CHAMPAGNE WISHES AND BAKERY DREAMS

For the past few years I've had a dream of wanting to work in a bakery in Brooklyn. It's one of those silly dreams that pops in my head now and again when my day to day office routine gets the best of me. My vision is a hard working one. Long hours but with a purpose. After all, nothing screams success like a fresh tray of hot cross buns.

Like most dreams however I'm aware the vision is not the reality. I know from experience. In junior high at the age of fourteen, I had plans to spend my summer eating popsicles, listening to Milli Vanilli, watching MTV and working on my tan. Instead my parents 'ruined my life' by telling me I had to get a summer job.

I grew up in a small Long Island town. My choices for employment were limited. The gas station. 7-11. The video store. The Shirt Shack. The bakery. I opted for the bakery owned by a French man who was known to take in ex-carnies that passed through town for employment. The summer was spent sweeping and mopping up floors full of flour and dealing with annoying weekenders that said things to me like, "Miss...can you speed it up? We need to drive back to the New York city. That's far from here."

I ended up writing my college essay about my experience working there. The material is so rich and the characters I couldn't have made up if I tried.

REALITY CHECK PLEASE

Why are people so annoying when they go to restaurants? I don't care if you are cool or nice or considerate in the real, non-restaurant world chances are even you, YOU are annoying when you go to a restaurant.

I went out to lunch recently and was reminded of the horror that is people that go to restaurants. I was a waitress. I know what it's like. People come in, you show them to their seat. You say something polite like, "It will just be a moment. Let me wipe down your table. I'll be right back." And then without fail, EVERY time...the customer says the same thing,

"Excuse me miss? Can you bring back some utensils? Thanks."

Utensils. Huh. U...t..e..nsils...OH UTENSILS! Thank you for reminding me. Utensils. Totally slipped my mind. Totally.

WHAT IT'S LIKE TO DATE ME

You'll come home after a long day of work with two bags in your hand containing beer and wheat bread. I'll jump up from the couch and say, "I'll make you dinner!" and grab the crunchy peanut butter, blackberry jam (PBJ), some pickles from the fridge, heat up some lentil soup take out from the other night and crack open one of your beers and say, "Dinner is ready!" pretending to be a good wife.

GOT MILK?

Over the weekend I wasn't feeling 100%. I felt on the verge of a cold and just overall pretty run down. I went to bed Saturday night and literally slept 12 hours. When I awoke on Sunday I was still half asleep and stumbled my way into the kitchen followed by a meowing Jane the orange tabby cat at my heels.

BTW-What is the deal with cats? They act like they are DYING of starvation the minute you wake up. Jane followed me meowing MEOWING crying and jumping up on the fridge door as in 'why do you never feeeeeeeeed me' and then rolled on her back - left to right and left to right until I stepped over her to make myself a bowl of cereal.

I poured the cereal in a bowl and then went to reach for the milk from the fridge when all of the sudden the carton slipped out of my hand. Instead of letting it fall to the ground I made a desperate spaz move to grab it making the carton instead fly up in the air -literally fly into the air as if I had tossed it - and five giant GLUG GLUG GLUGs later milk was EVERYWHERE. What the...

Milk was in my hair, on my face, my eyelashes, on my T-shirt, all over the fridge, toaster oven, the kitchen wall, the floor etc. I heard a sad little meow and looked down to see that Jane was covered with white milk from head to toe.

Cats are not kids. You don't throw a cat in a bath and wash them off or do you? I didn't know so I took her in the bathroom, put her in the tub and then wet a towel and wiped her off. She looked far from pleased. I only wish I thought to get out my camera.

Then what? I don't know. I've only had two cats in my life. Let her dry off on her own? What if she gets a cold? Do cats get colds? I took out the hair dryer and put it on low. She actually didn't seem to mind it especially with a handful of treats to keep her busy. I couldn't quite get her 'style' back to normal. Her head still felt crusty with milk and it was a little spiky looking. I decided to see if she could clean it off herself later and take it from there.

Then...as if this blog entry wasn't exciting enough...

Our washing machine is broken. I've been stuffing our dirty laundry into rolling suitcases to take them over to the laundromat because we only have one duffle bag big enough. Plus I just like to pretend E is a sailor coming home from sea when he walks through the door with that bag over his shoulder.

Instead I get a call:

E: Hi
K: Hi honey. Where are ya? (middle of the day)
E: BUBBLES laundromat
K: Oh dear
E: Yeah. Remember that TOWEL you used to wipe up the milk
K: Ah...yeah
E: And then stuffed in the wheeling suitcase with everything else
K: Ah...yeah
E: Well I had to literally REMOVE it from the premises of Bubbles laundromat
K: Oops
E: It smelled like farts
K: Sorry
E: I went home to wash it in the tub and then brought it back to wash it
K: Husband of the year
E: Yeah
K: How can I pay you back?
E: How about some beer

Men and beer. Sometimes it is that simple.