trust the process

[click on title for full post]

Today's Think Kit blog prompt: 

Rants & Raves

 
Get on your soapbox. What issue, idea, or stance were you vocal about this year? Or did you let it internally build up? Was there an event, person, or time that triggered your strong reaction? Or was it a slow-burn? Why do you feel so strongly – is it personal? Emotional? Strictly reasonable?
Show us some passion – make your argument from the mountaintop!

Well dang it. If I would have known that this was coming I would have used yesterday's magic wand for world peace and saved turn signals for today....

I like to think that I'm not a ranter and raver but I think I'm just kidding myself. My most entertaining rants are internal (I'm hilarious in my own mind) and typically during my once-a-week waitressing shift.

Don't get me wrong. I love my Saturday night job and have met wonderful folks while doing it. My Red Key job has led to great things including wonderful friendships, working at Second Helpings and several writing gigs. And the cash is nice too.

I also know that I'm an impatient person and try to do a good job of tamping that down, but that seems to fall apart on Saturday nights. Part of what I love about working at the Key is that I'm the hostess, server, cook (yep, cook!), cashier and dishwasher. Depending on how busy it is I might make the drinks also. I really like doing all of that, but it does get nuts.

My rant for customers everywhere is pretty simple: TRUST THE PROCESS. 

You don't need to tell us what order to do things in - I think it is pretty universal that drinks come first, then food, more drinks and more food if you want it, then the check.

You don't need to tell us what is in most drinks, unless it is a crazy shot that you learned about in a college bar last week.

You don't need to tell us to put the cottage cheese on the side. I swear it has never once occurred to me to plop it on your tenderloin, and I bet it is the same way for other waitresses also.

If a server tells you they are out of something, they are. We want to get you that potato salad as much as you want it. We're not hiding food from you. Swear.

When your group of six orders cocktails and glasses of water, just because we bring the cocktails first, it doesn't mean that we forgot the water, we just ran out of hands and we'll be right back with it.

That said, we do forget things. Feel free to remind us and know that we didn't forget to bring you hot sauce because we want to ruin your evening. We simply just forgot. 

Don't tell us to put everything "on the side, to make it easier on you." We're happy to put everything on side - we want you to be happy, but in no way is it easier.

Keep in mind the server is your advocate in the kitchen. They're the only thing between you and a knife-welding line cook. If they tell you the kitchen can't do something, know that they have tried their best to make it happen.

go team!

 

Jake and I were all decked out in Colts gear for our Saturday night shift at the Red Key. 

Clearly we weren't the good "Luck" charms we thought we were. 

Guess I can pack that skirt away until Fall.

click your heels

Phoenix Airport, Southwest terminal 

I guess there is no place like home, but sometimes you want to slow the process down a little bit - and not by having your flight delayed by two hours. Luckily I got a text alert before Annie dropped me off so we were able to goof around a bit more. We peeked in on the yoga class that Tim teaches at a local park and photographed some fun murals and signs downtown.

This sign is for a pest control company. I need to download the photos from my camera, these are the cell phone versions.

Rooster on the side of a bar.

While I loved the bonus time with Annie, it was a long damn day. I went straight from the Indianapolis airport to my Red Key waitressing/cooking shift. Luckily it was busy enough to keep me from falling asleep.

slingin' beers and flippin' burgers

Red Key Jukebox 

There is a cause and effect of going out of town for a week for me - three jobs to be covered. I have plenty of vacation time at Second Helpings, but between wrapping things up to leave, answering e-mails when gone, and catching up when I get back, I can quickly feel overwhelmed. I think I did I good job this time of balancing everything with the day job this time.

One of the consequences of being off last Saturday and needing this Saturday off, I had some shifts to make up for the folks that graciously covered for me.

I raced from my first day back at SH to working at the Red Key last night. And I'll do the same thing tonight. While it felt a little stressful, once I was there it was okay. I love the routine of taking orders, delivering their drinks and cooking their food and taking their money. There is satisfaction in seeing a task done from start to finish.

And I can sleep later, right?

indianapolis state fair 2012 - day two

This was to be a quick visit to the Fair. I worked at Second Helpings until almost 3:00 and had to be at the Red Key at 5:00 for my waitressing shift.

My goal was no only to visit the Fair, but to get a new chef’s hat to Second Helpings Chef Sam Brown. He’d given a cooking demonstration earlier and it was so hot that his hat wasn’t looking so fresh. He was being interviewed for book, Food for Thought: An Indiana Harvest, and wanted to look crisp.

 It started raining just as I pulled into the Fairgrounds. And trust me, no one was complaining about it - woo hoo glorious rain! I stuck the toque (chefs hat) in a cooler in an attempt to keep it dry. The rain turned into a thunderstorm as I was walking and an announcement was made for us all to seek shelter in a permanent structure building.  

Look at all of those interesting things tucked away. 

I was lucky enough to get hustled into a space that isn’t usually open to the public – the workshop for Pioneer Village AND the State Fair Queen and her court were there. Jackpot!

I'm soaked and showing the Queen my dairy cow ring. 

We waited about 20 minutes or so for the ‘All Clear’ announcement. By the time I made my way around the Fair, I burst into the end of Sam’s interview. I had just enough time to make my way back to the car and head to work.

It was a short but very sweet visit to the Fair. 

matt elliott

Matt Elliott at my 50th birthday party, May 15, 2011

Matt was happy.

Matt was at a happy point in his life, doing what he loved in the neighborhood he loved.

I’m taking great comfort in that.

Matt Elliott died on October 27.

Matt was one of those people that I knew would always be part of my life. Who knows where our individual lives would have led, but I knew without a doubt that Matt would be around.

I first meet Matt when we were selling beer for a little craft beer distributor and I soon realized that Matt was everywhere. At various times over the last sixteen years we’ve played poker together, worked across the street from each other, sat next to each other at boxing matches, attended the same shows and tended for each other’s cats.

We took turns being across from each other at various counters and bars– sometimes me waiting on Matt, sometimes Matt waiting on me – sometimes both in the same day. Most fun were the times we were sitting on the same side of the bar. Those meetings typically weren’t planned, but you always knew that Matt was good for excellent conversation and that you were sure to have at least one belly laugh and leave with a bunch of random Indiana-centric facts. If the conversation involved meat or chocolate or newspapers or books or beer, all the more better.

Matt was delightfully curmudgeonly. He was well-versed in the things that caught his fancy and opinionated in almost everything. If he dug his heels in the ground, there was no budging him. I finally gave up in asking him to have decaf coffee brewed in the morning at the Newsstand Café. But he didn’t let differing opinions get in the way of a good conversation or friendship. In the middle of a debate, he’d throw in a charming wink.

Matt was one of those ‘all in’ guys. He didn’t do anything halfway. We swapped cat feeding duties at various times over the years. I would dutifully feed his cat, fetch the mail and turn on lights while he was out of town. Matt would camp out at my house while I was out of town; keeping my Felix company, enjoying sleeping on my ancient sofa, exploring my stacks of books, and the adventure of living a few blocks away for the week.

For years we worked across the street from each other and the Atlas Food Market was on the same corner. After the fixtures and contents of the Market were auctioned off, Matt realized that they hadn’t sold the wooden sign from the alley side of the building. Matt plotted rescuing the sign for months, but he felt the time was never quite right – which drove me nuts. Matt was deliberate and thoughtful about projects, a right–tool-for-the-right-job sort of guy. I’m a dive in and pound-nails-in-the-wall-with-the-heels-of-my-cowboy-boots sort of woman. One evening, after yet another conversation about the sign, I excused myself, drove around the corner, parked next to the building, hopped in the back of my truck, and crowbar’ed the sign down. Ten minutes later I returned to report that the sign was ready to deliver to his house. It is now on the wall of Twenty Tap, across the street from where Atlas used to sit. 

Matt was a charming escort. And not just because he owned a tuxedo. I drug him to various fancy fundraisers over the years and he could always make me feel comfortable. I tend to wig out over those things – and convince myself that I don’t belong and I’m not wearing the right thing – you get the picture. By the time Matt and I figured out who’s vehicle could actually hold a passenger (we’re both notorious messy car folks), who’s car was mechanically sound enough to get us downtown, and if we had enough cash to park the car and tip the bartender, I was a mess.   

My very favorite Matt memory comes from one of those nights. I was feeling especially tense. I’d already spent $300 on tickets, purchased a fancy dress, and was missing my Red Key shift. I was feeling particularly poor and out of place. There was wine on the tables, but I’m not a wine drinker – wine tends to make my face red and my mood morose – not something you want when you’re already feeling weird. Matt excused himself, found a bar across the street and walked back into the gala with a glass of my favorite whiskey. A man at the table remarked, “Wow, he must really love you.”

Matt really loved all of his friends and would go out of his way to make sure they were comfortable and had exactly what they needed. Except for decaf coffee, maybe.

I did love and admire Matt. After spending time with him my heart always felt full -- from gratitude of living in a community that allows you to meet folks like Matt, and the joy of making strong grown-up friendships.  

Rest in peace, my friend. And I’m glad you were happy. Seriously. 

bleck

I'm tired of the snow.

I worked at the Red Key tonight. Which I always enjoy.

And I usually like taking out the trash.

Seriously.

But now the dumpster is halfway across the icy parking lot.

And locked.

With a big iron bar across the lid. When unlocked the bar only moves a few inches.

There are two choices. One is to hold the lid up with your head as you swing the heavy bag five feet up to get it in the dumpster. The second is to talk a hapless customer into going with you to help. Then you get to hold the lip up with your arms as the trash and bottles are hurled just inches from your face.

I'm not bitter.

Seriously.

work tamped down with more work

Waitress station, Red Key
Pipe [bottom right] is a chute where returnable beer bottles used to travel to basement.
Trash can [top right] is my nemesis.*

Today was a busy day of work followed by work. I've been spoiled the last few weeks and have only worked one job on Saturdays. I've tried to be protective of my Saturday afternoons, but was happy to work at Second Helpings today. 

We had some great volunteers come in and paint our training kitchen today. I couldn't paint my way out of a paper bag. I've lived in my house for over a dozen years and it has never once occurred to me to paint my walls.

Luckily, there were lots of people who did know what they were doing. I'm a damn good wet towel fetcher and spill wiper-upper. Everyone has a talent.

I raced home to clean the house. And by clean, I mean finally taking the wrapping paper to the basement and scooping the towels off of the bathroom floor. I didn't have time to ditch the vases of pine boughs or sweep or dust or put away the piles of Christmas gifts or cards. I'm ashamed to admit that I shoved some junk under the table - and it's not like you can't see under the table, but it made me feel better. Sort of like a play pen for piles of stuff.

I was doing the panic cleaning because NYC John was flying in at midnight and spending the night at my house before making the trek to his hometown. It's not like I haven't known it for days, I just thought the cleaning fairy might think it was a good time to show up.

No luck.

The Red Key was a little nuts, I got busy later in the evening, cooking right up until 10:00. Then the joint filled up with youngsters. The Red Key is doesn't serve pitchers or fancy shots so we don't get many people in their mid-twenties and early-thirties.

One of the youngsters wanted to fix me up with his dad. Who was there. That got awkward quick.

NYC John's timing was perfect. He walked in the door just as the dad was demanding my phone number. I'd admit that I didn't explain the big hug I gave John and handing him the key to my house to the group. I let everyone drawn their own conclusions.

Between youngsters, the late night, the lack of nap, the trash dumpster being across the icy parking lot and locked, I was good and grumpy by the time I got home.

A hot shower and catching up with an old friend was exactly what I needed to erase the furrow in my brow.

Life ain't so bad after all.

*that trash can is my nemesis because it has a swinging lid top and people love to stuff it to the gills. It's hard to get the bag out of and I typically have to wrestle it to the floor at 2:00 in the morning to empty it. It is bleached out the night before and there is usually bleach water at the bottom. I've ruined more skirts and pants and tee shirts because of that damn can than anything else in my 30 year restaurant career.
Sounds petty, but I'm allowed to hate one thing about my job, right? 

saturday night

view from the stage

I don't often go out after my Red Key shift any more. For one thing it's usually after 3:00 by the time we're done cleaning up and restocking. And I'm older and creakier.

My typical after work routine is to shower and start a load of laundry (you can still smoke in bars in Indianapolis). If I'm feeling spunky I might play a round or two of facebook Scrabble.

My co-worker Robin and I venture out every six months or so --  this was one of those nights. The Pawn Shop Pub was celebrating their fourth anniversary. Robin used to work there and the owners are friends of the Red Key.

We made it just in time for 'last call,' and met up with friends from yet another neighboring bar. We had great laughs and talked about music, Sanibel and being in 'the business.'

It seemed like a great idea at the time (the time being 3:00) to go check out the ring toss game at a friend's venue. I impressed the crowd by getting the ring to hook on my third toss.

That grand achievement sparked some buried bit of responsibility in my brain and I remembered that my column was due in just a few hours. I grabbed my laptop from the car, took advantage of the Wifi and sat on stage and wrote while the others continued the fun.

It's amazing how I got more written in that half an hour than I did the whole day. There is something to be said about the lack of distractions...

bye colts, see you next year....

I like sports but don't care so much for the fashions. Team jerseys don't look good on anyone but the actual players. 

I do have a nice selection of foam fingers, they work with any outfit.

I've also learned that I get a lot of crap from the customers if I'm not wearing at least wearing the team colors when I waitress during a big game. 

Since the Colts were playing in a must-win game I dressed as Peyton Manning.

Quarter on my back, quarterback, get it? 

No one else did, either. 

I tried.

nest

A boyfriend once commented that I build a nest wherever I land. No argument from me. I've spend the day lounging and writing and napping and I've collected the cat, a popcorn bowl and a book in my wake.

I've made a conscious effort to keep Saturday afternoons to myself.

It is good for everyone - most of all the Red Key customers - if I can get a nap in before my shift. Saturdays are long nights - if I'm lucky I'll be showered and tucked into bed by 4:00 am.

I'm also practicing not being so accessible, just because the phone rings doesn't mean I need to answer it.

Or if someone is pounding on my door I don't need to jump up. Not if I'm still in my jammies and haven't brushed my hair. Hopefully I didn't miss Mr. Right or a sweepstakes notification.

Most likely it was the dude who mows my lawn looking for a 'loan.'

indiana State Fair day 9 - 2010 edition

It was a short visit to the State Fair - read all about by clicking here.

russel settle 1918 - 2010

As you know I've worked at the Red Key Tavern for eight years and adore it and the owner Russel Settle.

Russ died on Easter Sunday. He was 92.

I could tell Russ stories all day - and have been all week. After he retired at age 87 from working six nights a week, ten or so hours a night, Russ would still come to the bar and make sure we were doing it all right. I didn't feel like I was working unless he growled " Spitznogle did you turn on the light....ring up that beer....have them hang up their coat.....?" or whatever caught his eye.

He started getting a hamburger to take home. I took great delight in drawing pictures on the paper bag that I'd put his sandwich in. If you've ever seen me draw you know that I can goof up a stick figure. Often I'd have to write a note explaining what I was trying to draw. For his birthday and holidays I'd get extra-fancy and add glitter or cutout photos. His daughter told me that he had a stack of those bags and would let anyone use them.

I loved walking Russ out to his car. Sometimes I'd need to give his bum a little boost to walk up the tall back step. I walked him out on Saturday and we chatted in sunlight. I asked if he would wait while I grabbed my camera. I fully expected him to have driven off in the time it took me to run back in to fetch it. He was still standing there and I snapped the photo above, gave him a kiss on the cheek and sent him on his way.

Click here to read the NUVO piece I wrote about Russ.

christmas eve at the red key (holiday party #12)

I went to work this morning, even though I didn't sleep much after last night's drama. I knew that Dad would be at Second Helpings for his regular volunteer shift. I needed a Dad hug and knew that he'd float me a loan.

Everyone has been incredibly kind and generous. I worked until 2:00 and spent the afternoon replacing my locks (I did it myself!), phone and lip balm.

Walking in to the Red Key was like walking in to a group hug. Everyone was full of concern and good wishes. My stocking had some extra goodies - a little purse and coin bag. And I got the best present ever - a leg lamp! It is so cool! I'd just been watching the Christmas Story as I changed my locks. It's proudly displayed in my window at home, with the soft electric glow of sex for all the neighborhood to see.

As much as I wanted to stay for the carolling, it was time for the next party.

Emi took some great photos - see them here.
Here is last year's post.

red key bake sale (holiday party #7)

Maureen Webb Cox and her crew out did themselves this year. They raised over $1400.00 for the Red Key Ceiling fund that benefits the Children's Bureau. I made two batches of English Toffee for my contribution. It was fun to do some real cooking on my 'new' stove. 

I got to take home a plate of wonderful peanut butter cookies with kisses. I was good and only ate one and stuck the rest in the freezer. Not that the temptation to heat up the oven and warm one up is not there!

Here is last year's recap. 

Good job Moe!

cinderella saturday

I want to start out by saying that I love working at the Red Key. Not only is it a fun, social, three-blocks from my home job but the money allows me to do things like travel to Ireland, heat the house and pay the mortgage. I've never once apologized or felt embarrassed about waitressing or working in a bar.

That said, working most Saturdays I've missed my fair share of stuff. This Saturday I felt extra Cinderella-like. I've had the last two weeks off - I really needed to work tonight and I've exhausted my options for getting my shift covered.

Today is the Broad Ripple Music Fest. And I am the music columnist for the Broad Ripple Gazette - hummmm, maybe I should be there. The festival matches venues with nonprofits and two places picked Second Helpings adding another layer of guilt.

I raced around the village seeing as much music as possible before 5:00 and stopping in to the two venues to talk about Second Helpings and to thank the volunteers running those stages. The night turned in to one of those excruciating ones that happen every year or so. Not only did the cool kids and lots of musicians come in, which I typically love, but every yea-hoo in town darkened our door.

The Red Key is a family owned bar - wonderful. I'm not a member of the family - not that I wouldn't be honored to be related to Russel, but I'm not his daughter. A customer tonight argued that point for quite a while tonight. Ugggh, seriously - would I choose Spitznogle as an alias?

I am the waitress and the cook and a lot of times I'm making the drinks too. I've worked at the Key for five years and I've got a bit of a routine. Except no one else was playing with my rules tonight. Gette posted this nice little insight in to the world of waitressing. In my crabbiness tonight I thought I'd expound on her list a little bit.

1. We have a business relationship. I am the employee and you are the customer. I can't give you free drinks or food, it is not mine to give away.

2. Just because I'm waiting on you does not mean that I'm stupid. Waitressing is hard work -not only is it physical but it stretches your brain. I've got all of the drink and food prices stored in there, the location of thirty beers and hundreds of liquor bottles and the recipes of thousands of drink combinations and what glass they are served in, I can do math in my head (two beers + a cheeseburger deluxe+ chips + cashews = $12.25), I remember who is sitting where and most likely I remember what you drank that last time you came in and whether or not you like onions.

3. I'm happy to tell you my name and usually throw it in when I'm delivering your first round of drinks. If you're going to ask me my name it is good manners to offer yours at the same time. Tonight a guy made a huge deal of asking my name and then proceed to call my Lora the whole whole evening, even after his friends corrected him. That same guy whipped a bottle cozy out and wrapped his beer in it. I couldn't tell whether his beer was low without picking it up. I asked him every single time I passed by if he needed another drink. He waited until I'd walked away from his table to shout LORA I NEED ANOTHER BEER as I was waiting on other tables. I never did learn his name, but he was wearing the moniker Asshat while he was there.

4. I'm not standing over your cubicle telling you how to do your job. I'm just saying.

5. If you don't see me for a few minutes chances are I'm cooking your food or taking out the trash. I'm not smoking by the dumpster or eating the last order of potato salad, swear.

I'm out of steam and ready for bed- you're spared any more ranting.

Phew.

indiana state fair day 11

I missed going to the state fair on day 10. I was supposed to be in New York City and that trip was postponed earlier in the week. I looked at going to the Irish Festival in Milwaukee to meet up with my Ireland traveling companions, but that got too complicated. Five whole days off and a plane ticket and I couldn't figure out what to do!

I decided to stay at home. I can't remember the last time I even had two whole days off from all of my jobs. Thursday was spent at the fair with Ann, getting a hair cut, sitting on a park bench talking to a friend for hours, watching the last season of Sex And The City and reading a fluffy book.

By Friday I didn't know how to act and couldn't get it together enough to leave the house before 2:00 in the afternoon. I ran to the Glendale library to display some more PEZ (thanks Erin!) and was so tuckered out that I took a two hour nap. And I opted for Sausage Fest for my evening activity.

My friend David suggested that I pretend that I was out of town and even sent me photographs of NYC to help with the ruse. In the end I just couldn't do it. I was getting a little stir crazy.

I picked my Saturday waitressing shift at the Red Key back up, I'm sure by the time I had a third day off I wouldn't have had the energy to leave the house.

I was on a mission with this trip to the fair. I was there for the express purpose of getting dinner for Jake (my co-worker) and Russel (the owner, celebrating his 90 1/2 birthday) and me.

This has become an annual tradition and I have it down to a science. I hopped on my bike at 4:10 and was walking in to the fair at 4:25 with cash, a cloth bag and a plan.


First stop: The Pork Tent for two pork chop sandwiches. Next stop: The Beef Tent for two ribeye sandwiches.

I usually have little side cups with lids, but my supply (leftover from the coffeehouse four years ago) is gone, so I had to take Dixie cups for the condiments.

Next stop: The Red Barn Elephant Ear stand for two Elephant Ears.

I was back on my bike at 4:35 and pedalling back down the trail.

Home and on my way to work by 5:00

Another successful visit to the fair.

indiana state fair day 8

I left work early and soaked in the sun at the Indianapolis Indians game. I forgot to take my camera with me, which was too bad. My brother, J.R. had one of the party decks to entertain clients and his hanger-on family. I was introducing myself to someone when I heard a voice behind me say, “And I’m her Godfather.” I swung around to see my actual Godfather. Which was quite a surprise since he lives in Decatur, Illinois.

I had really been looking forward to this night at the fair. Garrison Keillor’s Rhubarb Tour was in town and I’d invited my friend, Kipp to go with me.

Believe it or not, but there was a building I had not been in yet. The Farm Bureau Building housed this giant diorama of farm scene.

We had a grand time looking at tractors, eating grilled cheese sandwiches and corn on the cob and pointing out our favorite things about the fair.



I always enjoy the Garrison Keiller Rhubarb Tour variety show. This year’s version featured the very talented singer Suzy Bogguss.

The real highlight of the evening for me was how wonderful the weather was. I was really enjoying hearing the sounds of the fair layered with the music from the show. The sunset was amazing and there was a nice breeze wafting through the grandstand. It was defiantly one of those close to God moments for me—the overwhelming feeling that washes over me occasionally, realizing how amazing this world and my life is.


We were pretty far from the stage. I realize how spoiled I am about being able to see bands up close. Not because I always have great seats, but because I’m usually only a handful of people in the audience. The pedal steel player, Joe Savage was excellent. I was happy to see such a big crowd – and I challenge them to go see live music in the next month.

I’ve never had a funnel cake and we searched the Midway for a funnel cake stand. The one we found had a funky smell surrounding it. I can justify the smell of poo near the swine barn, but not on the midway.

My column in the Broad Ripple Gazette is called Buzzing Around Town. I've had my photograph taken in the bee ride at the fair before, but I've never been happy with them. I always feel too self-conscious and the photographer always only takes a few pictures. Kipp did a great job of snapping a ton of photographs.

I know they guy running the ride thought we were a little nuts. A woman on a kiddie ride and a guy taking photos at 11:00 at night.

We wound up with an elephant ear, instead of a funnel cake, which was just fine by me.

Fried pillowy doughy goodness.


Slathered with butter and dusted with cinnamon and sugar.

And when I say dusted I don’t mean the delicate dusting of your great-aunt’s Hummel figurines; I mean crop-dusted, laying it on thick dusting. And it was delicious.


I suggested that we get an extra elephant ear to take to Lana at the Red Key.

Once there, I suggested a post-fair drink. Kipp drinks a very sophisticated cocktail, a Manhattan. I decided to have one too. As much as I like whiskey, I did not love the Manhattan. Which was unfortunate, especially for Kipp.

I was telling a story, ironically about talking with my hands and someone who openly mocks me for that. As I was making the point that I don’t really talk with my hands I knocked my drink – with a sweeping hand motion, into Kipp’s lap.

It was a perfect shot.

Kipp was charming and didn't make a big deal about it, but I know that I’ll be apologizing for that, well, forever.

I've been practicing sitting on my hands and talking.

indiana state fair day 4

I almost didn't make it to the fair today, but you know how I love having a theme to blog about.

After Scott and I got home from the fair last night (10:45-ish) I washed my face and drove to Broad Ripple for a Second Friday, Second Helpings concert. I didn't get home until after 2:00. 

I had to meet a repair man at Second Helpings at 6:30. I'm sure that you're not surprised that I threw on the same jeans and top I'd been wearing the night before to drive downtown. I got a lot of work done at my desk (including the previous post). I gave a tour to a group at 9:30 and got them started in the kitchen. 

From there I swung by a friend's yard sale, dumped off my recycling and deposited a check. I contemplated going home for a nap, but made myself go grocery shopping. This dieting crap requires healthy food, right? I promised myself that I could be sleeping with in the hour. 

I walked out with a watermelon, asparagus, yogurt and bananas. I set my bag in the back of my truck and fumbled for my keys. The keys that were still dangling from the ignition. F dash dash dash. I was hot, exhausted and pissed off. And I had my sound system in the back of the truck. I'd stuck the PA, the box of cords and the microphones on the drivers seat while I was in the store. The speakers, speaker stands and mic stands were in the back. With the recycling bins and a watermelon rolling around. 

Once I calmed down I realized that I could walk to the Hostel (1.5 miles) and get my spare keys, and then ride my bike back. I called John to ask if he had the keys (from the basement project). He had them . In his hands. In Nashville, TN. I must confess to being a bit crabby to John. 

F-DASH-DASH-DASH!!! 

The sound system I was hauling around was for a band that was playing at the Hostel. John would not be back until 6:00-ish. I had be at work at the Red Key at 5:00. 

I called Heck of a Gal for a ride, thinking that we could drop off the speakers and my groceries and I could nap in the hammock or break in to my house. 

As I was pouting and beating myself up I realized that the drivers side window was down a few inches. I could stick my skinny little wrist through it, but no way could I turn my arm enough to lift up the lock. 

I put my MacGyver hat on, ran in to the deli and asked to borrow at stainless steel ladle. I had to do a lot of convincing and even offered to buy it. It worked. I was able to stick the bowl part and twist the handle though the opening. I was able to pull up the lock. Wheeeeee!

I was so relieved that I went home and loaded 30 chairs in to the truck and unloaded them and the sound system at the Hostel. In the heat. I did some serious debating with myself and headed to the fair anyway. 

The fair contracts with the Deaf School to used their grounds for parking. I like parking there, it is easy to get out and its on the close to home side of the grounds. 

I also like making the occasional trip to the fair by myself. The FFA kids run a store that is stocked with Indiana products. I love poking around there. I bought some Ball Jar products and my very favorite caramels. 

I checked out the fiddle contest and found a bevy of fair queens. 

I don't think they're counting Weight Watchers points. 

Here are the winners from the annual fiddle contest.

I walked over the brand spankin' new covered bridge. 

We like our corn in Indiana. 

The sky looked like it might rain, but it never did. So far the fair weather has been perfect.

Todays fair food: Grilled cheese sandwich from the Dairy Barn. They have a sandwich this year. It sure was Gouda!

I walked out of the fair grounds toward the Deaf School. I veered off of the sidewalk and walked toward where the truck was. I came to a 3 foot chain link fence and realized that I should have stayed on the sidewalk. Crap. I walked along the fence row and saw that I'd have to back track quite a way. A young couple had done the same thing. They suggested that we jump the fence. I was frustrated enough to do it. Ha! 

You know what happened next. My truck was actually in the fenced in part. I'd walked by it. I had to jump the damn thing again. 

I finally made it home and took a big fat nap. 

I was late to work because I sliced my little finger on the cellophane wrap box packing a healthy dinner and I was out of whack all night. I broke a glass - only the second in the five years I've worked there. I brought the wrong drinks and had to keep confirming what food people ordered - and since I'm the waitress and the cook, timing is everything. 

A friend came in and I was telling her how off kilter I was. I tapped my forehead with the end of my pen as I was talking. As it turned out, the ink end of the pen. I'd written on my forehead. I guess I'm lucky that I didn't poke my eye. 

Tomorrow is another [state fair] day. 

you never know how the day will end, pt. 2

Nora and Susan Cowsill at the Red Key 

To see a young groovy Susan on the Johnny Cash show, click here. 

To see an even groovier Susan click here. 

Wednesday, July 2, 2002