winter

This past weekend I traveled to Yakima in my own car. Over the pass and through the plains with 4 doors, 3 wipers, 2 side mirrors, and 1 functioning heater. Luxury. I visited Kristen, DJ and Melissa and we all went cross-country skiing. The mountains looked and felt great under the weight of snow and cold. Skiing was fun in spite of my ungraceful movements and lack of experience. Check out the road that my car navigated like it was dry asphalt!

My car needs a name. I can't find anything that fits, so feel free to offer suggestions under the comments. It's blue. A Loyale. Tough yet comfy. 4WD. Refined yet ugly and old...

Catering continues to surprise me. I had a house party last night in Medina. I forgot how rich people can be. So wealthy. The home looked like a catalog and a pristine BMW sat in the garage. The guests were fancy and snooty. Even the 10 year old girl who was helping the hostess bragged about her dress purchased in NYC and smiled at me in a way that I swear was condescending. All the women greeted each other by complimenting how one another looked. It was a real eye roller. It is tempting to covet seeing how pleasant the house looked, how yummy the expensive food was and how couture the shoes looked. Being rich would be easier. But if it meant being shallow and devoid of character, then I'll leave it. I think I prefer people with a little scruff and edge lining their depth. And that isn't even considering the 1/3 of the world living on less than $2 a day.

Today's trip photo is from San Pedro de Atacama in Chile. This is the main plaza in this artsy desert town on the border with Bolivia. We sat and ate ice cream and watched the kids play soccer.

smooth move

My life as a catering employee continues with last night's party for Children's Hospital in a tall building in North downtown. I was wandering around as usual swooping in for dirty dishes and passing appetizers to people who felt uncomfortable taking food from a live person. About 300 people had showed up to drink and dine and celebrate the Hospital's 100th anniversary. Quiet filled the room and a short program began as we all gathered, ready to pass champagne for the big toast. I grabbed a tray with about 12 glasses on it and moved through the crowd, people no longer shy to take something from a live person. I returned to the galley to refill my tray and reach a few more people before the toasts were over.

I left the passageway from the kitchen as people raised their glasses for a second toast, this time for the newly introduced Mayor. I was moving fast when a large, sports coat clad back began to move towards me. I slowed and recoiled and sucked in air when I realized that the glasses were going down. In slow motion, my wrist fighting the crossfire of inertia, the first three glasses tipped forwards, all over the sports coat. Three of them fell off the tray while four others spilled onto me and made their way off my little round tray as well. CRASH! POP! SMASH! 7 of my 10 flutes blew into shards and mocked me as their pieces all floated in mid air before resting in a 12 foot radius.

The quiet of the room changed into a giant gasp that made my hair flutter and my tie shift. 'Ooh'...died out into an eerie silence while 600 eyes shifted to me. Maintaining my ever-fluid motions I whispered 'I'm sorry' as I moved from the curled recovery position into a spin back into the kitchen. I fled. I set down my tray and went to look for the dustpan, soaked in alcohol. The stunned silence of the room slowly melted away as the speaker cracked a joke and continued with their toasting. My colleagues swooped in and swept up and the party went on. Later a work friend told me that while I looked for the broom, the man came to the back for a towel, removed his jacket and revealed a 9mm gun strapped to his torso.

Nice one.