My room...

I've been considering, really really considering, my room lately. Since Charlie's departure, I have claimed this room as mine. Only mine. I enjoy the fact that I've decorated to my taste and continue to do so; my plants, my kids pics. When you have no room in your life for a later in life relationship, you really begin to appreciate all the blessings that have been there all along but you've been 'out of tune' with. Not that I have not appreciated my home since we moved in, I just appreciate it more, with Charlie gone.

I've realized with great relief and with great gratitude, that I am a 'clean' person. Not one for sludge and crap. I also have found that I am not one for picking up after another person. I so prefer when they pick up after themselves. The kids seemed to find that page, but not my roommate. He was, however, being 'retired,' good at working on his tan and taking care of the pool. Well, the pool seems to be taking care of itself, under Nick's watchful eye, without being full of chemicals. The Jersey way. Poison everything. The weeks, the grass in the lanai blocks, the vines, the pool. Crystal clear water that feels like a chemical bath...

My entry to this blog is not complaining and not judgemental. It is merely a 'purging' of all things NOT me. I think it's long overdue that I find out who Lynn is and welcome my comfort and my comfortable surroundings, and my very own little family. I thank God for my blessings each and every day. Thank you my Father. Thank you for keeping the 'trial' period short. Thank you for removing the scale off of my eyes.

My little anteroom, off my beautiful bedroom, is now my writing spot and a wonderful writing spot it is!! In moving from the dining room table to here, I am now facing our lush green yard full of deep shades of green of every hue. My view is the banana palms and the Sago palm and the Sweet potato vines and the trees, critters, my pool and my future plan of a hot tub just outside this door. First, I must figure out my screen system for these doors in order to bring the fall and winter in once the a/c goes off.

My room is my tranquil spot, my respite from the outside, my place of peace. It is the most beautiful room I've ever had, although every single one of my rooms throughout all these years, has been beautiful in their own right. I loved my first little attic apartment way back in '70, and have loved every space since. I've always been generous in sharing 'my space' with lovers, but once they left, it was back to mine. Husbands were a different story. They tended to not go away very easily, although I eventually managed to drive them all away in one form or another. Or is it that they managed to drive me away in one form or another????

In my room, there is a large tiled bathroom with two sinks and lots of cabinet space! There is a big tub in the 'water closet' portion of the bathroom. And, a fixed toilet. I imagine there is a problem with seating a toilet on 18'' tile flooring. I am working on my 'tropical' theme. And, everything is c l e a n. No sludge, no filth, no scale, no stuck shit in the toilet. Clean.

My walk in closet is the best. For the first time in my life, my clothes are neatly piled, hung and very accessible and easy to find. The closet is big enough to comfortably change in although that is no longer an issue for me.

I am determined to not see my blessings this time around. As time goes by and as I get older, everything will become more precious to me and everything that is not beneficial to me will fall by the wayside. I am thankful. My Abba blesses me.

The end of Charlie

I am amazed at how I can change so quickly. For the past several years I've been thinking of how lonely I feel. Feeling lonely being alone; looking at couples everywhere and feeling alone. Being the 'third wheel' with Nick and Flor; me, always alone. And then, as always, I start 'looking' on the internet for an old flame or a new one. Got a new one a couple of years back who obviously was only interested in the sex and that's not what I thought I wanted so that ended. Still feeling lonely and alone, I search the internet and one day find Charlie. The Charlie I remembered, the hot, sexy long haired rebel, is now 61, Ok, so we've all aged. But, the hot sexy long haired rebel is now a hypochondriac, fearful; full of drama and New Jersey co dependent with his family. Well, maybe we can get through this.

We move in together February 2011 after he leaves his wife, sells his condo and moves down to Florida. All's well for the first couple of weeks then the mistakes start happening. Tara's tax return, Flor's tax return, inability to fix anything to last. Whining, drama-ing, family phone calls constantly, fearing everything from raccoons to kids on trampolines...Uh oh. Then, I find that I'm not happy coming home nor do I want to come home. I'm not dealing well with the snoring, so I move upstairs. I can't stand the constant 'I'm right always" attitude and I really can't stand the 'family' visit in April. So, I think, too many years alone with no one. Can't mix it up as a couple. Never danced once. Not once. I hear about this Mambo thing and I never dance once. Sigh. Told I have got to stop howling with the animals while drunk. I think not. I've been howling for years since living on 22 acres of Maine land.. I don't want to eat lamb for Easter, but, must cause that's what Momma used to make. Phone calls, phone calls, new problems, old problems. This guy is too old for me. This is not...my Charlie. Too many prescription drugs, too many ailments. Please get me out of this. Still feeling like I have no home since none of it is mine. I say I'll try, but I can't get over the pissed off constant feeling in my deepest gut. I turn to God. I leave it to Him to fix and fix it He does. Charlie leaves a note that he came to Florida to be with me and not be a roommate so he's going to live with his brother, the imitable Jimmy the porn freak, and I have to wonder if he's planning on porking him because to me that's what would NOT constitute being a roommate. One can only wonder. And, now, here we are, two weeks later, and after the saving shot in the back NOT working anymore, he's coming back to see the doctor on the 31st. I find this out from Nick through Rick. Am I expected to 'put him up' when he comes back? Sure, no problem, but, guess what, you're sleeping upstairs in the guest room because YOUR room is now MY room and I'm very very happy over that.

I feel like this guy was trying to 'absorb' my life and my world. Take over anything that appeared to be mine and make it all his. My cat, Noodle, the pool, the house...I knew it wouldn't work back at Easter time. I knew it wouldn't work when he fucked up the tax return. You're supposed to be a tax preparer and you fuck them up royally????? Unacceptable. Am I too 'picky?' Am I now destined to be alone forever because I can't bend and adapt? I really don't care anymore. I'll stay alone, with God, and my family. There's nothing more important to me now. We started out this 'new' revived relationship with a lie once again...shades of Athena/Linda. And, yes, theres that stupid bitch facebook status thing. Can't reveal a relationship because maybe Linda will not keep up the health insurance. Not that I have insurance or ever will in the interim...yeah, definitely begrudged. I can't stand the American Idol, I can't stand the music, I can't stand the constant diet of fat and pizza, and I realized I really couldn't much stand Charlie. So much for old flames...

When oh when will it all end???

The days go on and on. Same old shit, different day. Becoming accustomed to the idea that I might be out of a job shortly and I'm ok with that! Through BP's generosity, I can now safely be unemployed for a half year. As a 60 year old line cook, I'm more than ready to become unemployed forever. I'm tired, I hurt, I'm tired of holding this restaurant kitchen together and I'm burnt.

There's so much more to life that I long to experience. It seems like I'm pissed off all of the time. I don't like that. I have been unable to enjoy life for a long time. Who's fault is this??? Why mine of course...No one's responsible for my happiness but myself. If I could extract my head out of my ass and find a way to 'stay on track, ' stop trying to FIX everything and stop allowing myself to get screwed on a regular basis, all would/could be right with the world.

So, what exactly, are the stressors? Well, my brain, of course. But there's the job, the failing restaurant, the 'boyfriend,'...oh, yeah, can we talk about the boyfriend? Why, oh why, did I not listen to my own advice and KNOW you can't go back? The old boyfriend from 35 years ago is now, simply THE OLD boyfriend. One hypochondriac mishap after another...Great. I can't sleep in my new bed cause he snores. I don't go there anymore. I have no need to sleep with anyone, especially someone who snores. So, I have no 'room.' Since I'm sleeping upstairs and my room is devoid of my touches, I have no space. I suppose I could decorate and make the spare room mine, but why must I? We've already had THE discussion and I asked him to go. Six months here and I want him out. I've been alone too long. Husband dead for 7 years...I should've left well enough alone. Now, he thinks everything is fine and thinks he is staying after all but I really want him out. I am so much happier alone. So much happier. Sad, maybe and my kids think that I shouldn't be alone that things will get better, but I say NO. I really really really want to be alone. I want the room, the beautiful bedroom that I don't stay in, to be mine alone. I want to be able to watch tv in bed once again, smoke pot in my bed, watch brain death on the tv and read when I want. I have no room in my life for anyone. Men are simply one disappointment after another. Think I should've learned that one by now...I'm not interested in his family, the drama that comes with them, or the freakin' damn ass American Idol or America's got talent. What the fuck ever. I want my peace, my quiet, my serenity, my aloneness, back. Period.

So, today as I passed the Mothers helping Mothers place I wondered. There is a line two blocks long out front with what looked like mostly Mexican/Hispanic young women with small children or babies. What exactly is that place and do they need help? Why can't I be done with this royal pain in the ass kitchen job and make soap and volunteer to help others? My soap has already proven to be an excellent seller, so, why not? I am very tired also, of not having any interest in life, or reason to be hopeful. Doesn't it all come from within? If all those women are waiting for 'something' they must need help? Don't I have the where with all to help someone in need? In stead of feeling sorry for myself, why don't I put some energy into helping others? I did it before, and loved it. It was wonderfully frustrating, not angry frustrating. I accomplished something back then. I helped someone. I helped ease another human burden if only for a very short time. It felt good. Not at all like this pain in the ass job does. I want to jump out of the plane and fly once more. I'm not good with being pissed off anymore. I want to be joyous once again.

Trouble at the BB Corral...

Ok, so we're waiting for the closing to go through for the new and improved Bimini Bay Restaurant and Lounge. Great name. I continue to get a bad feeling over this sale. No where forward, no where back, seems to be the mantra. There seems to be a problem with the terms of the lease for the new owner. I believe the landlord has cold feet! And rightfully so. The past owner owes him a lot of past due money; the potential new owner has no restaurant experience and is definitely NOT on Island Time. I believe all these things are in consideration by Mr. Owner. And what of us? The loyal employees? The ones who've put up with all the shit to have a job, for the love of the job and, of course, an occasional non bouncing paycheck. And besides, the entertainment is good...The family, the challenges, the owners with their fish for us to cook, the stunning sunsets and the yachts.

I have a distinct feeling that we are descending into a slight issue...I wonder if I could hook up with a awesome line cook job one last time? Damn the torpedos, I'd love to try. One way or the other.

Driving home this evening, it was humid but not unpleasantly warm. A cool sticky breeze through the window of the car and the sun roof. Coming down Manatee Ave seems so much faster or a much better mover route. Once I make that turn onto 301 and the roadway begins to open up into country I love the lush green of everything during this rainy season. I don't want to miss a thing. The cattle in the big and little feed, all bunched around together and enjoying the cool damp earth. The assorted birds on the side of the roadway, and then, the bakery and the blast of fresh baked bread blending with the smells of the green lush roadside...ahhhhhh....and then, today, the light was green at University to go all the way through the graduated roadway curve that I love so much for the engineering correctness and fineness. Good job.

Home again home again Jiggiddy Jig...good evening family!! Tired, shower is good. Tired from work and works issues. Still I plod on not knowing what to do other than to trust God...And cook.

A pedicurian delight!!

It was time. It was past time. A Pedicure was needed badly by feet that stand for hours at a time on a quarry tile floor in a commercial kitchen.

I never experienced a pedicure until two or three years ago when I had my first. It was one of the best things I've ever done for myself, discovering the joys of spa pedicure. I now try to go on a regular or semi-regular basis.

Finding the best pedicure was my challenge. I'm willing to pay, but I want it right. Use that dremel tool...massage those legs and feet...please!!!

I found Happy Nails in Sarasota by accident. Actually there are two within minutes of each other. The first one I went in was understaffed and there was a wait. It smelled bad in there and I left rather than sit and wait. The girls looked depressed and the owner stressed.

Happy Nails part two was a totally different story. A light bright cheerful place, well staffed with happy women! No wait, I flopped in the spa chair and Ven, my technician, hooked me up with the massage features. She then proceeded to give me the best pedicure I've ever had!! She used the dremel to smooth my nasty nails, clipped skin around my toes and cuticles, expertly massaged my legs up to my knees then my feet until the too much lotion was gone. Heaven. All along, singing softly in Vietnamese along with another girl. I thought I was in heaven. The only thing missing was some food or wine to go along with the wonderful experience.

I thought about these girls; where did they come from? Are they happy with their lives here? I don't know how happy I'd be touching strangers feet all day, but they seem to care about what they do.

I wish the best for these women. I am happy with the results and will return to Happy Feet again, because, my feet ARE HAPPY!

Life in a restaurant...

So, I have this blogspot that I've not been writing on, but now...it's time.

So, what do I say? Dear Diary???

Here I am, sixty years old, working as a kitchen manager in a too long financially failing restaurant on a beautiful island on the Southwest coast of Florida. I've been in this job for over four years and have observed myself gradually working into a self taught management position. I have had no mentors, save one.

Long ago, in another place and time, I worked in DownEast Maine, with a female chef of world class, from North Boston. I am thoroughly amazed, on an almost daily basis, how much I actually learned from her, working at her side for three seasons. I have no regrets. I paid attention and I learned. Maybe I wish I had asked more questions than always relying on my own 'poke and hope' style of learning. Observation...but, what I've learned has followed me always since then.

At any rate, back to the present. My beloved RR tenure that I cut my managerial teeth on, is over for the North end of Anna Maria. The restaurant has been sold and will shortly close for renovations, including new kitchen gear which will require relearning how to cook with finesse since the burners, ovens and the like, will be new and working properly. How does one hang up the camping hat and put on the real live cook one? I am nervous about this change of hands. I've been around restaurants for many years and again, through observation, have compiled my own list of do's and do nots if I were to have my own business. As we progress into new ideas, new ownership, new management, I see a lot of DO NOTS starting to pile up more and more each day. We seem to be going from one old set of DO NOTS to a new set of "Oh no, this is not gonna be good..."

I'm all for people owning restaurants who have never been part of The Life, but I also hope to God on a regular basis that they would surround themselves with people in the industry who are fully learned and informed on running this type of business and who have themselves, come up through the ranks understanding fully what exactly it means to work a line without a break, shoving out endless covers, hopping on a fryer during a Friday night 'all you can eat' fish service. Get a little taste for the industry. Get a little taste for the trials and tribulations of working with people who are underpaid and overworked. Slam a rack of dishes through the dishwasher while trying to keep a detergent level acceptable since being unable to purchase the proper product for the machine due to checks bouncing. Work with those same underpaid folks who have had their checks bounce...good reward for whatever service they are able to provide due to low esteem and check cashing worries...

Listen to the head of the kitchen who has worked with every lowlife to come down the pike, when she says the resume is unacceptable because I can't check references. Two 1 year references of places closed...

Now, I've been reading a lot of Anthony Bourdain lately and I see myself, I see a sort of validation in what we do for a living, how we do it, and with whom we do it with. Obviously, I am not a CIA graduate nor do I in any way, consider myself a 'chef.' I can justify the title IF I put the french translation into play, meaning, Chief of Kitchen. Okay, I am the chief of the kitchen, the Captain, if you will, of this ship. Fancy high falutin' chef, No.

Tony says, 37 is the age of retirement or should be, for a line cook. I am 60. I have no book tours, no travel shows, no anything to make money for myself other than to show up at my job every day and give 100% and more. I am wearing the scars of a 'too old line cook.' I have a pesky fungus in my system which shows itself on my hands ever so slightly, from years of dipping my hands in a bleach bucket for sanitation. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, I have too many muscle spasms and charlie horses from hours upon hours of standing on my feet on a quarry tile floor. My stress level is through the roof from years of inferior help, troubled help, help that can't or won't learn the way of the kitchen, the endless parade of junkies, wierdos, drunks, whiners...The stress of trying to not sock the boss with a big order and balencing it all out to go easy on his checkbook in order to insure a paycheck on payday...The stress of trying to shove out up to 300 covers a day in season, or more, with inadequate equipment; ovens that don't work, or only work when you lay on the ground and attempt to light them for a time, shortage of containers, labels, buckets, pots, pans, and yet, making it work and putting out beautiful food in spite of all this.

The opportunity is presenting itself to change. New stuff, new challenges, and yet, I sense a 'status quo' coming about. I don't like how I feel. I don't want to do any more 'tricks.' I just want to cook. How do I just cook at sixty? How do I get back into the humpin' humming slammin' line magic if it will never come back again? I am not an Old 60 but I am a tired 60. Tired of bullshit, tired of one expert after another making decisions that are poor ones. How do I make my statement without alienating people? How do I get a slug to start caring about the job they do in kitchen work that they're supposed to feel something about? How do I not get angry at some dumb ass culinary school graduate that can't seem to learn simple procedure? How do I explain to a new owner that I really really really know what I'm doing back there and if you just give me the tools to do my job and trust me just a little, I won't let you down? How do I find a job that I can do what I love then go home and float in the pool without the phone endlessly ringing?