Juicy Caramel Apples

I'm not big on Halloween, hence I am in bed writing a blog, in no condition to drive. My plans for tonight got a bad cold and I am so tired after this last week I happily climbed into my bed. I am 100% certain that when Dr. Sylvia gets home from the movies, she is going to ask me to hand out the candy. Thank God it's raining so there might not be as many kids, because I have no intention of putting my pants back on. Although, if I do pass out candy it would allow me to have the bowl next to me, and Dr. Sylvia bought some good shit this year. So that's my Friday night. It's nothing exciting, but I am enjoying just laying in bed typing my thoughts, warm under the covers.

I saw this seven year old girl at Trader Joe's yesterday as I bought my enchiladas. She had the word "Juicy" written on the butt of her sweat pants. Now, I get the whole Juicy Couture thing, it's not my thing, I retired my track suits a while ago (although I stuck to Addidas tracksuits, but I'm Hip Hop like that. I will admit that they have some nice handbags, but I would never go as far as to recommend one to a friend, let alone buy one for myself. But how fucking inappropriate is it to put the word "Juicy" on a seven year old's butt? I mean really? REALLY? The mother of the girl was exactly what you would expect, thirty-eight, blond, and trying too hard (Hello, Atherton!). Just by her Escalade alone I could tell that this woman's judgement was faulty. "Juicy," it's just so wrong.

I as making Halloween cookies at work the other day, when a male customer started to talk about how he wanted a caramel apple, but just not one with nuts, which was what we had displayed. He kept going on and on about how much he disliked the chocolate and nuts, going as far as to say to his friend, "If I buy a BMW, I don't want the world." I then proceeded to actually tell the customer that I had indeed just dipped some plain caramel apples that morning, to which he got all huffy and said, "I don't even want one," in a very pissy tone. He actually reminded me of a candy apple himself, with that stick up his ass. "If I buy a BMW, I don't want the world?" Again, really? Who says that? I mean what a telling statement of the man's character.

It all makes me want to grab a sheet pan and smack these people in the face. Wake Up! Look at the reality of who you are and ask yourself if you are happy. If I asked for a cookie, and you gave me a bakery, I would love you. If I ever find myself with a seven year old girl of my own, she wouldn't even be wearing sweat pants in public. She'd have on some jeans and a t-shirt, little Chucks and some kick ass accessory, not some velour billboard advertisement for pedophiles.

I have so much going on in my heart at the moment. So much trepidation and anxiety and straight up fear. I'm in some sort of controlled freak-out, and just trying to breath. I worked so hard to close off wanting any of those good feelings and snuggles that come along with meeting someone new and actually hitting it off. I find myself having flashes of "Oh shit"- fear, analyzing and thinking to the point that I have myself wrapped in negativity as opposed to the beauty of affection. I feel like I am running while dragging my feet. Wanting it, but being so terrified about what could happen. A little too much honesty? I'm too thick in The Haze to care. Fuck proof-reading.

Wellfare

I've been up since five this Sunday morning. I went to sleep drunk, I mean straight up having a hard time taking off pants, had to leave my car behind a WaMu (love that name), with just one and a half Saddle Room Vodka sours on an empty stomach. I am not a fan of getting drunk, one sip too many and I will get anxious to the point that I need to be held down. So, it wasn't really my plan to get that boozed, but I laughed a lot and magically am not hungover (that's where the juice comes in). Yesterday was all around, a very good day (I even got The Stage washed).

Around 5:45, Chef Doug came downstairs and asked me to make him a cup of my nasty flavored coffee. Sundays use to be the one day a week Chef Doug and I would talk while I was away, so I was happy to find him chatty. I had spent yesterday afternoon with someone I had been wanting to meet for a while now, and found myself sharing "Doug-isms" more then was probably necessary. I can't imagine that a twenty-five year old woman talking about advice her dad has given her, is very attractive, but the old man is so dead on and it was pertaining to the conversation, so hey, I've said worse. Chef Doug and I just have a tendency to talk about life in a way that always ends up with him dropping some sort of prolific bomb, and I feel the need to pass it on.

This morning Chef Doug and I talked about my Grand Canyon adventure. It's funny how many people want to take the trip with me, it's a nice feeling. We discussed our plans to grab my sister and go camping, and about Chung coming for Christmas. I had seen that the Final Cut of Blade Runner was in the theaters, and knowing that it's one of his favorites, so we made plans to go see it today since we barely see each other because of work. Dr. Sylvia soon came down the stairs, a little on the angry side. Something about it's the weekend and we don't need to be keeping "baking hours" on the weekends. Koda then came and sat next to me and nuzzled my knee as I rubbed his cheek. It's only 7:14 am, and I am feeling pretty good.

I know how lame this all sounds, me spending a morning with my middle aged parents, but I don't care. I spent two years of Sunday mornings, alone and silent. A lonely Sunday every now and then is a beautiful thing, but after a while it just gets pathetic and you can only yearn to have someone to pass you the half and half. It makes me feel a lot more grounded waking up to conversation and coffee, and just having company in general makes my life feel a lot more full then I use too.

Although I have been missing Switzerland lately, it is still very clear to me why I moved back. spending years without the love and support and coffee that family provide, Europe loses some of its shine. My heart does however bleed for Frey with Chung, and coffee-talk with Grossi in her kitchen. Yes, my heart bleeds.

Wait, what?

There was a lot of roadkill on the street today. I saw at least five squirrels and three larger rodents. I braked for a squirrel yesterday, it just cocked it's head at me with a nut in its mouth. If I was a squirrel I might actually look before I crossed the street. Didn't Disney or Pixar make a movie about some animals trying to cross a street or something? I don't watch all those computer animated movies, I am sure they are cute and all, but it's just not my thing.

I went up to San Francisco to spend a small fraction of my first paycheck. I came back with a snugly mustard bag, and that fuzzy feeling that a brilliant purchase gives me. In saying that, I would like to mention that I put a large chunk of my money in my savings this week. I only mention that because I know my sister is reading this and shaking her head. Straight up, I am not going to withhold a purchase every now and then. I hear the whole "save, save, save" thing, and plan on doing that, but not while losing my "flava."

In regards to my lovely sister, we set a limit of thirty dollars for each others Christmas presents this year. We try and make our gifts for each other usually and last year she out did herself with the most awesome of scrapbooks (the thing made me cry the first three times I looked at it). This year it looks like she might be bringing out her crochet hooks and making me a blanket. When she asked me what colors I wanted, I asked for something "Kanye" inspired. Dede isn't all to familiar with the genius that is Kanye West's wardrobe/color palate, but she has The Internet, so I am sure she will figure it out. Suffice it to say, I am SUPER excited to see what she comes up with. I won't spare her the stress, there is A LOT of pressure on her for this one. I asked for, "so ugly it's beautiful," and I am hoping she has watched enough Project Runway to know what I mean. I only joke though, no matter what that girl gives me, I will love it and brag to you about it.

Beautiful Absurdity

I feel happiest when laughing at absurdity, preferably my own. I have a tendency to take myself or life a tad too seriously, so I cherish those quick moments of clarity of how funny and ironic life is. Marching bands, wrongly used quotation marks on a sign, catching myself lying for no reason: they all paint a troublesome smile on my face. I squint my left eye a bit, as I grin evilly with the left side of my mouth. My sister knows this look too well. It's the same expression I make when talking about Christmas or my birthday.

I use to love dancing alone in my dark old apartment. I would make a whole night of it. Cheap champagne, weed, and a those black velvet stilettos that Chung gave me for Christmas. I had a whole playlist just for a Saturday night with nothing to do. The best music was always the music I would never admit to listening to. I NEVER want anyone to go rummaging in my iPod, there is some morally challenged music lurking in there, and you would probably come to deeply judge me. There is just something so freeing and awesome about turning up a great song really loud and rocking out, alone and uninhibited. Dancing in the dark pulled me out of so many funks in Luzern. I would smoke as I put on my heels, turn down the lights and turn up the volume. I got to give Chung props for the full wardrobe she provided me with for those solo-dance parties. A gold sequined dress, that awesome tinsel bolero, shoes, silk tops, Chung supplied all of it. The nights I was too tired to go out were spent dressed to the nine's, rocking out to some Otis Redding, or Chaka Kahn. The best cure for loneliness is to dance your heart out. "You Are The Best Thing," by Ray LaMontagne, is what got me to think about that. I'm grooving to it as I type. I love songs that remind me how great life really is.

I'm finding my point of view at the moment to be a bit lame. My positivity kind of left me after that girl tried to get me fired last week, and I am finding myself waking up in the morning with the wrong perspective. Between random drives to random places, searching for music that puts me in my place, and a lot of coffee in the morning, I am just trying to find a solution. I left work after an hour this morning because I felt sick. I spent the day in bed sleeping, watching filth on tv, and spending way too much time on Facebook. By tomorrow morning I have to get my shit together and get back in the mind set of baking with a smile. No one likes a whiner.

White Girl

Today was the first day since I have moved back to California, that I wanted to be back in Switzerland. Everything I touched today at work either burned, clumped or spilled. I was a mess and time dragged like there was no tomorrow. As much as I have tried to put the right foot forward in every facet of moving back, small hindrances keep causing me to stumble and I am now growing tired of trying. Friends who were once so excited about me coming back have ceased to call or even call back, I find myself investing time and myself in a person whom I can't even figure out likes me or not, and have put in over-time in at a job that keeps setting me up to look like an ass. I put myself out there: I move back, I try to start a new, try to make changes, start fresh. Yet, I still go to bed feeling the same way I did in Luzern: tired, confused, and just wanting to leave, get in my car and head for the Grand Canyon. At the end of the day I just have a hard time seeing the point. I know where I am, I just am not sure of where I am heading.

I am itching to get in my car and drive to the coast right now. Sitting in my room, semi-stoned and feeling bad for myself, isn't the way I like to spend my Thursday nights. I would rather snuggle and be told something that would make me feel good, or drink. Life at the moment doesn't swing that way for me, and I promise to only feel sorry for myself until midnight, after that it's a new day, and a fresh start.

If only I could wake up and stop caring. If only.

Sinking Sand

So last week was my first week at my new job. It's was long and hard, but I felt good if not tired at the end of each day. I was new to everything, and a lot of the time I had no idea what I was doing, but everything came out ok, and one way or the other I always made it out alive. I hate first weeks, and this was just one and the same: awkward and frustrating, with the constant feeling that everyone is looking at you like a leper. But I smiled, oh did I smile. I came to work with "Buenos Dios!" and left with a hearty, "Adios." I tried to stay out of the way, not mess anything up, and tried not to come off as the middle class-white girl that I am.

You can only imagine how weird it was for me to find out that the girl I work closest with actually went to our boss and told him that she didn't think I was the right fit for the job, and that he had made a mistake hiring me. She did this on my third day. THIRD DAY! Seriously, we can't atleast give me a week before trying to get me canned? This is a skilled job, every chef is different, but at the root of it, either you have the skills or you don't. Recipes are recipes, cakes are cakes, it's one and the same if you know what you are doing. If you know what you are doing. It's just so crazy to me. There are other things that factor in to the ridiculousness of the whole situation, but it still leaves me shaking my head. I went to work this morning actually looking forward to my work. I can't remember the last time I have had that happen, so it just kind of sucks to have someone want to shit on it.

In the end I plan on keep going to work, doing the best I can with what I know and hope that things turn out right. More then that I am not paid for. I try to put the best version of myself out there, and as much as I try not to be as sensitive to people's reactions, it's something that I continue to work on.

I still can't really complain though, I still feel good. Life in The Bay is good, the weather is great and I continue to find myself with an arsenal of quality friends and family. I'm trying to make my life the best one for me, that's it. I'm still glad I moved back, everyday reassures me that I made the right decision. So I'm going to just keep going with that. Tomorrow might just lead me to the beach, I'm looking forward to it. I have to.