umm...

Considering I have already posted once today. You all must surely know that I have nothing else to say. At least not really. This post about nothingness is prone to be less entertaining than those of a certain other wonderful writer who shall remain nameless for the moment. I daresay I cannot quite bring myself to just start writing with no turning back in any sort of public forum. I have several details I still like to keep to myself. Granted as of late my subject matter has been moving toward the more personal and I'm not entirely sure if this is a good thing yet or not. Time if nothing else will most assuredly tell.

In an attempt to keep myself typing and thus slowly render my brain numb the remainder of this post may be a good deal incoherent. I can guarantee there will be a good many tense shifts as there always are in my writing. The spelling will hopefully not be too atrocious because I will indeed be running the spell check on this post before it's published. But I fear that if I go back to read through for verb tense consistency I will delete the whole thing in light of its irrelevence and unimportance.

Mind you not many of the things I say on here are important, but this post seems to currently be on the top of the list. I mean honestly. I'm talking about verb tenses here. I have hit a very, very sad point in the material I have to draw from. So let us move onto a topic that is a bit more entertaining perhaps. What it is, I really have no clue. Just whatever happens to cross my mind. Hmm.....ok maybe not really.

Again, I like to keep a few things to myself so let's opt for the next thought. Something about ducks in the rain? No...I have nowhere to go with that. Randomness is not being much of an ally tonight. I can usually rely on her to distract people long enough that I may change the course of a conversation if it is going in an undesirable direction for me. Some of you know this and have caught on to my shameless ploy. Grr on you. She also serves me well in times when I have little or nothing to say. Alas, I have been let down.

You know, if I lived on my own I would not have a Christmas tree. There would be no decorations. There would be no lights. Nothing. Why? I really don't see the point. Sure it's cute and all, but what is the functionality of it? Part of it even saddens me. To see it all hanging there, so limp and lifeless. But perhaps I have never really been what you would call a "festive" person. Or at least if I ever was I cannot remember it. Sure as a child I enjoyed hanging the ornaments on the tree. I liked to look them over and recall where they came from and all the memories that accompanied their stay with us.

Anymore it doesn't seem like those memories are happy. Now they seem to be stained gray by the passage of time itself. Things then don't seem happy at all anymore. They just were. I wonder what once made them so happy for me. Ignorance? Denial? Or perhaps hope...

snowed in!!!

Here's the deal. Last night I went to Lil's place so she, Jimmy and I could exchange our Christmas gifts. Well perhaps I got there a bit closer to three. So in all accuracy I went to Lil's place yesterday afternoon. But that is beside the point....kind of. Anyway, before I got there I had to finish up a little shopping. Yes, it was insane to think at that point I could accomplish anything that involved driving a car considering how much snow was on the ground. Now if I was driving a snow plow that would be a different story entirely. But alas, I have no snow plow. Thus I was left to conquer the impending horde of snow in my little blue cavalier. But first, I had to broom off my car. Yes, broom off. It was that bad. Looking back, I wouldn't say the quickly advancing snow was conquered, at least not by me. No, rather it was braved. Braved at about 20 miles per hour.

After the remaining gifts were acquired I ventured further north to Lil's apartment. And it was still snowing. So much so that after three or four hours the accumulating snow had once again covered my car. By then the three of us were well into our Christmas festivities and enjoying the evening. After White Christmas had finished I took a peek outside to see if it was still snowing. It indeed was. There was no hope of me getting my car out. Right now I'm still here. Here being Lil's place. This morning my car was less accessable than it was last night. Right now I'm supposed to be at work. And I am feeling guilty. Arg. On the happier side of things I am snowed in with a couple great friends and quite a few good books (which the great friends gave me for Christmas). Having said that I feel like such an English major. Ah well.

driving home

I pulled onto Route 4 and followed it to I-75 like I do every night I leave Lil's apartment. I past the same street lamps and off-ramps I did the night before. Everything looked just as it always has. But this time there was something different about it. Something in the back of my mind that began to resound against the surrounding darkness...

"i know this road."

"Well, no duh. You drive it how often?"

"no...there's something else....something oddly familiar...
'you take I-70 to I-675 to I-75.' that's what he told me. when i asked how long it would be before we got home. that's what he told me."

And I remembered. I remembered what it was like to have to sit in the front seat. How my sister didn't want to sit there either, but one of us had to. How I wanted to be home. Right then. How I sat with my knees pressed against the car door, afraid to fall asleep. How I would watch the street lights go by and think of other things. Think of anything other than where I was sitting.

My fear of the enclosing night and what the twilight hides crept in again. I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, turned the music up a little louder and just tried to breathe.

Cafe: 3 Robin: 0

Alas, the wound tally has risen to three. I say this as I am bemoaning my own clumsiness. It's truly a wonder I can get out of bed without loosing a limb. That is the level of grace and poise we're talking about here, people. In my last post I failed to mention that as I removed the fiery wax paper from the toaster oven my hand collided with the inside of the toaster leaving a cute little burn spanning my first two knuckles. Today the coffee bin and box cutter decided to join in on the fun. While I was getting out the southern pecan decaf. beans the bin they occupied thought it would be best to sit on the floor. Or at least for the duration of the bean scooping. Afterwards it seemed content to return to the shelf it came from. But anyway... Who am I to argue with a coffee bin? So down it went. Since I am a novice in the handling of delicate and temperamental creatures, such as the coffee bin, it took a bit of a finger with it on its descent.

No more than an hour following this encounter I discovered the plastic forks had run out. Being the amazing spiderwoman I am I scaled a metal rack in the corner of the cafe and tossed a box of forks onto the floor below. (To ensure you all get the sarcasm that permeates the previous statement I'm including the next two points: 1.) As I mentioned before, I am quite clumsy. No agility here. 2.) I am completely, totally and utterly HORRIFIED of heights. It's a miracle I can climb a step-stool.) When dealing with any boxed supplies, which includes cups, java jackets, plastic utensils and the like, it's standard procedure to remove the cardboard flaps along the top. This prevents people from being snagged by the boxes as they walk past them. As I'm sure you have guessed, the box cutter I chose to use was feeling a little moody today. I must have picked it up the wrong way or held it tighter than it liked because before the last flap was detached I lost another bit of a finger.

I'm beginning to think a good deal of the cafe equipment is female. Ergo I'm going to invest in a pair of sturdy leather gloves to keep in my apron. No, really. I am.

wax paper + toaster oven = not good

Today began like any ordinary workday. People came into the cafe with money and left with coffee. A few left with a cookie or other sugary snack too. However, at some point this particular evening entertainment became a part of the package. We had run out of spinach and fetta croissants so a lady asked me to check in the fridge if we had any more. Now this fridge is not of the typical household variety. Oh no. It's the variety where you wouldn't be surprised to run into a small flock of penguins on your way to fetch the milk. It's absolutely HUGE. And there's a walk-in freezer in the back of it, which I like to think of as our own little slice of the Antarctic. I'm currently trying to convince our manager that a sled and some dogs wouldn't be a bad investment...but that's beside the point. Back to the gargantuan fridge. So I was looking through the boxes of muffins, scones and croissants and having no luck at all. There's not a spinach and fetta anything in sight.

The next step was to extend my search to the freezer. No, I wouldn't sell one straight out of the freezer to the poor hungry woman, I just thought that moving whatever was left of these things into the fridge would be a good idea. Nope. I was very wrong. You see, the box of spinach and fetta croissants was the second from the bottom on the top shelf. Naturally, I thought if I lifted up the boxes sitting on top of the one I wanted it would slip out with relatively no complications. Here was where the error in my thinking occurred. Slip out the box did, but not without complications. The boxes on top decided rather quickly to mutiny against this lone barista. The mutiny took the form of them falling onto the nearby lightbulb that stuck out of the freezer wall. The only lightbulb in the freezer. Not only did the plastic cover fall off the light but it took the glass part of the bulb with it, leaving the filament suspended on its wires in the wake of the unsettling cracking of glass.

Now just to make sure we're still on the same page, let's recap: I'm in the freezer. A ridiculously cold freezer. And now it's dark. Unbelievably dark. In one hand is the box of croissants I was looking for. In the other is the plastic light cover full of glass shards. OK. Back to the story...

With both of my hands full I kicked open the door and put the light cover on the shelf in the fridge with the boxes of various Minute Maid juices and the croissants on the bottom shelf with the other pastries. I headed back to the counter where the lady first inquired of our refrigerated supplies and informed her that there are no spinach and fetta croissants that aren't frozen at the moment. She settled on a ham and cheese one instead. I proceeded to place the croissant in the toaster oven to warm it up and directed her to the cash register where I could ring in her purchase. Soon the croissant was all toasty and ready to be eaten. Alas, both sets of tongs were in the sink in back. I couldn't touch the food with my bare hands (that's just not right) so I grabbed a piece of wax paper and figured I could nudge this thing out of the toaster and onto the plate.

All was going well until the wax paper came in contact with the bar in the bottom that heated up. And, oh dear, were the results attention getting. At first it was just a little corner of the paper that was smoking a bit. Granted a bit of fire accompanied that smoke, but I thought this to be no big deal. I'd just blow it out real quick and no one would notice. Oh no. Not that simple. At all. The fire was quickly consuming the wax paper and blowing on it was doing no good. So I moved on to waving it around. Still no good. Finally I threw the paper on the ground to stamp it out. But the paper didn't really plummet like it should, or at least how I envisioned it should. It kind of drifted, taking its merry time. Finally it hit the floor after what seemed like an eternity and I pounced all over that sucker. There was no way I was going to let anything else catch on fire. By now everyone in the cafe was watching me. And their mouths were hanging open.

Maybe I should look into a job in fire eating. Or at least twirling those batons you can set on fire...

nuthin'

Well, over the past few days I pondered posting about the random misadventures of this budding barista. One of which included the cafe running out of vanilla syrup. I'm sure many of you are now thinking, "What's significant about that?" In an effort to quickly quell such questions I will simply say that just about every frozen drink made at Joe Muggs requires vanilla syrup at one stage or another. Thus all frozen drink requests had to be nonchalantly denied. Due to the delay between these occurrences and my sitting down to write about them a certain element has been lost. Namely the humor. So...

I find myself with little to say. Being under Lil's "blogging often" list does require one to post, dare I say, often. So I shall attempt to faithfully fulfill this condition by posting weekly if not more frequently. Even when I have nothing to say.

will i bleed repentance
on the canvas of my pain?
will confession be my evidence
that i want to change?
or will it be a lip service
to persuade observant eyes
that i am my beloved's
and he is truly mine?
will i recite these pick-up lines
in hopes a one night stand
will prove to him he's not enough
that i need several men?
will he look past the words that drip
from off my whoring tongue?
will he turn to walk away
ashamed of all i've done?
or can he love this prostitute
i've let myself become?

cheerios?

It's late. Perhaps too late for someone running on as much sleep as I am to be up and at 'em. Nevertheless I am awake and truckin' along like nobody's business. Sitting at the computer chatting with a friend and eating cheerios. Yes. Cheerios. And it's not a bowl of cheerios mind you. Oh no. I am being my daring self and eating them STRAIGHT OUT OF THE BOX. This would be due to the lack of milk in the fridge, but by golly I am still munchin' away. They are the berry burst cheerios too. You know, the ones with the dried stawberries and bananas mixed in. Pretty tasty. Well, at least the strawberries are. The bananas kinda have the texture of styrofoam.