It's a Wonderful Life

Have you ever accidentally overheard people talking about you when they thought you weren't in close enough proximity to actually hear their words? Let me ask you something; did you like what you heard? Or were you in fact, horrified by their misguided and half-baked assessments?

The other day, I was at a little holiday party amongst a few of my co-workers.  Still relatively new to New York, I figured I ought to go to the party and socialize a bit.  When I got up from the table to find the restroom, I overheard some people suddenly begin to talk about me almost instantaneously.  The craziest thing was, they couldn't have been further from the truth... or my perception of it anyway.

I left the party shortly thereafter.  And as I slowly walked home, playing back the words and drunken assessments of others, I suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sinking disappointment.  I felt a little silly for caring so much.  But the truth is, I went to the party having an open mind about the people I was hoping to get to know, only to discover that a few of them had already made their minds up about me a while ago.

It is an unfortunate aspect of human nature: making snap judgements and at-a-glance presumptions without ever considering all the facts.

It was the night before Christmas Eve.  The cards had been stacking up against me for weeks.  And that experience at the party was enough to send me right over the edge.  But then, I got to thinking...

I may not ever understand how other people perceive me, or worse, how they arrived at their short-sighted conclusions in the first place. But ultimately, what I realized, is that in the long run, it doesn't matter.  

The big picture here, what matters, is how you see yourself.  From there, so much is possible.  

For a long time, how I saw myself wasn't entirely fair or very accurate. It was a similarly short sighted perspective, derived from a skewed perspective of my own reality.

And after thirty years of living life, following my heart and taking chances, I've come to appreciate the person I see today.

I am not a victim or a 'survivor'.  I am simply a human being who has made a zillion decisions over the past three decades that have all, in one way or another, shaped my experience on this planet in such a fashion that I am able to see the world and function within it, the only way I know how: with intense sensitivity and emotional awareness.

I think the lesson here is pretty simple; we are all the authors of our own story.  We have no idea what someone else is going through, which means that our assessments of ourselves and others is probably not entirely accurate. But, if we can muster up the courage to own our choices, as well as their consequences, we may find a sense of peace that surpasses all understanding.

People will make presumptions about you and assign a simplified version of your character.  What can you do? That's life. That is, most often, a filtering mechanism or in the very least, lazy social skills.

I'm not perfect. I may have had a few hard knocks and tough blows along the way.  But I didn't just stumble accidentally through major life events unknowingly or without great thought or analysis.  This very moment is the product of every choice that preceded it.

It may not be exactly what I imagined or had planned, but that could very well be God directing me to greater experiences than I was ever capable of imaging.

As we approach the new year, I hope to challenge us all to consider that our snap judgements of others are not productive or necessarily fair.  Furthermore, they could also be quite hurtful. This holiday season, give someone the benefit of the doubt and you might be surprised. Let their truth be revealed in time with compassion and even a little bit of faith.  Apply this concept to how you see yourself... and you might wake up more comfortable in your skin than ever before. 


Today:

Smoke and Mirrors

1 1/2 oz of Single Malt Whiskey
1/2 oz Benedictine Liqueur 
1/2 oz Byrrh Aperitif 
Dash of Angostura Bitters

Stir and strain into a Coupe
Garnish with an orange zest

                           Wishing my friends and family health, happiness and love in the New Year. 

   

It's Not You, It's Me

One month ago, I arrived in New York; and ever since that first moment when my feet hit the long stretch of concrete, my mind has been a complete mess of muddled mush.

Imagine the fastest, highest, wildest roller coaster ride you've ever been on in your life.  The world around you flashes by in an instant.  Strands of hair whip you across your face, whether it's your own hair or the person sitting next to you.  You have no idea what has possessed you to stand in line for what feels like an eternity, only to get whipped in the face, jerked from side to side and nearly losing your lunch.  

You step off the roller coaster and have absolutely no recollection of what you saw as you were being hurled through the air along the winding track, but you are fairly certain it was amazing because it felt amazing.  My friends, that is the only way I know how to describe the past four weeks of my life in New York City. 

Each day has been a surprise, an exercise, a conflict, a challenge, an enlightenment.  

I have felt happy, intimidated, courageous, lonely, afflicted, creative, tired, observant and every now and then: defeated.  

Every moment has demanded some measure of concentration: even if only to close my eyes and try to let go of the events of the given day.  In this city, while working full time at a new job and still living out of two suitcases, even the seemingly simple and natural act of sleeping requires a concentrated effort.  

My writing had been set aside these past few weeks, as I opted to take in what I saw, rather than share it with the world as I had been this past summer.  

The lack of stability and familiarity has burdened my thoughts and mind in such a way that is difficult to articulate.  And as I sat on the shore of the East River along Brooklyn's busy borough, I wondered; Am I happy?

And much like the meager attempt to enjoy the view from a speeding roller coaster, I began to see happiness in a similarly blurred and mysterious way.  I had ventured out of Manhattan in an effort to see the sunset; something that is very difficult to do in an otherwise completely vertical city. And as I sat there gazing across the river, I began to laugh a little as the sun sank behind the entire island of Manhattan, still blocked by the skyscrapers that line the entire radius of the city.

It was funny, because in that moment, I realized how much effort it is going to take to survive here.

Am I happy here?  Was I really ever happy anywhere?

For short stints of time, yes, I felt happy.  Skipping around from place to place trying to outrun, outsmart, outmaneuver myself.  But time and time again, the void followed.

And now, as I sit at my computer and finally bring myself back to my writing, I realize that the void is not where I reside, but rather what has always been residing within me.

It is terrifying to finally understand that I need to face my fears, and hopefully believe in myself enough to follow my dreams.

New York City is only the backdrop of this story I have decided to share with you.  And I will tell you this much; it is a character all its own.

Today:

Peach Bellini

Fresh Peach puree
Glass of Prosecco

A Case of Cold Feet

You can be sure it is going to be a rather stressful day when every thought that crosses your mind upon waking ends with a question mark.  

When am I going to come back from NYC? When am I going to see my dogs again? Will they miss me when I am traveling? Or will they forget all about me?? Where will I get a job? If I get a job, will I end up staying through the winter in New York? Or will I go back to California in January? How long before my funds run out? Am I making the wrong choice? Is this a crazy plan? What if...? Where to...?  How much...???? When??? Why??? How??? Where??? 

I have to tell you, this is not a great way to start out the morning.  I sat in bed for nearly an hour as these questions ran through my mind; similar to the way the numbers on the stock market ticker race by with endless flux. 

And I couldn't help but ask myself one last question before getting out of bed: 'Am I getting cold feet?'  

I've had months to plan this excursion.  I have had ample time to carefully deconstruct every nagging fear or question.  And yet, out of nowhere, I am suddenly overcome with nerves.  

With nearly one week left to go before my impending journey, I feel more anxious than ever about taking this trip.  I know it is going to be such a good thing for me to experience, but the weight of the unknowns is a heavy burden to lug around... along with my huge suitcases. 

All these questions simply cannot be answered until I get there.  

And so, with that in mind, I am trying to look at it as a long vacation...  I have no clue what I will want to do after I arrive.  I am not sure if staying for more than a month or two will pan out.  But how can I know? I simply can't from where I sit right now.  

I guess this is just how life goes.  You have to take some chances and just hope for the best.  We can't always have all the answers laid out perfectly before us on a silver tray, but we can do our best to handle whatever may come. 

I'm just going to have to double up on the socks and slippers this week, suck it up, take a deep breath, pack my yoga mat... and try to keep my feet roasty and toasty...

Getting all worked up over the many variables isn't really doing me any favors.  Time to live and let go.   Let go and let God.  The rest are just the details. And who needs them anyway? Oh shoot... another question mark! 

Guess my feet are still a little chilly after all. Oh well... Better just enjoy what I have right now in front of me; two warm little dogs who love nothing more than to make every moment count. They are the zen masters of living in the present moment. Their paws are always nice and warm. 

 Today:

Absolut Stress

1/2 oz Absolut Vodka

1/2 oz Malibu Rum

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps

Equal Parts Cranberry

Pineapple and Orange Juices

On the Rocks!

The Unfortunate Mouseacre

It's official; I'm traumatized. For the past few days, I have been engaged in an ongoing internal battle of ethics.  Do you suppose it is ethical to lay out poisonous traps throughout your garage/laundry/storage facility with every intention of wiping out any and all unsuspecting trespassing rodent species??  I used to believe that it was sadly a necessary part of life.  You have to protect your home from these pesky intruders, right?? Well, after the unfortunate mouseacre that I unknowingly participated in over the past few days, I'm just not so sure.

Perhaps to fully understand the gravity of the situation, I probably ought to go back to the very beginning.

A few days ago, I went downstairs to the garage to do some laundry.  No big deal, just another ordinary day.  Until the moment I dropped a bunched up sock and it rolled behind the washing machine and landed right next to one very dead mouse.

The mouse had hacked up a small puddle of what I assumed to be something formerly internal... And I knew without a shadow of a doubt the cause of death: poison.

I was horrified.  But if that wasn't already bad enough, I glanced to the space next to the air conditioning unit and saw another dead mouse in a very similar state: dead as a doornail.

I shrugged it off after a few hours though, after convincing myself that this was just one more unfortunate aspect of survival on this planet.  Sometimes, you have to take out a few rats to protect what is rightfully yours.

But then, this theory was completely shot to shit yesterday upon revealing another gruesome discovery.  Mommy and Daddy mouse had left behind at least five little baby mice.  I noticed the babies after hearing a constant squeak/cry that persisted for hours upon hours.

They were so tiny.  Their eyes hadn't even opened.

I thought for sure that they had been infected with poison, as the two that were still alive were crying and writhing in a way that surely looked like a pain from their stomachs.  Well I was only partly correct.  The babies were not suffering from poison, but rather from starvation.  Who knows how long they had been sitting there, crying out for their mommy.

Well, basically, I couldn't stand it anymore.  So I decided to scoop them into a dish and put the last two survivors outside... to let nature takes its course.

And when I walked away and left them to the elements, I began to cry.  I know, I know... they are just mice!!! For goodness sake, they will grow up to destroy things and spread diseases...

But I honestly can't help myself.

I felt so bad; in one swoop, we had somehow managed to massacre an entire rodent nuclear family.

And so, after I shed a few tears and pleaded for forgiveness from these helpless infant mice, I made a decision... to be a vegetarian...

I'm sorry, but I'm just not cut out to kill anything that has whiskers, fur and snuggles their siblings... I'm just not up for the job.

So I guess, ultimately, the sacrifice of these mice may have saved one less cow from ending up on the grill.

Oh who am I kidding?? Probably not... 

But at least not for me.  Salad for dinner.

Today:

Madras

1 oz Vodka
Equal Parts Orange Juice 
and Cranberry Juice

On the rocks.

Something Out of Nothing

Guess what I am doing at this very moment? (Que Jeopardy music for a ten second pause.) Did you guess blogging?? Well duh.  Aside from the obvious answer, I am actually sitting in a Little Caesar's Pizzeria enjoying my very own large plain cheese.  I am a girl on a budget remember??

In a last ditch effort to shake the money tree, I have gotten fairly... ummmm -----.  Not desperate! No, no... CREATIVE!!  Yes, let's call it creative.

I rounded up about ten years worth of winter jackets, skin tight blue jeans, boots, wedges and host of other miscellaneous accessories and hauled them off to a resale clothing store.  They estimated that the sorting process would take roughly forty-five minutes and so I decided to kill a few birds with one stone.  Eat some lunch, write my blog and hopefully, turn a decades worth of laundry into some cold hard cash.

Let me tell you something folks; I'm getting really good at this part-time business of turning a little somethin' something out of a whole lot of nothing.  

Here's a few tips and tricks I have learned under the gun... or more specifically, a budget. 

1. Someone may actually pay you for those 6" high heels that were a complete mistake/impulse purchase.

2. Little Caesar's Pizza always sells "Hot 'n Ready" large pizzas for $5.00

3. If you want to insure that your $5.00 pizza is actually fresh, make sure to order a plain cheese pizza instead of the pepperoni.  They typically only have pepperonis sitting on stand by, and not plain cheese.  So if you have ten minutes to spare, then you will have a fresh large pizza right out of the oven for five bucks!

4. All that spare change stuck together in your vehicle's cup holders actually amount to something! And if you are patient, and can multitask while watching a movie, you can roll about six hundred pennies in about thirty minutes.  Well six bucks, may not seem like much, but it does buy you that large cheese pizza we were just talking about.

5. A smile and friendly small talk goes a long way.  (The lovely manager at the pizza shop threw in a free drink for me after I told her what a great job she was doing.)

Sometimes it really pays to get creative!!!

This summer I bought a brand new pair of running shoes, an airline ticket to NYC and a full tank of gas, all with the loose change I had stock piled around my apartment in jars, purses and yes, my car.

It just goes to show that you can make a little something out of what you may have thought was nothing.

So if you'll excuse me, I have to pack up the rest of this pizza and walk over to the resale shop and see how much all that loot has earned me!!!

Just one more small step on this road to the big city.

Count your pennies and your blessings!!!! And by all means, get creative!


Today:

Woo Woo

1 1/2 oz Vodka
1 1/2 oz Peach Schnapps
3 oz Cranberry juice
on the rocks!

Another Man's Treasure

All week long I have been dreading the task of going to the Social Security Administration.  Can you blame me?  It has been my own personal experience that any government run institution is a royal pain in the ass; long lines, unruly and impatient children and an either boiling hot or freezing cold climate.  Almost sounds like a dreaded trip to the Verizon Wireless store eh? 

Well anyway.... I finally mustered up the strength to tackle this errand head on today.  Having been fully caffeinated and determined to accomplish this task, I set out armed an ready for a long and unpleasant afternoon.  

When I walked into the local Social Security office I was surprised.  It wasn't nearly as treacherous as I had anticipated.  In fact, I was only one of three people waiting in line. Thank you God.  

"Number twenty-one please, " the man from behind the window called.  That's my number!!! 

After answering a few basic questions, the man looked down at the paperwork and sighed.  I must have looked concerned because he almost immediately explained his long winded exhale.  He looked at my former address and revealed how much he absolutely loved Nashville, TN.  

Before I knew it, we were engulfed in a conversation that reminded me of my own affection for my former residence.  He asked me why I would leave such an amazing city; what had brought me here, and if I ever thought of going back.  

And over the following few seconds, my entire Nashville experience flashed before my eyes.  I thought of my apartment, my favorite hangouts, my wonderful friends and even a few unforgettable memories.  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat as I suddenly remembered where I was: in a government office about a week and a half away from heading off to New York City.  

I suddenly felt a sinking feeling that I had no idea if I would ever have a real reason to go back to Nashville.  Of course I have about a hundred great reasons to visit.  But the thought of actually moving back there one day, washed over me in complete bewilderment.  

I looked up at the man on the opposite side of the counter and gave him the most honest answer I could think of on the fly; "I would have to have a really good reason."

This guy was enamored with and determined to move to the very city I had just departed.  And I couldn't help but hope the best for him.  See, I loved Nashville. I still do.  Perhaps I always will. 

Nashville is the kind of city you can simply exist within without having too much pressure or strain. It is a simpler kind of life.  There is plenty of the world's greatest entertainment, delicious food and some genuinely nice folks.  It is the kind of city that doesn't require much from its inhabitants.  And to be perfectly honest, that was precisely my angst. 

I am not ready to sit idle in a city that allows me to do so with relative ease.  

Perhaps one day, when I am tired of meeting the demands of the world, I will go running back to the South just as fast as my feet can carry me. And living there, I will feel very little push and stress from the rat race.  That isn't such a bad picture; sitting on the front porch in my later years, sipping on a sweet tea.  

But the conversation did refresh my memory of all that I loved about Tennessee.  And oddly enough, the brief exchange between two complete strangers is exactly why Nashville is such a treasure; it brings out the neighborliness in people... even government officials.  

Today was the first pleasant and dare I say, painless, experience I have ever had while at a government run institution.  It was even more pleasant than a trip to the dentist, which is shocking because I pretty much hate having metal tools anywhere near my tonsils. 

It just goes to show that one man's past, just may be another man's treasure.  It is comforting to know that there are always more people lined up eagerly to experience things I have held so dear.  And maybe, one day, I will go back there and have another go 'round of Southern Hospitality.  

In the meantime, I am hungry.  And I think a Big Apple a day is just the medicine I've needed for a long time.  Well that, and a social security card.  

When I turned around, there was suddenly a very long line behind me.  And I couldn't help but smile as I walked out the door,  having accomplished more than what I bargained for in record time. 

Today:

Mint Julep

2 1/2 oz Bourbon

4-5 Mint Sprigs

1/2 oz Simple Syrup

Muddle Mint and Syrup in a collins glass and then

fill the glass with Bourbon.  Stir with crushed ice. 

 

  

  

 

Divided We Stand

I must say, last night's presidential address from the White House couldn't have come at a worse time.  And from what I gathered from his speech, it would seem as though that is the overwhelming consensus of our nation.  On the eve of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks that occurred over a decade ago, killing so many Americans, I couldn't help but sit and watch the address and cringe at the thought of yet another war.  

No matter which side of the debate you stand, you can't help but feel the weight of the September 2001 attacks.  It is as if the ashes and dust from the fallen two towers still waft and linger in the air: it just hasn't settled yet.  

For a moment, I almost imagined that I was seemingly the only one still greatly affected by that horrifying day.  How naive. 

I walked into a small market yesterday afternoon and overheard a few employees gathered around the register reminiscing the day that our country changed forever.  As is almost a cliche anymore, they asked one another a very common question;"Where were you?"  They each had a different story, but each person remembered that morning with absolute precision and clarity.  

And I couldn't help but remember too.  

I think what is so unfortunate all these years later, aside from the glaringly obvious loss of so many human beings no matter their nationality, is that we cannot seem to move past the climate of terror at home and abroad.  

I remember the thousands of posters and flags that were proudly displayed almost instantaneously after 9/11 and how so many boasted a common slogan of patriotism: 'United We Stand'. 

How far from that sentiment we are today.  We are a nation fiercely divided.  And as much as we bicker amongst ourselves and split hairs over the future of our country, it seems more apparent than ever before that we are at war, with each other.  

I really don't like to dwell on the negative.  In fact, most of the time I am hard pressed against taking jabs at the "other side."  I'm just not a fan of political satire, because at the heart of almost everything comical in life, is a deeply rooted undercurrent of heartbreak and disjointed, opposing ideals.  Kind of like a comedian who pokes fun at the most depressing aspects of humanity.  We are divided.  

And I am not sure how to begin working to close that divide.  I may not agree with everything that is happening in our country, but who is??? Can everyone be satisfied? When has it ever been possible to make everyone happy?? 

Perhaps the only thing we can agree on, is that we aren't over what happened on this day in Manhattan, twelve years ago. I do not want to go backwards.  That is the honest truth. 

I know it may be wishful thinking, but I certainly do not want our country to enter into yet another war.  At the same time, I am horrified at the thought of what other human beings are enduring abroad.  

I don't have the answers, and I will not pretend to fully understand the various negative implications on either side of the debate, or for that matter, even the positive ones.  

But I do understand enough about the art of war to know that a divided front is much easier to manipulate and attack than a united one.  We are not standing together.  At least we can agree on that.  

It is as though we are in the greatest identity crisis of our time.  Who are 'Americans' anymore?? What do we stand for? How brave are we? Is corrupt intent of greed operating under a mask of 'bravery'?  Are we the world's policemen?  Do we want that job? 

We cannot seem to agree on any of those answers.  And yet, we must continue to live our lives.  We may have just so happened to have been born a U.S. citizen... But is citizenship born or made?  Both perhaps?? 

I'm sad today.  

I'm sad because I feel at odds politically with some of the people I love and admire the most; my friends and family.  Is that what makes our country weak or unique?  Hmmm, I just don't know anymore. 

I am slow to want to define myself on this issue because I do not see a clear picture on either side.  I do not see positive or constructive resolve either way the political wind is blowing.  

I just see my friends and fellow citizens at odds.  And all I can be sure of is that we are very far from where I hoped we would be.  

Today, I just hope that while we "Never Forget" what happened, or what could happen, I hope we also never forget how fortunate we are to simply be alive.  No matter what country you call home.  No matter where you live, what you do, who you imagine yourself to be; if your stomach is full today and you are able to mindlessly enjoy the warmth of a cup of coffee, well then we can agree that life is pretty good. 

Let's please, practice compassion and an act of kindness on this day, so that we may stand united, if only from that shared sentiment and action.  

Today:

Red, White, Blue

1/2 oz Grenadine

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps or Vodka

1/2 oz Blue Curacao

Layered in a shot glass! 

Salute and shoot! 

(Un)Limited Time Offer

Okay... it is time to divulge some seriously embarrassing personal information.  I've considered long and hard whether or not to tell you this, but today I woke up and thought that after two months of reading my blog every day... You've EARNED this juicy bite-sized morsel of autobiography.  Don't worry, you can thank me later.  

Once upon a time, I used to be a Vampire Slayer, a Warrior Princess and a Crime Scene Detective.  (See... I told you it was pretty juicy).  That's right ladies and gentlemen, I am a certified badass.  Or at least, I used to be.

I am pretty sure it was around the fourth or fifth grade when I took up secret training in the backyard of my childhood home.  I understood the risk of ever being found out, so I would pack up some snacks in a backpack and a few good pieces of wood and I'd set out on my own for a couple hours.

Since Vampires were actually a little scarce in my neck of the woods, I practiced my spear throwing at an old, dried up Christmas tree that was out by our horse barn.

I would practice doing flips and kicks while trowing these spears hard into the tree (aka "vampire").  When it occurred to me one day that vampires didn't seem to be as big a threat as my fellow man, I turned in my cross and wooden spears for a horse and a sword and deemed myself a warrior princess.  It seemed to be a natural progression for a slayer like me, and I rather enjoyed my newly regal warrior status.

I would take off on horseback and gallop up the side of the mountain just looking for a villager to rescue.  I spent a long winter scouring the valley for a battle or a villain, but never really found one.  And after months and months of this exhausting search and rescue effort, I decided to retire my sword.

Hmmm what role shall I play now??? 

There was a rather famous person on trial for murder at the time, and so I thought it best to try my hand at investigation.  I was already a skilled tracker and was not afraid of vampires, so how bad could a little detective work be??

I donned a white robe, I mean, a "lab coat" and went to work on the case.  It was a tireless effort of checking under the microscope and examining all the evidence.  And after all my efforts, and the glove didn't fit the suspect, well then I figured I ought to turn in my lab coat for my homework anyway.  After all, I was going to be in the seventh grade soon, and I knew my crime fighting days were numbered...

Or were they??

By the time I was twelve years old, I was already a skilled rider, spear thrower, and investigator; why should I give up on all these remarkable skills??

I suppose I just assumed that the days of make believe were a luxury I couldn't afford in the years ahead.  And in a way, I was sort of right.

To me, playing my hand at the imaginary mellow dramas of the 90s was just not a practical pursuit later on in life.  It was as if playing these various roles had a limited time offer.  

I almost believed that nonsense to be true; that I would someday have to give up on the thing I loved the most... storytelling.  Until one day, when I looked at myself in the mirror and made a decision.  I decided that if I had the discipline to practice my hand at all these roles each and every day after school, perhaps I could also be disciplined enough to never give up on my imagination.

I was correct that in some ways, life as a storyteller was a luxury I couldn't afford. That is, if I wanted everything that my peers could afford.  Classmates and friends have accumulated many things that I would surely enjoy: a house, a brand new car, a consistent paycheck.  Sure, those things would be nice.

But the day that I looked in the mirror and could still see myself as a warrior, a slayer and a street smart investigator, what I really saw was an Unlimited Time Offer.

And I made a decision to do what I love, no matter the cost.

Sure, sometimes I feel kind of like a loser.  To be perfectly honest, life as a storyteller isn't the most glamorous when compared to say, an Architect, Engineer, Doctor or Real Estate Tycoon.  But when I am faced with a severe care of "the flunkies", as I have dubbed it years ago, I can't help but remember the girl who felt like an indestructible BADASS circa 1995.

And it is the very spark I need to keep the fire ignited.

It is a choice.  I could either DO what I love or I could have the things I enjoy.  And what I have come to grips with is that as long as my imagination remains intact and I have the simple company of a few friends and readers... I actually have everything I need at this point in time.  And I am happy enough with that.

When you are passionate about something, well I believe that passion is to be honored.  Because passion and ability are God given gifts, not limited time offers.

So, if I have to imagine myself as the warrior, a servant, or the brave and fearless explorer... well then guess what; that is exactly what I shall do in order to press on and honor the Unlimited Offer of unlimited imagination.  

It doesn't get much juicier than that! 

Ok, now you can thank me... For you see, I am a fool for you; my friends on the other side of the page, the screen, and theater seats.  And to be honest, I don't see that offer expiring any time soon.


Today:

Vampire Slayer

1 oz Peach Schnapps 
1 oz Vodka
1 oz Grenadine
Fill with Orange Juice
Layered over Rocks! 

Change: I Can Roll With It.

Do you know what I've been up to this past week since turning in my bartender keys?? Aside from the obvious answer of blogging and consuming unhealthy amounts of coffee each morning, I've been steadily taking up a collection from my personal supply of spare change.  I sit on the floor each night and a few minutes every morning, sorting, counting and rolling.  Bet you didn't see that coming did you??

Hey, I'm no slouch when it comes to pinching pennies.  In fact, I've always been teased for the way I squirrel away every last cent.  But desperate times call for desperate measures! 

It didn't take long for the relief of leaving my last job to wear off.  The deep sigh of relief has now progressed into shallow breaths of anxiety.  How am I going to pay my bills now? I need to make just a little more money before heading to New York.  What am I going to do?

These are the kinds of thoughts that are probably amplified by the obscene daily dose of caffeine brewing from my kitchen each morning.  If there was ever a weakness of mine, it would have to be coffee.  Of course, if you've been reading along since July, you probably already know this to be true.  

So as I stumbled into the kitchen sometime last week, newly unemployed and plagued with this terrible bug to travel, I poured a cup of comfort in a cup and made an assessment of my situation.  

The dilemma is, I wasn't able to reach my financial goal in the three months I spent behind the bar this summer.  It was a seasonal position, as most jobs are this far up north.  In fact, once Labor Day had come and gone, so too had all the people! 

This place, as aforementioned in my earlier posts, is an idyllic summer retreat.  People travel far and wide to this town to soak in the summer sun and swim in the aqua blue waters of the Great Lakes.  Until late August that is; when the leaves begin to show signs of the impending cold that promises a six month long deep freeze.  

That's when the town's numbers are cut in half and along with it, the job opportunities. That was not a surprise to me.  That was part of the plan.  I had a deadline.  I had an exit; an escape plan of sorts.  

But as we all know too well, things have a way of changing.  Plans change.  Seasons change.  It's okay; change is how I roll.  I've figured out how to handle change much better than I used to... Huh, changes... Change. Roll with the changes. Now there is an idea... Roll some change!

Okay, so it's not exactly going to solve my problem entirely.  But, it has given me something productive to do while I figure out the bigger picture.  

In case you were wondering, yes I am rolling the change myself.  There are machines that sort and count change of course, but they take a huge percentage! And since I've become an amateur coin enthusiast anyway, I really don't mind the tedious process of picking through the piles and periodically checking the dates the coins were minted.  In fact, I would even say that I enjoy it.  

Go ahead and tease me.  I realize that this information only amplifies my super nerd status.  Blogger.  Film Geek.  Roller of spare change and collector of wheat pennies.  

While I'm on a roll (pun intended), I might as well tell you that I have flash cards for all these drink recipes that I carry with me to the bar.  So I guess that makes me a nerdy bartender as well.  

While I still haven't figured out how to solve my financial woes, at least I've made a small dent this past week by accumulating all my spare change.

I can rest easy, knowing that my time away from work hasn't cost me anything yet.  After all, a penny saved is a penny earned.  

I believe now more than ever that change is a good thing. 

Today: 

Cosmopolitan

2 oz Vodka

1/2 oz Cointreau

Splash of Cranberry Juice

Splash of Lime Juice

Shake and strain into a martini glass. 

Don't Rock the Boat

All Summer long I have been completely mesmerized by the sailboats that zig across the bay in the most swift and elegant fashion. When their sails are full and gleam bright white in the sunshine, it is utterly perfect.  The contrast of color against the deep blue water is like something out of a Hemingway novel.  

The sailors who charter these boats are like characters from the novel as well; adorned with classic nautical shoes, striped shirts and crisp pants.  They would often sit at the bar and keep to themselves.  I would always give them their space to sit on their own in what was presumably a state of quiet reflection before heading back to sea.  

I thought of how carefree and easy the whole picture appeared and I imagined that one day, I too would set sail.  In my next life, I will be a great sailor and set out on the high seas... exploring alongside giant grey whales and bottle nose dolphins... 

Hey...WAKE UP.  That ship has sailed! 

You see, there is a reason for the expression "Don't rock the boat." You would think it had something to do with capsizing, but after a few days out on the boat, I have arrived at another conclusion. My theory is that the saying is the result of sea sickness.  Even as I slouch here in bed, awake and typing, all I can feel are the rocking waves.  Up and down. Up and Down.  Did I mention that I am on dry land???

When I close my eyes it is much more intense... The rocking sensation hasn't let up for two days now and I am longing for the moment when I can lay down in bed and not feel like the ship is sinking!  

I bet those sailors weren't in a quiet state of reflection after all!! They were probably trying to concentrate on not falling off the barstool amidst the ceaseless imaginary rocking motion of rolling waves.  

Ugh, I can hardly stand the feeling much longer.  If there is some trick or magic cure to make this feeling go away, I haven't found it yet.  

Perhaps this is why we become so fascinated with one another as human beings.  We all have strengths and weaknesses.  I can't imagine how amazing it must feel to step aboard a great ship and not lose my lunch the next day.  I romanticize the experience because it is one that I am quite sure I won't ever be able to physically endure for prolonged periods of time.  Maybe; maybe not.  I wonder... Could I ever change my nautical ways?

Perhaps people can change if they really set their mind to the task.  I suppose if whatever they are attempting to change for matters enough, it is almost certainly possible.  But honestly, I don't know how much people can actually change.  I would like to think it is possible, but I'm just not sure.  Is it mind over matter? In this case, the obstacle is a physical sickness, which seems to be out of my control. So even if I wanted to change this; could I? 

Nope, I just don't know how much people can change.   

Maybe one day I will attempt to set sail.  But if I ever try, please do me a favor and don't rock the boat.  Trust me, it will be rocking enough all on its own. 

Today:

Classic Sailor's Drink

Rum and Coke

1 oz Sailor Jerry

2 parts Coca Cola

On the rocks in a highball glass

Lime wedge to garnish is optional. 

   

  

Opposing Forces

I've just spent the past five minutes reading an article published by Northwestern University about how a battery works.  You know, the kind that power that pink Energizer Bunny who rolls along, beating his little drum.  We know that the battery charges the Energizer Bunny; but what is charging the battery?

While I knew full well that a battery possesses two opposing forces, a positive end (+) and a negative one (-), I did not however, entirely understand how the opposite ends serve to charge the entire body and produce energy.  It is quite interesting... if you've had at least two cups of coffee before reading.

The article was extremely informative; going on to explain that there are in fact, three sides to a battery. The obvious (+) and (-) sides make up the two opposite ends of the battery of course, while the the third side is actually the middle.  I won't begin to articulate the painstaking process of how a battery works. You're welcome... 

If you ever do want to find out for yourself, I trust that there are far more informative articles online than the one I am writing here.  However, the gist of it actually serves to make a point that I would like to expound upon that promises to be a tad more entertaining than a Science Guy's explanation...

Basically, a battery is powered by the positive and negative thing-a-ma-jiggers that interact within the cell and are trapped in the middle.  That's about as scientific as I can get at 9:30 a.m., pre second cup of coffee.

What got me on this unusual subject you ask?? Well, it has a little something to do with the past two weeks. You see, yesterday I was informed that my perspective in life as shared in my blog,  appears to have taken a somewhat negative turn as of late.  While undoubtedly entertaining, the last week of blog posts have most certainly observed the world around me through less than rosy colored glasses.

So... what gives?  My dad seemed to find the shift of perspective rather amusing; suggesting that I become more and more like him every day.  Hmmmm...  

I thought about that statement all day yesterday.  Was he right? 

While my dad is not exactly Darth Vader, and I sure as hell don't resemble Luke Skywalker, it would seem that I have in fact turned to the dark side. Que the music: dum dum dum dum da daaa dum dum, doot doot do doo doot too doodle doot...  If you aren't familiar with that haunting score than you are forbidden from reading any further and are instructed to go watch Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back immediately.

Okay, the truth is, I may have had an unhealthy dose of (-) charges overloading my circuit these days.  But in all fairness, I was not blind to that phenomenon.  I could sense it too.  And that is when I decided  that it was time to put in my two weeks notice and take a break from life behind the bar.  My default mode is rather positive.  Honestly!

Look back to the posts in early July and you will read super charged (+) positivity.  Life Un-Stuck is a great example of my lightened up, enlightened point of view.

I definitely do not want to turn to the dark side.  And I would argue that a battery needs both opposing forces (+) and (-) to produce a charge within.

I believe that my positivity is simply re-charging as a result of the (-) negative ions floating around me on a regular basis.  The opposing forces of positive and negative perspectives actually serve each other in the long run.

This battery of mine is simply regenerating power, thank you very much! 

Do not fear.  I am certain that life with continue to shift between these two opposing forces for the rest of my days.  I am also certain that I will do my best to hopefully stay charged within my third side: the middle ground.

Until then, just enjoy the ride.  If not super (+) positive, it will be at the very least,
(-) entertaining!

Enjoy this Labor Day weekend and MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU!!!!! 

Always-


Today:

Jedi Mind Trick

1 oz Dark Rum
1 oz Amaretto Almond Liqueur
1 oz Kahlua ® Coffee Liqueur
1 oz Bailey's ® Irish Cream
3 scoops Ice Cream

2 Cherries

Combine all contents (except cherries) in a blender until smooth. Pour into a mug and garnish with cherries.

For this and other recipes Click here!

It's a Jungle Out There

It's no secret by now that I am a thirty year old single woman.  Big deal.  Although I am not overly affected by my singular status at this point in time, there are some days where it would be nice to not wear the label of 'Single White Female.'  It's like wearing a raw NY strip around my neck while taking a nature walk through the Amazon.  It can be a bit... uuhhhh, uncomfortable.

A friend of mine convinced me  to go out last night to a local bar to celebrate my newfound freedom from my job behind the bar.  "It's your last shift, let me buy you a drink."

It's funny... Even though I am a bartender, I'm not much into the whole bar scene.  But the gesture was certainly sweet of her and I agreed that it was a night worth celebrating, so we went out. 

Looking around the crowed room, ladies were out numbered 2-1,  I suddenly began to wonder if I had made a mistake.  They were like a pride of big game cats, out on the prowl. 

While I was definitely in the mood to celebrate, I was not in the mood to ward off the local game.  Too bad.  

The first old cat swaggered up and took a seat next to me.  He was a walking, head-to-toe mid-life crisis;  sporting a white polo sweatshirt with a flipped up collar and a scruffy three day beard.  He launched into our conversation like he had undoubtedly been doing with stealthy precision for the past thirty-five years.  Oh great, thanks for telling me how beautiful I am while you try to conceal your wedding ring. 

It's so gross!  Please go home to your wife and leave us single gals alone.   

My friend is only twenty-two but can shut it down hard.  I guess she's kind of a pro at this sort of thing.  She somehow interjected a comment that I am still trying to process as to how it registered as an immediate deflection.  It was like magic.  He instantly shook my hand and turned to his friend. Game Over. 

Okay, back to OUR conversation.  It was difficult to focus on my friend as I could sense that we were being stalked by yet another overly eager male, directly to her left.  He popped into our conversation with one of the most awkward lead in openers ever... "What are you ladies drinking?"  Not only is that a.) Boring b.) annoying c.) none of his business and d.) completely unwarranted; it was also made all the more awkward when my friend assumed that meant (what it almost always does mean) and she informed him that we weren't really drinking anything anymore... we were just about done.  

I could see the look of rejection wash all over him and he slurred, "Well I wasn't suggesting I was going to buy you a drink, I was just curious what you ladies were drinking."  Okay creep.  You weren't offering, you were just curious?? Puhhhlease.... Ugh...WEIRDO.  

"Well that was awkward," I said to him, shaking my head.  

Look, I am not some stuck up chick who won't give a guy a break.  I appreciate an honest attempt at getting to know someone in the midst of a crowed room of hopefuls.  But, one thing was pretty clear to me last night after being approached by a married man and a few awkward open liners; it's a jungle out there.  

I may be out of my element there... at the local watering hole... but can't I just take my sip and move along without having to fend for myself? 

Is this what it's like everywhere???? 

*Consider this an open discussion.*  

If you have any suggestions or good advice of your own survival instincts/experiences in the jungle... I will gladly listen.

Here is a little something I would like to say to all the married, sketchy crazies out there in the jungle-

Hey, Big Cat... You see, I'm more of a lone wolf.  I may also be out on the prowl in my own way, but I'm of the kind who mate for life.  We are a rare breed.  Kinda like penguins and swans. Please hunt someone more like you. Thanks.  

Sincerely, Not Interested.  

Today:

WHITE LION
3/4 oz. Fresh Lime Juice
1/2 oz. simple Syrup
1/4 oz. Raspberry Syrup
1/2 oz. Curacao
2 oz. Medium Rum
Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into white wine glass filled with crushed ice. Garnish with berries and a lime wedge. .

For this and other drink recipes click here!

Clocking Out

One of the most unsettling aspects of today, in addition to the stormy weather and unbearable late summer humidity, is conjuring up a somewhat convincing answer to the most frequently asked question posed to me all week; 'What's next?' It's Friday, but not just any Friday... Today is my last day behind the bar of my summer job.

I suppose I have mixed feelings about today.  But overall, I am relieved.  It has been a grueling assignment: serving up a few thousand cocktails to some extremely demanding tourists,  a dozen old school regulars and a handful of unhappy happy hour patrons.

Generally speaking, I like almost everyone I encounter in life: strangers both young and old, rich or poor, of every culture and background.  Perhaps it is because I am a writer and I get some sort of bizarre pleasure out of examining the eccentricities of human behavior.  I've always been eager to ask questions of where people are from and what has brought them here.  It is one of the most interesting aspects of my job behind the bar: the people.

That was, until recently... 

About a  month ago, I came to a rather disturbing realization: I didn't like people as much as I used to.  I was like an old shoe, steadily worn down to where very little soul remains... And in that analogy, if I was actually a shoe, I would have enjoyed drop kicking a few hostile patrons right upside their heads.

If I hear one more person complain that the blender is out of order, or that food is not served outside, or demand lime wedges as if it were a heart transplant, I might actually lose it.  There are some things I can help you with, and many more that I simply cannot.  Sorry.  And to that end, is it right to take your frustrations out on me?  I ought to write on the specials chalkboard tonight: "Don't Shoot the Messenger, Thanks."

As I wiped down the bar last night, I shook my head in disgust over the state of my beloved country; Miley Cyrus' ridiculous circus act on the VMA's last week was enough to make any American citizen nauseated.  And the way I am spoken to on a regular basis as a bartender is appalling to say the least.

What has happened to us?

A blender out of order is nowhere near a crisis; the unthinkable acts of warfare and violence in our country and abroad more aptly fit that description.  I think about all the people suffering in Syria, having lost a loved one and who are struggling to survive.  It makes me really sad and all the more impatient when I face the guy who acts as if the broken blender is appalling and outrageous.  I can't help but think; Dude, you are outrageous and a complete waste of space.

What is happening to me????? My own distain is beginning to reflect theirs... and I just don't need to stoop that low.

This is coming from the girl who genuinely used to like people!!!  So you see, that is where the overwhelming sense of relief stems from today; knowing that I will have a break from the bar and in that, a break from forcing a half-smile when faced with some of the most obnoxious people I have ever encountered.

I truly stand by my belief of providing excellent customer service.  I think it is imperative to treat people as if they are your guest and employ hospitality and gratitude toward that aim.  When it is no longer possible to exude these qualities,  then you can be sure it is time to get out of hospitality: if only for a short while.  

And that is where I'm at; knowing full well that I need a break from service.  I'm turning in my keys and clocking out after one last Friday night behind the bar.

To answer that frequently asked question honestly, I would have to produce an equally unsettling response: I don't know what's next just yet.  I guess that is going to have to suffice for now...

With that, I am headed off to work (if the rain subsides) and will clock in, ready to serve with a smile.

I will miss a few of the people I have worked with over the summer.  It was almost like being in the peace corps together: calming the nerves of the after five o' clock crowd.  But I won't miss the repeat offenders who sit on the other side of the bar and think that a good tip somehow justifies ongoing blatant sexual harassment.  Nope, I won't miss that one bit.

Alas, two things to remember tonight: don't forget to smile and don't forget to clock out.


Today:

Long Beach Tea

1/4 oz Vodka 
1/4 oz Gin
1/4 oz Rum
1/4 oz Tequila 
1/4 oz Triple Sec
Splash of Sour 
Splash Cranberry

Garnish with a lime wedge

The Quitter Jitters

There is a little bully who sits on your left shoulder.  He antagonizes your every move and delights in your demise; he's your nemesis.  I have lived with my own little bully for thirty years and I can promise you one thing: he isn't going anywhere anytime soon.  No sir, he is quite comfortable right where he is. But to be fair, I have had my share of obstacles; and the little nagging bully sat upon my shoulder and delighted in my defeat...

First it was gymnastics. I was just a little kid looking for a way to kill time.  I wanted to have something of my own to get involved with while my brothers were busy excelling in their various sports and activities.  I had mastered a cart wheel and the balance beam but thats about it.  But I was fairly determined to stick with my newfound extracurricular activity until the day something truly traumatizing happened: I was trampled on the trampoline.

A stampede of children big and small were all bouncing up and down and having a blast.  But then, to my horror, the instructor had us all run from one side of the bouncing tarp to the other in unison.  This wasn't such a bad idea, until the moment I tripped, fell flat on my face as a herd of energetic wannabe gymnasts ran right across me.   Not one of them stopped to help me up.  I was squashed: gymnasium roadkill.

Well, as embarrassed as I was, it was even more embarrassing to face everyone and declare myself a quitter.  Gymnastics was not my thing.  I sat in the car and tried to figure out what to do next...

Maybe I ought to try Karate... Yeah, that would be kind of cool! That way if I get trampled, I can at least defend myself...

I suited up and tied the crisp white belt around my waist.  I felt like a ninja and looked like a pint sized badass.  It was awesome... for a couple weeks anyway...  It was another day of practice when we were paired off to spar.  Okay, let's do this!  I turned to face my opponent: a strawberry blonde boy who was probably a good three inches shorter.  We bowed to acknowledge the match, and then we faced off.  As I extended my right arm to mimic the action of a sturdy blow to the forehead, I overshot it a little and knocked the kid square between the eyes.  There was a collective gasp in the room as the boy burst into tears.

When he removed his hands from the spot where I punched him, a small indentation was revealed.  I immediately recognized the mark.  Ah crap, I forgot to remove my ring! The karate master noticed it right away.  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit... 

I was in my very own version of Big Trouble in Little China.  The master went to retrieve his bamboo stick: you know, the one he whacks you with when you've really screwed up and pissed him off.  It was at precisely this moment when he approached me with that stick, that I promptly decided that my days as the next karate kid were over! I QUIT!!!

I never looked back...

Figure Skating sounds like fun... I'll try that! The outfits were way cuter than the boring white robes of my former karate days.  I had a hot pink spandex unitard.  It had black geometric shapes and was totally 90's coolness.

I was really good at the skating forwards part, and even a few small spins.  But then it was time to practice jumps.  And let me just say, jumping on ice is not easy.  Falling on ice is frosty coated misery.  How many times do you have to eat it before landing on your feet??

It didn't take long to figure out that I was not meant to be the next Michelle Kwan.  I skated my way right out of there.

At this point, it seemed that the only thing I was any good at was quitting.  The little bully sat on my shoulder, my earlobe as his punching bag, tormenting my failed attempts: quitter, quitter!

At this point, I must tell you that I eventually did land upon a sport where I found my stride, excelled and didn't quit. (But that is another story for another day).

Back to the tales of my tormented youth... Yes indeed, I felt like a giant loser, an epic failure, and above all else: a serial quitter.

It's been many years since then and I have come to realize one of the most valuable lessons of my life; Quitting something because it hurts doesn't make you a failure.  I would argue that in some ways, calling it quits can be one of the most defining aspects of your character.  It is important to recognize your limitations and set boundaries accordingly.

I did not intend to punch that boy in the forehead in Karate.  It was an honest mistake: an accident.  But the master wanted to teach me a lesson so that I might not repeat that mistake again.  He had every intention of striking me with the bamboo stick that day: but I knew a little something about self defense that he didn't see coming.  I understood that sometimes, you just have to walk away.

I didn't want to fight.  I didn't want to fall.  I didn't want to figure skate.  I didn't want to fail...

After many years of self discipline and care, I do know where I excel and where I do not.  And I am grateful for the times that I had the courage to take a stand and walk away: even if it meant I was a quitter.

Quitting the wrong things, opens up the doors for the right things.

It took a long time to develop this perspective.  For many years I feared myself to be a quitter; a failure. But I see now the strength and courage it takes to know when it's time to call it quits.  It takes faith: to believe that the right thing will come along and in that, you'll shine!

In two days, I will be released from the bar where I have served my time this summer.  And quitting this job was not a decision that was necessarily easy to make.  I have what I call quitter jitters.

It's the kind of cold feet where you wonder where to go next.  Another bar? Another city or state?
I may not know right now.  And although it is unnerving to not know for sure where I am headed, I am armed with the satisfaction of walking away from something that ultimately hadn't made me feel very good inside.

Knowing when to quit something that isn't serving you doesn't make you a failure, it just makes you human.


Today:

The Russian Standard Gold

2 1/2 oz Vodka
1 oz Ginger Liqueur
 Sake and strain into a martini glass

Rim glass with edible gold dust! 

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