Connecting the Dots

From as far back as I can remember, I've always had a different way of getting the job done.  Didn't really matter what the task at hand was, nor was I really trying to do it differently from everyone else, but I couldn't help it...  The earliest memory of this 'do it yourself' attitude, probably goes back to when I first started kindergarten.  

We were introduced to those "connect the dots" assignments; you know, the ones where the dots are numbered and you follow each one with your crayon or pencil until you reach the end and reveal some kind of animal, vehicle or other basic shape? Yeah, well, apparently I even did that... eh, differently. 

The teacher (bless her heart) stood over my right shoulder and studied my methodology.  I held my pencil steadily in my right hand, without moving an inch.  Then with my left hand, I guided the paper from dot to dot... So I was still completing the picture, just not the way everyone else was.  

"No, no sweetie, move your right hand to connect the dots, not the paper..." 

What's the problem lady? As long as I get it done, why do you care how I did it? Jeeesh!

And so began my plight with formalized education. See, I realized that I do NOT possess that brain cell that is the most adept to short cuts, or common sense...  In fact when I see these types of people who bust out crazy one handed, multi-tasking trickery, I stop and stare as if they are a magician. If left to my own devices, I oftentimes take a more creative, outside the box approach.  But if you put a book in front of me and say, 'study the history of the universe,' I will...

Which leads me to the much dreaded/feared U.S. constitution exam in the eleventh grade.  It was legendary and 'impossible.'  Or so everyone thought.  But I, the weirdo, locked myself in the basement of my house with flash cards, highlighters and way too much candy, and didn't come out for almost four days.  I went to school, took a deep breath, and was the last person to finish the exam. 

By the next class, everyone protested that test.  It wasn't fair.  It was too hard. They all failed miserably...  Then the teacher said, "Well I know for a fact it was possible to pass this test, if you all had studied the material. Because there is one student in this class who not only passed, but she got an A."  He looked at me and I immediately slid down into my chair.  When he held up my exam to class and then walked over to my chair, he set it down in front of me with the most subtle grin I'd ever seen; "Well done. Very well done." 

Oh God, it's going to be a mutiny.  You should have seen the way those kids looked at me; like, 'thanks a lot bitch.' 

My score completely blew their collective protests right out of the water.  There was one other girl in the class who passed and she looked at me like we were the most awesome geeks ever!!  She actually was kinda nerdy though, so I knew she was loving every second of this academic torture.  

I had ruined it for the rest of the class.  But you know what? I'm glad.  It kind of made me feel like a super hero or something.  Because the memory of being "corrected" that day in kindergarten for the way I had completed the assignment always bothered me.  I remember feeling so confused and embarrassed.  I didn't understand why I had to be called out for the way I was connecting the dots.  Especially since the end result was still the same... 

And if my way was harder, why not let me figure it out on my own?  Oh gosh, I can't help but laugh at the image of my pint sized self, moving the paper around and not my right hand... Awww... Bless my heart.  

Those two scholastic memories are obviously the ones that made a huge impact on me.  I learned from a very early age that I might have a different way of doing things... not exactly wrong... just different. And that one day, doing things my way, would pay off in the long run.  

I think there are probably a million ways to connect the dots in life.  It may not be the most obvious or standard approach.  But it's not only okay to be different, it may just be the very thing that separates you from the rest of the class.  And that's not such a bad thing after all.  

I suppose I just need to remind myself every now and then of that girl who has managed to get by just fine by connecting the dots in her very own, unique way.  Who knows what that picture will be? Maybe, when I connect that last dot, what I will see, is just me... 

Or an A+... yeah, that would be okay too. 

Today:

Teacher's Pet

1 1/2 oz Blended Whiskey

1/2 oz Dry Vermouth

1 Tsp. Sweet Vermouth

2 dashes of Bitters

Stir on the Rocks

Garnish with a cherry and orange

Rage Against the Mean-Machine

From the moment we are first thrust into social interactions we are tested: preschool, birthday parties, school plays, dance recitals and team sports all evaluate, in one aspect or another, your overall ability to play well with others.  Think about it.  Our ability to tolerate one another has been a struggle from the get-go. 

Like in kindergarten, when we put on our school play, I was forced to be one of the clowns.  All of the other really cool parts were already assigned.  There was a tiger tamer and his three tigers, gymnasts with their really cool tights and spandex, a ring master, and us stupid clowns.  I hate clowns! They are freaky: from their bad clothes and to even worse hair.  

But what could I do?  When we began rehearsing, I would look around at the other groups and study their moves.   The tigers were being tamed, the gymnasts were very balanced and us clowns, well... we were completely out of control.

What a minute; we get to shoot the crowd with squirt guns while running amuck on our stick-ponies?? THIS IS AWESOME!  

And it was.  I would very much like to think that we were the hit of the circus.  Everyone laughed and cheered at us yahoos, who completely stole the show.  And I realized two very important things that day: you have to make the best of whatever role you play in life and never underestimate the importance of making someone smile.  Squirt gun or not, it felt good to know that I was making so many people laugh.

There are a hundred more examples where that came from.  It didn't take very long to figure out that things rarely turn out according to your initial plan.  And yes, many times it is also unfair.  That's life.  We are often thrust into roles we didn't exactly choose or desire.  We are also constantly living in relation to others.  These two challenges often test our patience, as well as our tolerance. 

I believe that it is perfectly understandable to experience moments of rage.  Road-rage for instance, is something I can certainly identify with.  Hostile caravans of out of control children tossing french fries from their windows, while mom is inches shy of kissing your bumper.  And the multi-tasking teenager who manages to swerve (somewhat) within her lane while texting, snacking, primping and yes, smoking.  Sure... I feel moments of rage too.  

But what enrages me the most to be perfectly honest, is meanness.  Being a mean person is infectious to the world and is also completely unnecessary.  While it is understandable to have moments of anger, it is really not warranted to express that emotion in a mean way.  

For example, if you are frustrated that there isn't enough parking and you have to wait for a long period of time, okay: you can be frustrated.  But if you take that frustration and call someone a "Donkey's Ass" then two things will happen:  no one will want to help you and no one will tolerate you.  Because that is just mean.  

Meanness serves no one: especially the person it infects.  I believe that half of the violence on this earth comes from a place of meanness: and I am enraged.  People get angry.  Anger breeds contempt.  And contempt often leads to destruction.  

While I know that it is impossible to cure the myriad of factors that promote anger, I do hope to promote in some small way, more laughter.  Don't worry, I've hung up that squirt gun long ago.  But, I am still very much a silly clown at heart, all these years later.   

Anger can promote passion.  Take a stand to make a change.  If you have passion in your heart, then perhaps you might also foster compassion as well.  I think compassion speaks louder than hate.  And I believe rage can serve society, if it fuels a common good.  

Enraged by GMO's, littering, oil spills, endangered species, hunger, dwindling resources, education, deforestation, over-fishing, gun control, shootings, bombings and threats of all kinds?  It's okay to be angry.  But, hate begets hate.  And the ends, rarely justify the means.

You don't have to be a meanie to be heard.  Just smile, take a breath, and say what you mean instead.  

Cheer up and try to play well with others today. 

Today:

Smile Cocktail

1 oz Gin

1 oz Grenadine

1/2 oz lemon juice

Shake and strain up in a martini glass

Click for this and other recipes

Photo Credit: tallskinnykiwi.typepad.com

Back to the Basics

Indulge me.  I want you to close your eyes for a moment and think back to when you were a little kid. Imagine you wanted something: candy, soda-pop, ice cream, a pony, a trip to the zoo... You get the picture. Okay, now imagine further.  How did you ask for whatever it was that you wanted?  I would venture to guess that if you grunted out one-word nouns and ape-like demands, you probably didn't get very far with your request.

I can only speak from my own personal experience of course, but I can assure you that my parents certainly did not raise me to just spurt out orders like a miniature drill sergeant to whomever I pleased. No sir. 

It is absolutely astonishing how many people bark out orders, rather than simply asking politely.  Now I know that I usually promote a sense of unity in my everyday existence; a positive, optimistic and hopeful perspective to be sure.  But there are just some days... it's really difficult to keep it going. 

I have preached numerous times about the importance of hospitality, of good service, of gratitude and I truly believe in all of that.  But after a few dozen times of having people spew out one word commands to me all night, I can't help but want to level the playing field a bit here. It is degrading to be spoken to like a little house dog: sit, stay, speak, roll over, refill, refill, refill, Bud Light, water, napkin, cup of ice, etc.

If I were to command anything from my parents in a one-word short order, they would have promptly instructed a more civilized approach to getting my needs met.  You know,  back to the basics: a simple may I please, and thank you so much.  

Simple etiquette is a scarcity these days.  I have witnessed the shortage first-hand and sadly, it is not solely a deficit in our younger generations.  The unfortunate reality is that so many adults are setting a poor example for their children by failing to incorporate a basic "please" and "thank you" in their everyday lives.  It's very sad to me, but it is also infuriating.  I don't believe anyone enjoys being spoken to that way. 

Although I do not have to go quite as far out of my way to be as friendly and polite as I tend to be, it is just how I choose to represent myself.  The basics are very important to me.  They are what separate us from the animals, the cave-men, the ignorant, the oppressive, and so on.  Courtesy, humility and appreciation are not lost on me.  

These simple exchanges are really quite basic, but have the most wonderful effects.  The truth is, I am affected deeply by the interactions I have with my fellow man.  Furthermore, I am keenly aware of how much I affect your overall experiences too.  

It's a bit of a long-shot; I know I may not change the world today by promoting the most basic plight of civilized human interaction, but with a hope, a prayer and a smile, I just might help change our tomorrow.

Today:  

Flaming Gorilla Cocktail

1 part high proof Rum

1 part Peppermint Schnapps

1 part Coffee Liqueur (Tia Maria or Kahlua)

Layer and build and light on fire for 15 seconds in a shot glass. And have a nice day... 

For this and other great recipes click here.

Mid-Summer Nightmare

I was racing, rushing and frantic.  The tickets were pouring out: three Key Lime Martinis, four Blueberry Mojitos, six Rum Runners and so on. I was tearing the tickets and throwing down drinks as fast as possible, but it just wasn't nearly fast enough.  To make matters worse, a woman with a dominant figure and obtrusive posture stood over my shoulder; watching and waiting.

She was studying my every move: my pours, the way I mixed and muddled.  Her ominous presence was similar to that of the Grim Reaper.  Like some dark, shadowy threat, she waited for me to slip up.  But then I looked up for a moment from behind the bar and realized where I was: I was on a film set.

Cast and crew scurried about from one side to another, dragging along lights, ropes, tripods and props.  Then a hand slammed down on the bar, wide-open and urgent.  Back to work  I told myself.  This was some twisted nightmare.  On the one hand, it felt like a sweet dream: feeling a pull to join the cast and crew on set.  I knew I could be a huge asset to the production and it felt so right to be there.  On the other hand: what a sick nightmare!  It was like a cruel joke, to still be behind a bar, serving drinks to all the people who were doing what I wanted to be doing for a living!!

I woke up this morning with a stomach cramp.  Ugh, that was a strange dream. It was like my subconscious was shouting out a glaring reminder of what my future could look like if I didn't keep trying to pursue my dreams: my everyday dreams.

I have heard of many other people having a serving nightmare. Through the years working in restaurants, it is a common occurrence. Did the order come out wrong again!? I'm so in the weeds! It's the horrible feeling of never being able to catch up.  And it's not a fun thing to dream about after already exhausted from a long night at work.

But are these server nightmares actually serving a purpose?

I'm beginning to think that they do.  Most people I have encountered throughout the past few years of working in the service industry were all pursuing something else.  They had various dreams: musicians, police officers, teachers, writers, artists, massage therapists, actors and so on. And waiting tables was what they were doing while they waited for their various ships to come in.

Maybe these nightmares are in fact serving our dreams in some way.  Keep going. Keep moving. Work smarter and harder. And don't let the haunting and anxious visions of your dreams become your lifelong reality.

I imagine that when I am doing what I am passionate about, I will have nightmares about that too.  I suppose when you work really hard at anything, you get a little obsessed.  But nightmares can push you closer to your dreams, if you are able to sleep through the night.

I'm curious. Do you have nightmares about your job too? Do they serve you?  Or are they just a cruel reminder of the threat of failure? Perhaps both? What do you think?

Today:

Dark and Stormy

Gosling's Black Seal Rum
Ginger Beer
Served on the rocks in a highball glass

SPECTRUMS

When I was a little kid, even before I had all my grown up teeth, I believed in love. In the most innocent way, wide-eyed and naïve… I believed. 

But then in the third grade, I learned a hard lesson.  There was a boy in school who was often picked on by other kids.  He was a little awkward sure, but that is no reason to tease the poor guy.  So I decided, much like a super hero would, that I could fix it.  I was popular in school and got along with everyone. I imagined that somehow, people would treat him better if they associated us to be friends. So, I began to say hi to him everyday in class. I would make jokes with him and trade snacks from our sack lunches.  Before I knew it, everyone was noticing.  And it felt good.

Then one day, this boy came to school with a bunch of yellow daffodils that were wrapped in a damp paper towel and crinkled foil.  He asked me to be his girlfriend.  It was a truly awful moment. I thought, Oh God what have I done?  All this time, I was just trying to give the guy a break and now he wanted more than I had ever intended. 

Well, I thought that the kindest thing to do was to accept his offer.  I went home that afternoon with the sinking feeling in my stomach that this wasn’t going to work out very well.  When my dad got home from the office that night I decided to discuss the situation with him.  My dad was the smartest guy I knew and at the very least, I thought he would be really proud of me for being such a nice girl. 

I explained the situation to him. Then my dad took a long pause and finally said, “Honey, it’s nice that you wanted to include him and make him feel special, but you shouldn’t be someone’s girlfriend just because you feel sorry for him.”

Oh crap.  I knew what I had to do.  The very next day, I broke up with him.  I was nice about it, and probably said something like, it’s not you it’s me.

From that day on, people were a little nicer to him, but not completely.  And I realized that this whole business of love was actually pretty complicated.  I just wanted people to be nicer to him and somehow, in the end, I fear that I may have hurt his feelings far more than anyone else had. Furthermore, I realized that I put myself into a very awkward situation simply out of the desire to manage how other people treated this boy.

Some time has passed since the third grade; I am a big girl now with all of my grown up teeth. I am not quite as wide-eyed and naive as I was back then.  But I still believe in love.

See, it was from a place of love that I sought to help this boy gain acceptance from our peers.  I thought I could make his world a better place by treating him equally. 

Maybe the entire situation didn’t unfold exactly as I had hoped it would.  But I did learn a little something about creating a healthy relationship with myself as well as with others and how important it is to protect and create personal boundaries.

But just as important as it is to protect your heart, it is probably equally, if not more important, to figure out how to keep it open.

I love people: the whole spectrum.  And it is unfortunate that so many people are picked on throughout the course of their entire lives. Most of the time, they are picked on for being different. But are we not all very different??

I cannot pretend to know or understand what it is like to walk in your shoes. And you cannot possibly pretend to know all the quirks and kinks in my laces either.  But if you try to keep an open mind, and an open heart, you may be lucky enough to have a full spectrum of love in your life.  Love in Technicolor and an entire treasury of friends.  

Today:

Raspberry Lemonade

Stoli Razz 

Lemonade 

Build on the rocks.

 DANCE TO THIS SONG!! IT'S SO GOOD...
Safe and Sound by Capital Cities

Knee Jerks

When a little child gets upset, you'd better be ready for it. The temper tantrums of toddlers can be epic. They will scream, sob and throw themselves to the ground in what appears to be nothing short of agony.  I have witnessed this firsthand while perusing through the aisles of the grocery store.  But what is even worse than a two year old throwing a temper tantrum? It is when a seemingly mature adult reacts without thinking.  This phenomenon is called a "Knee-jerk reaction."

You've all had a physical right? It's that dreaded routine check-up where the doctor gives you a thorough once-over.  My least favorite moment, aside from every other moment in between, is when he thumps your knee at just the right angle with that miniature sized hammer, prompting an involuntary muscle movement (i.e. a knee-jerk reaction).

Much like how our physical bodies react without thinking, so too can our emotions. This can be a very dangerous thing. All sorts of horrific occurrences in life can often be traced back to the moment a person, or even whole groups of people react. But we all know this much is true as well, that what goes up must come down, and that for every action, there is a reaction.  It is a ripple effect... and sometimes, a tidal wave.

Yesterday proved to be an interesting day for my brother.  The day began like any other, relaxed and contemplative over a cup of coffee. He was scrolling through the various daily news articles online when he received an email from a former business colleague.  In short, the email alerted my brother to several slandering social media posts that a certain person was writing all over various communities of cyber-space.  It was extremely unnerving.

The individual was accusing him of not paying for a service rendered, that he had in fact paid for. It was an aggressive attack on his reputation in this very small town.  The person not only wrote on their own social media walls about what a bleep bleeping bleep they thought he was, but they also went to his former place of business and left really accusatory comments there as well.

He was furious.  He went to the individual's place of employment and spoke with the owner of the business. When they were discussing what had happened, it was actually the person who was slandering my brother  who entered the payment information incorrectly to begin with!  I highly doubt the person will admit to that error on all the many public forums where so many negative posts were made. It is unfortunate.

And yet, what is fortunate is to behave with a certain measure of respectability.  Thankfully, my brother is not the type of guy who sets out on vengeful quests or gives in to knee-Jerks.  That would be even worse.  One misunderstanding can lead to five and then to fifteen.  Before you know it, that little ripple in the pond now has the force of a thousand waves behind it, destroying everything that was built on seemingly safe shores.

We are all guilty of being a bit of a knee-jerk from time to time.  I have certainly had my fair share of flip-outs, freak-outs and knee-jerks. No one is perfect. But how we handle the aftermath, the clean-up of these destructive waves, can be what makes the difference in our communities. Can we admit when we were wrong? Can we admit we acted poorly when we felt wronged? Are we able to slow down and think before we act? Or are we content to be a bunch of volatile time-bombs, reacting on a hair-pin trigger?

My hope is that we all try to get along.  Or in the very least, throw a life line to those who got swept away by the surging effects of the storm.  In the millisecond before you react, try to remember your true nature, our imperfect nature, and act like a good human being.

Today:

Lifesaver Cocktail

1oz Midori Melon Liquor 
1oz Bacardi Lt. Rum
Splash of Pineapple juice
Stir and strain 
Can be served up or on the rocks.