The latest amusing anecdote (which might need an antidote) with a hotel guest:
A guest who might be staying at the hotel (he did not come in for breakfast and I wasn't there last night to check him in but he did have a large cooler in the kitchen so who really knows if he stayed there last night or not) came in around noon to get said cooler. He was a really big man, maybe six and a half feet and maybe 300 pounds. Really big body, little tiny head. He comes to the desk and wants to check on his cooler and the ice level.
We go to the cooler. The bags of ice have melted, of course. (I guess the cooler has been there since mid-day yesterday and it was very hot.) So he wants more ice. But before that, he wants to empty out the melted ice, aka water. He assumes I will help him. I am trapped into submission. We go outside. He starts hauling plastic bags of somewhat cooked beef brisket out of the cooler and without asking, hands them to me. One, two, three, four, five, six briskets, in wet plastic bags, not closed so the briskets are sticking out of the top. I am so flummoxed by his automatic assumption that I will be Brisket Girl that I just keep taking the proffered briskets until I can hold no more. When I say "Oh, I can't hold anymore" he says "Well, let's just set the rest of them on the ground." I want to say "So then why am I holding what feels like 40 pounds of brisket?" But I don't.
He dumps out the water. I am juggling briskets. They are slippery in their wet bags. They are perilously close to flopping out of the bags and directly onto the pathway on which we are standing. I am not caring about that, I just don't want to get beef schmutz on my clothes. He doesn't seem to notice any of this, he is simply intent on dumping out water. He shakes the cooler. My arms are shaking.
I say "so, let's put these back into the cooler" and he says "oh, no, we need a layer of ice on the bottom. Can you fill up these bags with ice?" and I have no sarcastic retort, such as "oh sure, Mr. Tiny Head, here, you hold out your strong manly arms and you take these pounds of brisket while I fetch ice like a willing servant!"
I do not say anything like that. I just say "OK" and continue to hold the beef. Lots of beef.
(Let me say right now that I love BBQ brisket. I wanted to take one of those puppies and hide it under my skirt but I wasn't wearing a skirt so that would not have worked. But this is in no way a derisive comment about brisket.)
Finally, without saying a word, I convey to Mr. Tiny Head that I cannot get ice with 40 pounds of beef in my arms and I sort of suggest that he plop the bags of brisket into a strangely contrived storage container (tin foil) and then I can get him more ice. We successfully accomplish that task. The briskets were back in the cooler, the ice was refreshed, Mr. Tiny Head rolled his wheeled cooler away and I did not have beef brisket schmutz on me. All in all, a fulfilling exercise in weird hospitality.
And the really happy thing is that I think Mr. Tiny Head will show up at breakfast tomorrow no doubt with Mr. Potato Head in tow and maybe even Gumby and Pokey. I can hardly wait! I seriously hope he brings me leftover brisket but I am pretty sure that will not happen. Oh well.
.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Book: "The Divers Clothes Lie Empty"
Recently released, this book hasn't hit the big time yet but it probably will. It has garnered good reviews, it's an intriguing tale and it's not a long, tedious slog. All merit points.
It was on my library list early (there are now more than 90 holds on it) and since I had Friday off (yesterday) I started it with my morning coffee. I finished it before lunch. About 200 pages, it's a quick read. The book is written in the second person, something I normally avoid like talk of the Rapture, but for some reason it moves the story along really well. Second person prose usually seems too gimmicky for me: "you exit the dressing room and wait for the elevator. When it arrives you step inside and press ten." But since this book is all about one woman's strange journey and her lost identity, it works. You, the reader, sort of feel like you are that woman, that they are talking about you.
The book is preposterous in a way, the circumstantial mishaps the protagonist experiences would never really happen, but reading is about suspending disbelief at times, so you go with it. You want to see how she will get out of this mess, if she will be safe or land in some dangerous situation, if anyone will come to her rescue or recognize her screen of lies. From the beginning there is a hint of a major betrayal that happened in the past but the reader doesn't find out about it until near the end of the book and then it explains a great deal about why the main character is so out of touch with reality.
It's a good read. The concepts of what constitute identity, who we are without our traditional trappings and what do we really need in order to feel ourselves are well woven into the story. It is set in North Africa and like the markets in that country (which I have visited), the narrative leads you down one winding path after another until you are lost in the maze and have no choice but to keep reading in order to figure out how it all ends.
THE DIVER'S CLOTHES LIE EMPTY by Vendela Vida.
It was on my library list early (there are now more than 90 holds on it) and since I had Friday off (yesterday) I started it with my morning coffee. I finished it before lunch. About 200 pages, it's a quick read. The book is written in the second person, something I normally avoid like talk of the Rapture, but for some reason it moves the story along really well. Second person prose usually seems too gimmicky for me: "you exit the dressing room and wait for the elevator. When it arrives you step inside and press ten." But since this book is all about one woman's strange journey and her lost identity, it works. You, the reader, sort of feel like you are that woman, that they are talking about you.
The book is preposterous in a way, the circumstantial mishaps the protagonist experiences would never really happen, but reading is about suspending disbelief at times, so you go with it. You want to see how she will get out of this mess, if she will be safe or land in some dangerous situation, if anyone will come to her rescue or recognize her screen of lies. From the beginning there is a hint of a major betrayal that happened in the past but the reader doesn't find out about it until near the end of the book and then it explains a great deal about why the main character is so out of touch with reality.
It's a good read. The concepts of what constitute identity, who we are without our traditional trappings and what do we really need in order to feel ourselves are well woven into the story. It is set in North Africa and like the markets in that country (which I have visited), the narrative leads you down one winding path after another until you are lost in the maze and have no choice but to keep reading in order to figure out how it all ends.
THE DIVER'S CLOTHES LIE EMPTY by Vendela Vida.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Movie: "Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation"
OK, when I first wrote that title up there, I had it spelled "rouge" nation. Then I looked at it and had to laugh. Rouge Nation would be a totally different movie, wouldn't it? A land of cherry-cheeked criminals, an impossible mission at best.
But I digress. The newest Mission Impossible movie is actually great fun. I am not a huge MI fan, at least not since the TV series in the late 1960's. I saw the first movie of the series in 1996 and liked it. The rest didn't hold a lot of interest to me, so I probably saw parts of them on television but I don't remember much of them.
However, yesterday was Steve's birthday and he wanted to go to the movies and so I let him pick the movie (and I even paid his way!) and thus we were in the theater watching Tom Cruise (who I don't like that much either) as Ethan Hunt trying to resurrect his rogue espionage group**. To tell you the truth, it was totally worth the $6.75 ticket! Lots of chases, one on motorcycles that was incredible, lots of stunts, lots of gadgets. And there was a lot of humor as well, which served the movie well. Plus, as an added bonus, we get Alec Baldwin as theincompetent idiot blusteringly righteous leader of the CIA. His role is small but he is delightfully nasty in every scene.
Good cast, lots of MI surprises that one shouldn't be surprised about, a little slow in the middle but seeing it on the big screen, with really good sound that seemed to come up through the floor, it was a treat. Two thumbs up. Check it out.
** Again, rescuing a rouge espionage group has it's merits and it's a movie script that I might have to write.
.
But I digress. The newest Mission Impossible movie is actually great fun. I am not a huge MI fan, at least not since the TV series in the late 1960's. I saw the first movie of the series in 1996 and liked it. The rest didn't hold a lot of interest to me, so I probably saw parts of them on television but I don't remember much of them.
However, yesterday was Steve's birthday and he wanted to go to the movies and so I let him pick the movie (and I even paid his way!) and thus we were in the theater watching Tom Cruise (who I don't like that much either) as Ethan Hunt trying to resurrect his rogue espionage group**. To tell you the truth, it was totally worth the $6.75 ticket! Lots of chases, one on motorcycles that was incredible, lots of stunts, lots of gadgets. And there was a lot of humor as well, which served the movie well. Plus, as an added bonus, we get Alec Baldwin as the
Good cast, lots of MI surprises that one shouldn't be surprised about, a little slow in the middle but seeing it on the big screen, with really good sound that seemed to come up through the floor, it was a treat. Two thumbs up. Check it out.
** Again, rescuing a rouge espionage group has it's merits and it's a movie script that I might have to write.
.
Friday, August 21, 2015
The Wild Trees
This book, by Richard Preston, is worth buying, reading and passing along. "The Wild Trees" is a love story of sorts about huge redwood trees, mostly in northern California, along the coast. A small group of adventurous young men and women decided to find the tallest tree in the world and climb it. It's a great story, a short book, an easy read and incredibly informative.
In Humboldt county there are stands of redwood trees that have been almost unexplored and their location is a guarded secret. These trees are thousands of years old and have their own tree culture. Until these climbers ascended into the redwoods, no one knew what was at the top of the trees: canopies thick enough to walk on, small gardens of bonsai buckeye trees growing in soil 350 feet above the ground, salamanders and insects not found anywhere else except at the top of the trees. Redwoods have been on the earth for over 60 million years, have survived the climate that killed off the dinosaurs.
This book was written 8 years ago so it is easy to find in paperback, or get it out of the library. You can read it in a couple of days and it will make you want to get in your car and visit a redwood grove. It's a very fine book.
In Humboldt county there are stands of redwood trees that have been almost unexplored and their location is a guarded secret. These trees are thousands of years old and have their own tree culture. Until these climbers ascended into the redwoods, no one knew what was at the top of the trees: canopies thick enough to walk on, small gardens of bonsai buckeye trees growing in soil 350 feet above the ground, salamanders and insects not found anywhere else except at the top of the trees. Redwoods have been on the earth for over 60 million years, have survived the climate that killed off the dinosaurs.
This book was written 8 years ago so it is easy to find in paperback, or get it out of the library. You can read it in a couple of days and it will make you want to get in your car and visit a redwood grove. It's a very fine book.
Wondering about the future
Wednesday was my Mom's 95th birthday. She had a minor fall a few days before that (but honestly, nothing is minor when you are 95) and her back was one big bruise and she was in pain whenever she moved. Five of her six kids and three grandkids and a couple of friends took her out to a local place for pizza and salad and wine. Not really a big celebration, but we needed a place to meet and they had a private room and it actually turned out fine. Well, it was fine for us, but not that fine for Mom. She just didn't want to do anything, but we sort of forced her to celebrate her birthday.
Long story short, it wasn't the most pleasant of days. It was great to have all of us together but it was exhausting dealing with Mom because she didn't want to move and every thing out of her mouth was sad and morose and depressing. It was certainly exhausting for her. Yes, she smiled a couple of times, but not nearly enough.
We all look at our selves and see the aging process at work. It doesn't matter if you are 30 or 75, that process is there. Who wants to be 95 and be in pain and have no recourse but to slog through another day, another week, another year? No one, of course. Even if the Assisted Suicide Law was in place in California (as it will be sometime in the next few years) many people wouldn't take advantage of that law to help them exit gracefully. My Mom wouldn't because she believes that it is killing yourself and then you would go to hell, as the Catholic doctrine teaches.
But there are many of us who really, really hope that law is in place for us when we need it. Living without a future is no life. Living without joy is no life. Yes, it is very subjective but we are humans and subjectivity is part of our mental and emotional constitution. We should be the judges of how long we want to continue living.
At 65 I am still physically able to do most everything I want to do but financially unable to do so and thus I need to continue to work. But that statement almost begs the question: why not do the things I want to do now, while I can, instead of making work the bigger priority? Well, there is the money issue and for me there will always be the money issue. How irresponsible would it be to cut back on work and thus earn less money but do more of the things I want to do while I can physically do them?
It's a dilemma, one that I ponder more and more. Today, driving home, I just wanted to keep driving, to go north to the redwoods in Humboldt county, to breath piney air. But work calls. But so do those redwoods. Work wins today but I want the redwoods to win more often.
.
Long story short, it wasn't the most pleasant of days. It was great to have all of us together but it was exhausting dealing with Mom because she didn't want to move and every thing out of her mouth was sad and morose and depressing. It was certainly exhausting for her. Yes, she smiled a couple of times, but not nearly enough.
We all look at our selves and see the aging process at work. It doesn't matter if you are 30 or 75, that process is there. Who wants to be 95 and be in pain and have no recourse but to slog through another day, another week, another year? No one, of course. Even if the Assisted Suicide Law was in place in California (as it will be sometime in the next few years) many people wouldn't take advantage of that law to help them exit gracefully. My Mom wouldn't because she believes that it is killing yourself and then you would go to hell, as the Catholic doctrine teaches.
But there are many of us who really, really hope that law is in place for us when we need it. Living without a future is no life. Living without joy is no life. Yes, it is very subjective but we are humans and subjectivity is part of our mental and emotional constitution. We should be the judges of how long we want to continue living.
At 65 I am still physically able to do most everything I want to do but financially unable to do so and thus I need to continue to work. But that statement almost begs the question: why not do the things I want to do now, while I can, instead of making work the bigger priority? Well, there is the money issue and for me there will always be the money issue. How irresponsible would it be to cut back on work and thus earn less money but do more of the things I want to do while I can physically do them?
It's a dilemma, one that I ponder more and more. Today, driving home, I just wanted to keep driving, to go north to the redwoods in Humboldt county, to breath piney air. But work calls. But so do those redwoods. Work wins today but I want the redwoods to win more often.
.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Mediocre food but in a good way
Every two weeks or so Tom and I meet up in Petaluma for dinner. We have tried several times to go to Mi Pueblo for Mexican food but the place is mobbed, no matter when we get there and we have no patience for waiting outside to hear our name called for a table. Too old for that.
So we go somewhere else. Often we end up at Dempsey's which is a fine choice because we don't care to sit outside at 6:15 in the evening when it is hot and crowded and the beautiful people with their tank tops and tans are taking the tented tables, we are happy with a large booth inside. The menu has enough choices and the prices are good and they leave us alone and we are happy. The food at Dempsey's is above mediocre, it is always good to better than good, but a person (or two persons) needs a change now and then.
Tonight was Mediocre Thai Food. Nothing bad. My pad thai was OK enough to bring home, although tomorrow I will saute some onions, sliced snow peas, mushrooms and add some heat and then toss the noodles into the pan and have it for dinner. But here's the thing: Tom and I LOVE really good food. We have, in the past, taken the ferry into SF and spent buckets of bucks at Boulevard (still one of my SF faves) and we never batted an eye over the money. We had tickets to the SF Symphony and we would eat at Jardiniere before the music and spend tons of money and be happy about it. It's not like we won't spend money on excellent food.
But now, for some odd reason, neither of us cares to do that. (Don't let me fool you on this, if someone said "hey, how about I take you to Boulevard for dinner?" I would be saying YES before that last syllable left that person's mouth!) But we don't seem to care to spend that much at this moment. Tonight Tom put it succinctly: "I will spend the money in a foreign country on a dinner. But not here, not right now."
We work 6 (or 7 in Tom's case) days a week and we are simply tired. Put food in front of us. As long as it's decent, we will eat it and it's fine. As long as we did not cook it, as long as we do not have to clean up, it's fine. We are already tired and there are three more long, long months to slog through before the lodging business slows down. By then we will be ready for a really good meal, when we have the time and energy to actually enjoy the process.
Mediocre food is OK. It's not great. But it is expedient and usually pretty cheap. And the main reason we meet for dinner is to talk and catch up, so the food becomes secondary. Would I change clothes and go to a really good restaurant? Sure, if someone else was paying. Or I would even pay, gladly, if I was motivated to get motivated. But after being so "hospitable" and nice and kind and all that other crap that comes with the industry, the motivating factors are things like can I show up in my jeans? Do I have to wear shoes with heels or are flip-flops OK? Do I need to drive more than 30 minutes away? Will I be tired when I get home?
So, yes, I agree with Tom on this. Show me a great restaurant in December when I am not working, when I have a few weeks off, when I don't need to worry about getting up at 6:00 am the next morning, and I will pony up the money for an outstanding meal. If it is a foreign country, even better. Until then, ordinary is fine most of the time.
With the exception of a home cooked meal, that is. Those are always much more than ordinary. I am having dinner this Saturday at Steve's, he is cooking steak, I will make my incredible creamed corn and that meal will be much, much more than ordinary. Friends, steak, laughter and wine. For that I don't need to worry about what I wear. I just need to show up and be happy. That's fine dining.
.
So we go somewhere else. Often we end up at Dempsey's which is a fine choice because we don't care to sit outside at 6:15 in the evening when it is hot and crowded and the beautiful people with their tank tops and tans are taking the tented tables, we are happy with a large booth inside. The menu has enough choices and the prices are good and they leave us alone and we are happy. The food at Dempsey's is above mediocre, it is always good to better than good, but a person (or two persons) needs a change now and then.
Tonight was Mediocre Thai Food. Nothing bad. My pad thai was OK enough to bring home, although tomorrow I will saute some onions, sliced snow peas, mushrooms and add some heat and then toss the noodles into the pan and have it for dinner. But here's the thing: Tom and I LOVE really good food. We have, in the past, taken the ferry into SF and spent buckets of bucks at Boulevard (still one of my SF faves) and we never batted an eye over the money. We had tickets to the SF Symphony and we would eat at Jardiniere before the music and spend tons of money and be happy about it. It's not like we won't spend money on excellent food.
But now, for some odd reason, neither of us cares to do that. (Don't let me fool you on this, if someone said "hey, how about I take you to Boulevard for dinner?" I would be saying YES before that last syllable left that person's mouth!) But we don't seem to care to spend that much at this moment. Tonight Tom put it succinctly: "I will spend the money in a foreign country on a dinner. But not here, not right now."
We work 6 (or 7 in Tom's case) days a week and we are simply tired. Put food in front of us. As long as it's decent, we will eat it and it's fine. As long as we did not cook it, as long as we do not have to clean up, it's fine. We are already tired and there are three more long, long months to slog through before the lodging business slows down. By then we will be ready for a really good meal, when we have the time and energy to actually enjoy the process.
Mediocre food is OK. It's not great. But it is expedient and usually pretty cheap. And the main reason we meet for dinner is to talk and catch up, so the food becomes secondary. Would I change clothes and go to a really good restaurant? Sure, if someone else was paying. Or I would even pay, gladly, if I was motivated to get motivated. But after being so "hospitable" and nice and kind and all that other crap that comes with the industry, the motivating factors are things like can I show up in my jeans? Do I have to wear shoes with heels or are flip-flops OK? Do I need to drive more than 30 minutes away? Will I be tired when I get home?
So, yes, I agree with Tom on this. Show me a great restaurant in December when I am not working, when I have a few weeks off, when I don't need to worry about getting up at 6:00 am the next morning, and I will pony up the money for an outstanding meal. If it is a foreign country, even better. Until then, ordinary is fine most of the time.
With the exception of a home cooked meal, that is. Those are always much more than ordinary. I am having dinner this Saturday at Steve's, he is cooking steak, I will make my incredible creamed corn and that meal will be much, much more than ordinary. Friends, steak, laughter and wine. For that I don't need to worry about what I wear. I just need to show up and be happy. That's fine dining.
.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Two young French guys walk into a hotel....
Last night at the hotel where I work, two young French guys showed up to check in for a last minute booking. They were probably about 25 years old, cute as kittens, with that charming and sexy (no matter how old they are) French accent. They were on a six week trip around the West Coast, had been to Yosemite, Sequoia, SF, Monterey. Now they were heading north.
There are guests who are nice and fun, there are guests who are pains in the ass and there are guests you want to hang out with and be friends with. And then there are guests like these two guys, Matt and Tristan. (Tristan, honestly?) Totally different category. I just wanted to listen to them talk, all night long. They told me this story, as they were sitting by the fire pit, about getting stopped in SF because they made a left turn from the right lane, which "we do that all the time in Paris, we didn't even think about the wrongness of it!" And the cops pulled them over and yelled at them to "never, never drive in this city again." But Tristan then said "well, my cop was really cute so I was talking to him really nice but Matt's cop was Chinese and not cute and so no one was talking to him nice and the two cops sort of didn't like this, but I still liked my cute cop but it didn't work out." Who could not like this story, which ended with them having to stay in a "hooker hotel" which was all they could afford in SF but which they hated, of course?
When they invited me to have some wine with them at the fire pit, I declined, but when they invited me to dinner at their place in Paris, I said yes. Seriously charming.
.
There are guests who are nice and fun, there are guests who are pains in the ass and there are guests you want to hang out with and be friends with. And then there are guests like these two guys, Matt and Tristan. (Tristan, honestly?) Totally different category. I just wanted to listen to them talk, all night long. They told me this story, as they were sitting by the fire pit, about getting stopped in SF because they made a left turn from the right lane, which "we do that all the time in Paris, we didn't even think about the wrongness of it!" And the cops pulled them over and yelled at them to "never, never drive in this city again." But Tristan then said "well, my cop was really cute so I was talking to him really nice but Matt's cop was Chinese and not cute and so no one was talking to him nice and the two cops sort of didn't like this, but I still liked my cute cop but it didn't work out." Who could not like this story, which ended with them having to stay in a "hooker hotel" which was all they could afford in SF but which they hated, of course?
When they invited me to have some wine with them at the fire pit, I declined, but when they invited me to dinner at their place in Paris, I said yes. Seriously charming.
.
The daughter hits 42 years. We are still standing.
It's more that her Dad and I survived this many years! Jenn is amazingly brilliant and amazingly difficult but after 42 years we are numb to it all accepting of all her quirks. Some friends at the river had a party on Monday night and what a party those gay boys and girls can throw! Really nice and crazy people and great conversation and everyone brought salads, and there was white cake with chocolate frosting with sprinkles and chocolate cake with white frosting with sprinkles and cupcakes and I sure there were even more forbidden products later in the evening. John flew down from Oregon for the soiree and I think if you didn't count the parents, no one at the party was "straight" but they were all happy and much gaiety abounded.
One large burly guy came in wearing a tutu, but later I had a great conversation with him. He is one of the original members of the SF Gay Men's Chorus from over 35 years ago. (He must have been about five years old when he started, but hey, those boys do start early.) Mike told me about the kids who come to SF and to the yearly Gay Men's Chorus Convention, wherever it is held, to perform and how this is sometimes the first time they are publicly "out" and how the applause from the audience often makes them break down and cry. This Mike told me with tears in his eyes.
It was a very nice party. John and I were very happy to be there with Jenn, Dar, all their friends and everyone had a good time.
But really, 42 years? I am not sure how that happened. I am not sure I want to know how that happened, but it did.
.
One large burly guy came in wearing a tutu, but later I had a great conversation with him. He is one of the original members of the SF Gay Men's Chorus from over 35 years ago. (He must have been about five years old when he started, but hey, those boys do start early.) Mike told me about the kids who come to SF and to the yearly Gay Men's Chorus Convention, wherever it is held, to perform and how this is sometimes the first time they are publicly "out" and how the applause from the audience often makes them break down and cry. This Mike told me with tears in his eyes.
It was a very nice party. John and I were very happy to be there with Jenn, Dar, all their friends and everyone had a good time.
But really, 42 years? I am not sure how that happened. I am not sure I want to know how that happened, but it did.
.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Life Adjustments, Again
I suppose it's good that we continually are challenged in our day-to-day life, even as we get older. Maybe it's even better as we get older because it might prevent mental complacency and thus help us to be less boring than we already are. Who over the age of 60 does really, really exciting interesting things that others want to hear about? Not many of us. So we get boring, to ourselves and to others.
That's not to say that we are all boring. But if challenges didn't appear on a daily basis, our minds would atrophy a lot quicker than they are already. At least challenges and potholes and roadblocks keep us on our toes and necessitate the using of the brain.
Having given a great deal of thought to my incredible resistance to getting a roommate, it is clear to me that the entire thing boils down to this: I like living alone. Plain and simple. So this roommate situation is troublesome simply because of that fact. It isn't the roommate, it's me. (Well, it could be both.) Therefore, right now, I am trying to integrate having a stranger in my space with my need for no one in my space. It's a tough transition.
So far, only two days in, it's OK. More to be said as time goes by.
That's not to say that we are all boring. But if challenges didn't appear on a daily basis, our minds would atrophy a lot quicker than they are already. At least challenges and potholes and roadblocks keep us on our toes and necessitate the using of the brain.
Having given a great deal of thought to my incredible resistance to getting a roommate, it is clear to me that the entire thing boils down to this: I like living alone. Plain and simple. So this roommate situation is troublesome simply because of that fact. It isn't the roommate, it's me. (Well, it could be both.) Therefore, right now, I am trying to integrate having a stranger in my space with my need for no one in my space. It's a tough transition.
So far, only two days in, it's OK. More to be said as time goes by.
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