sad, but I think overall she took it pretty well. We asked her to let the parents of her Santa-loving friends do the telling when they were ready. She agreed.


These are not the greatest photos. But they do capture "the talk."

I feel compelled to do something really nice for her. I'm dreading telling my mom. But, I think we did the right thing.

I'm dying to hear what you think. I know this is a touchy subject - touch away.

Ms. Jillian Michaels

So, having embarked on this venture for [I hope] last time I feel pumped, ready and powerful.

And so you can imagine my excitement when I stumbled upon the book, Making The Cut by Jillian Michaels [bad-ass Biggest Loser trainer]. She vows if you are fit and have less than 20 pounds to lose you can achieve a smoking body in 30 days. Here we go, yes indeed.

I bought it and am on day three of putting it to the test [already I'm exhausted].

No cheat days.

No alcohol.

This is exactly what I need[exclamation mark! exclamation mark!].

According to her plan, I am a "balanced oxidizer" and my diet should consist of:
30% Protein
30% Fat and
40% Carbohydrates

Let's see how I measure up today [today being two days ago - again with the restructuring].

Scrambled egg - 100 [100 - P]
Whole Wheat Cinnamon Raisin Bread with Low-fat Cream Cheese - 90 [70 - C] [20 - P]
Coffee with sugar and vanilla soy milk - 150 [70 - P] [80 - F]
Tangerine - 30 [30 - C]
Chocolate-Covered Frozen Banana - 130 [80 - C] [50 - F]
Taco Bell Steak Supreme Chalupa - 380 [207 - C] [120 - F] [56 - P]
Starbucks Short Non-fat Mocha - 112 [11- F] [85 - C] [27 - P]
Black and White Cookie - 120 [80 - C] [40 - F]
1/2 Ham Sandwich with Cheddar, Lettuce, Tomato, and Onion - 250 [130 - C] [100 - P] [20 - F]
Blackberries - 20 [20 - C]

Total - 1382
Carbs - 702 [ideal - 552]
Protein - 353 [ideal - 414]
Fat - 321 [ideal - 414]

I didn't realize I ate so many carbs today. Hmm. Better luck tomorrow.

Editor's Note: The following morning I would go on to discover a little bit of weight loss. So, as it turns out those carbs didn't hurt me all that much.