I have the best second job ever! Sit around all day and learn about antiques AND get paid to do it! Could life get better? Working 11 hour double shifts might just kill me off, but it's only for 6 weeks. I can survive!

I sang last night at Mrs. Fess Parker's salon. It was mostly old lounge and vegas singers from ages ago, but Bill was playing piano and wanted me to sing. Mrs. Parker asked me to come back and sing again (whew...I was worried I would get a "that was lovely, next!). Another lady that performed came up to talk to me afterwards. She's the president of an agency in LA and wants me to send her my headshot, resume, and a recording(Marked ATTN to her office even). I spent a little bit of time imagining myself with a Tony -- and then came to my senses. There are lots of agents out there -- and lots of them are crooks. I'll ask Bill about this one..he knows everybody.

I don't understand God some days. A long time ago He called me into service, but I took it the wrong way and ran. Now I've reached the point where I'm ready (I think) to hand it all back, and He's absolutely silent. What is He waiting for -- the rhetoric says "his own perfect timing." It's so frustrating somedays asking to be shown his will so I might follow it -- and getting nothing but silence on the other end. I love the story of Joseph. He spent most of his life in the dark -- literally and figuratively. In the end his faith outlasted the hardships. I wonder if mine is as strong. Nevermind, I know it isn't. I wonder if his was as strong as we imagine. Weren't there moments in the pit when he wondered what he'd done wrong to deserve this? He must have doubted. The only thing I can think is that God uses times of apparent silence to push our faith to new levels. Beyond the warm fuzzies that are easily forgotten when the week of camp ends and you're back to the daily grind. Is it a test to see how long we'll follow on blind faith? Or have I missed the nature of God entirely?

Pedersons Inn wants me to put on an after dinner recital. 30-40 minutes of music. hmmmmm. I'm going to do it -- but I need to hem a dress first. Should be in July. So far I've made $500 singing this summer -- Pedersons should bring in another $300. I'm going to sing at a winery tomorrow night. No pay -- its impromptu, but the owners spend tons of money each year supporting young artists.

I sang in the bar last night. When its late and the dining rooms are empty, I'll go in and goof off with Bill the pianist. Last night Bill wasn't there, but Hermann wanted me to sing with this child prodegy who comes in and plays. Tequila guy was hanging on the piano leering at her (poor girl -- he did that last night too), and asked if I was going to sing. I said, "I would be happy to. But you're in my spot." Boy did that feel good! Anyway, I sang, and Tequila guy and wine lady (his horrible wife) decided that I am "not exquisite (as she corrected another lady that came over to talk to me) but fabulous." Whatever. Maybe they'll actually tip now that they've decided I have talent. Wine lady was nice enough to tell me that I'm wasting my time this summer working here. I had to inform her that I have to work a "real job" in the summer so I can spend the year training. Anyway...it was fun. Bill is here tonight -- I need to find new songs to sing though -- I'm getting tired of the same three.

Another horrible guest

Me: What would you care to drink tonight?
Him: I'd like a (fill in the blank) tequila. Do you have that kind?
Me: I'm not sure...let me check for you. Our selection is pretty vast. Do you have a second choice if we don't carry it?
Him: (Gives two other random tequila names)...And as a cocktail waitress you should really KNOW what types of tequila you have.
Me: Yes sir.
-------- I leave to check on the tequila. We don't have any of the brands. The bartender chews me out for not knowing our selection. Then he gives me a quick list of all possible tequilas. More than a dozen------
Me: I'm sorry sir we don't have your tequilas, but here's what we do have. Would you like any of them?
Him: You don't HAVE them? I guess I'll have to take 1800 straight up. You know, you really should learn what you have.
Me: Yes sir.
--------- cut to the bar. I give the bartender the order ------
Sergio: 1800? That guy was in here an hour ago. He and I had this conversation.

Let me 'splain. No, let me sum up. The jerk picked three tequilas he ALREADY KNEW we didn't have, just to give me a hard time. ON PURPOSE. Aren't rich people wonderful? Since they don't have to work, the going theory is that they spend all their time thinking of ways to make our life miserable.

A guy is trying to ask me out. I've been avoiding him all night. Why is that? I moan and complain all year at Baylor that there's no one to date, and how sucky that is. Then I get all excited because I'm surrounded at work with eligable guys. Then one actually works up the courage to try to ask me out, and I run. Very strange.

And here's another reason why all Christians should be careful of how they act -- people are watching. There's a guy at work, very reminiscant of a guy I went to high school with. He's very outspoken, always planning bible studies, and he sings praise and worship everywhere. He also got fired from his church worship job for fooling around with a high school girl. Now he works with me. His makes all sorts of comments like "I hear you look hot in a swimsuit." Why is it the last person you want as the ambassador of your Faith is the loudest? And then other groups at work. They're rude to the waiters, condescending to the bussers, and overall demanding, pushy, overbearing and nasty. Then I walk up with a bottle of wine I've decanted for them -- in time to overhear a conversation about the Episcopal Church they attend. When the bill came they demanded a manager to erase their corkcage fees (they'd brought in two bottles), and didn't tip anyone. (I know i'm harping on the tipping thing) And that's the view the average person has of us. No wonder no one wants to go to church.

We have a snake that has made a home in dad's fountain/flower pot arrangement. We think its eating his frog chorus. I found it the other day. It had apparently gone off for an early-afternoon slither around the flower bed, and was returning to its evening abode when I happened to catch it winding its way up the extension cord to the fountain mechanism. It made a beeline to the largest flower pot...I can only assume its been living there for quite some time. That might explain the mysterious dissapearance of several of dad's goldfish. I went inside to tell mother not to go on the patio. She ran outside screaming, found a hose with a spray nozzle, and started deluging the flower pots. The snake beat a hasty retreat, and thirty minutes later I managed to coax the hose out of my mothers death grip. She doesn't like snakes. Not even cute mint green and black striped garden snakes. Not even large worms. After she left, I watched the snake casually slide back over into it's favorite pot. Now my mother yells at the flower pot in her spare time.

My sister and I have moved. To the outbuilding. Mother has decided that we are far to messy to be living in the house while she is trying to show it, so we have been effectively banished. It's not a bad arrangement, if Andrea and I can keep from killing each other for the next 6 weeks. She's a rather verbal morning person -- needless to say I am not; actually I'm a rather verbal night person...15 minutes before I pass out completely. That's the hard part about living alone. I have to talk to myself for 15 minutes before I go to sleep. Or I could just use the fact that I'm already awake and verbal to pray. On second thought however, even though my mouth is working at that point, my brain rarely every is. I think I'll leave off the praying to when I'm more coherent.

Have you ever had one of those days where everything seems off. I worked a split shift today, and both shifts were horrible. My timing was off all night, and I inevitably got to tables 10 seconds after the waitors had decided that I wasn't coming, and took the drink orders for me. Arrgh. On a more interesting side, Juan started wearing cologne to work. And he spends a good deal of time thanking me for my help, even though he's usually the one catching up on my work. And he keeps trying to trip me as I walk past. Can anyone who actually recognises flirting as a form of communication tell me if that's what he's doing? Oh, and when I sang in the bar tonight, he told me "I sing beautiful." Poor grammar, but the accent makes up for it.

Thank you Teri for leaving comments! Makes my day! (hint to the rest of you guys)

Check out Youth Advance! St. Albans Episcopal Youth Group's new weblog -- hosted by Aaron Dowdy!

Just got off work. I say that a lot don't I? Had another wretched table (Aaron, am I misusing wretched too? I've never checked to see if the majority of my big words are in context since no one calls me on it ;-) They asked for a wine list. I left for a couple of minutes since most people don't like having a waiter hovering. I came back a bit later, asked them if they'd chosen a wine, and the man said, Yes a long time ago. It went downhill from there. They mysteriously wanted both bottles opened at once. Then as I poured it, no one would tell me if they wanted any, but would get irate if I poured them wine that they didn't want. Then another lady brought in a bottle of wine and didn't want to pay the corkcage fee, and she wanted me to chill it for her, and she wanted an ice bucket for the table. Needless to say, they also didn't tip. Lovely people. Not everyone is that horrible (I almost wrote aweful, but I caught myself....really trying here....). I had a nice family who's little girl is taking voice. She's probably 13 or 14 and her last two pieces were: "O Mio Babbino Caro" (not too bad--I can sing it fairly easily) and "Un Bel Di" (yikes -- for those of you that know nothing about opera, Marjorie Owens could probably sing it, but I never would -- and if any random people are viewing this who don't know Marjorie -- check out the Houston Grand Opera website). Anyway...I smiled and told her that was "ambitious," which amazingly enough is exactly what VC said when I sang "Rejoice Greatly o Daughter of Zion" for my Baylor audition......hmmmmm....

I went to church this morning. Twice actually. Got the word last night that I was responsible for the anthem at 8:00 service at the Presbyterian church. So I got to sing and accompany myself (and my sister) on "Breathe" which I love, but my youth group never got into... anyway. I got in the car and dashed off to the 10 o clock service at St. Mark's Episcopal. Ahhhhhh....frighteningly enough the Episcopal church felt more like home than the Presbyterian one did. Maybe I should just be confirmed. Seems like a drastic step though -- I haven't covered ALL of the denominations yet. (To date I've been to or been influenced by: Puritan, Lutheran, Nazerene, Presbyterian, Episcopal, and a brief stint as a Pentocaustal, short lived though). I don't think God is denominationally tied, so why should I be? Maybe I'll be quaker next. Doesn't that sound cool? Or menonite and wear the plain dresses and the cunning little bonnets. Hmmm.....

I have no topic for this. I've just had an impromptu gathering at my house, or rather my hot tub. I made the mistake of lamenting to Manuel (one of the chefs) that my feet hurt, and I planned to go home and soak myself. He asked if he could come, and the next thing I know, I've invited half a dozen people to hot tub. 4 show up, plus my sister and myself. The boys brought corona. My mother was not impressed of course, but she didn't mind too much as long as my SISTER DIDN"T HAVE ANY. I didn't let her. You're welcome. (I know you're reading this Dad) I tried one. With lime. Not bad. Made it last and hour and forty five minutes. I'm not a fan of beer in general. Smells funny. It was fun -- probably not a party in the sense that they are used to, but at least I got to know the restaurant staff. Interesting that in a party of servers, cooks, and cocktail waitresses, the cocktail waitress knew the least about alcohol. Well, I would be a teetotaler if it wasn't for strawberry daquiris. Very tasty. Much better than corona -- even with lime. Maybe salt would help. I have the feeling that everyone is going to think I'm a lush now. I'm really not. Too much of a lightweight. We had a wine tasting today for the new house wines, and I had to ask Juan to finish my glasses because I sure as heck couldn't juggle orders with nearly a glass of wine under my belt. I dont' think I could walk with a glass of wine under my belt, much less get any for anyone else. Speaking of which -- let me put in a plea for all of the servers everywhere. Please tip generously. We work really hard, even when things are going slow. That usually means we're busy. We don't work for the wages, we work for the tips. It makes our day. On behalf of waitresses everywhere, goodnight. I have to serve BBQ tomorrow.

I've finally found a movie with Hugh Grant in it that he actually acts. Well, that goes to far. He acts exactly the same as he has in every movie -- but it's palatable this time. Sense and Sensibility. Very Good. Emma Thompson. Alan Rickman. You can't miss!

Oh, and my current total of "books I've bought since I've been home" is 27. Someone stop me......

I found a new book. Shocking I know. It's called the "Father Brown" series, by G. K. Chesterton. Check it out. And if you can't find it (it's rather out of print) then borrow my copy. Combine Sherlock Holmes with the Mitford Series.....that's what it's like. A must read! That's all for now....

I just heard from a friend that Mrs. Anders passed away. This woman and especially her family are amazing, and deserve recognition -- even if only here. Mrs. Anders had Multiple Sclerosis for almost two decades. Her husband is one of the bravest, most selfless man I've ever met. He raised both of their children, worked more than full time in a job that required hours of driving, and spent the rest of his time taking care of his wife, who quickly regressed to the point that she couldn't move, speak, or eat. She was determined to survive long enough to see her oldest daughter graduate. Crissie graduated in 1999. Crissie is to be married in September, and her son Chad graduates in 2003. I can't think of anything more to say in tribute that won't sound trite. They all are an amazing example of how hardships bring out the best in people.

More work nightmares. I was followed around today by a duo of 6-year-olds who decided my name was "Room Service." "Where are you going room service? Whatcha doin'?" They told me all about their day and learning how to swim, and how they got to see the horsies. I finally got away from them by pretending to join them in a game of 'run-around-the-room-screaming' and then making use of the nearest exit. Strange children.

The inevitable has happened. For all you music majors out there, do you remember how you had to learn to play "Happy Birthday" in 5 different keys. And we all thought, "yea right -- when will I be in the middle of a happy birthday emergency." Tonight our pianost took a break, and they wanted me to try to play it. She saved me just in the nick of time. Darn it, the music school wins again. One point for the list-of-hoop-jumping-activities-that-have-no-basis-in-real-life-club.

It's been an interesting three days...Matt and his mom kidnapped me and took me with them on their random trek through southern CA. It began with a near death experience as a car veered out of control on the freeway and came within inches of taking us out four times. All sorts of fun. Then onto Los Angeles. Saw Mann's Chinese Theater, the hollywood museum (Got my picture taken in Captain Picard's chair), and ate at a pizza place called "Earth, Wind and Flour." Ate with a nice Jewish family (friends of Matt), who I was worried about offending if I ordered Ham and pineapple toppings. Nope, they dug in too when it looked like the three of us at the other end weren't going to finish. The next morning we woke up too early and drove to San Fransisco for Matt's audition with the head of Merola. I was supposed to be dropped off en route, but the detour would have taken too long, so somehow I ended up heading 5 hours north -- and having to be at work 28 hours later. During Matt's audition, I got my reward for spontenaiety -- Brenda let me go to Nordstrom's half yearly sale -- bought a lovely new pair of shoes. Steve Madden. Red. 5 inch wooden platform heel. Brenda calls them "Barbie goes to woodshop." That evening we checked into a kitchy little hotel, and ate seafood at a restaurant with jellyfish on the walls. Then we got a call from a lady in Santa Ynez that she'd gotten us into an audition the next day in Santa Barbara at 10. So after 4 hours of sleep we were back in the car driving 5 1/2 hours south. Turned out that she'd gotten her days mixed up, and unless Matt and I decided to learn an instrument on the drive down there wasn't much chance of them wanting to hear us. Not much to do except drive back home, put on my uniform and go to work. Exhausted. Anyway -- that was the last three days!

I have been in the south too long. I went to Mannie's (my favorite mexican restaurant in town) to meet a guy for lunch. When I got there, not only did he not pull my chair out for me, he didn't even bother to stand up while I sat down. I stood behind my chair for a moment, and then realized that he wasn't going to do anything about it, and so I sat myself down. He did pay for the meal, which was nice of him. Afterwards he offered to drop me off at work so I could get my car. He walked around the side of the building, down a steep embankment and over several small concrete walls -- by the way very difficult to navigate in a long skirt and four inch platform shoes. Then we got to his car -- an SUV. He held out his clicker, unlocked the doors and got in. I'm left on the passenger side strangely ticked off that he didn't bother to open the door for me, and now I'm in the perilous predicament of how to catapult myself into my seat. (the irony here was 4 years ago I considered it the hight of self-sufficiency to be capable of managing that very task, with a broken foot no less). Anyway...how strange.....

Another day of work finished. More pretentious people. I really like my job -- just hate the people that come in. One man today wished to have a wine presentation (meaning he buys a non-house wine bottle and wants it poured correctly -- swishing and sniffing and all that). First he wanted to get my attention, so he stood half up and waved his arms like a soccer mom with a lost child. As I walked over he commented to the smugly dressed lady with him how slow the service is. Then he made snitty comments about servers in general as I was uncorking the bottle. Has anyone read in Jane Eyre where the entire house-party speaks of how horrible governesses are "for her benifit." It felt rather like that. So I finished the one bottle and brought the second. The man pointedly ignored me for nearly a minute as I stood there waiting for him to approve his wine choice. Then I had to open it -- and the darn cork broke. Terrific. I get a tirade about how corks only break if the wine is improperly stored (Actually it broke because I'm still fairly incompetant with a wine opener). Finally everyone at that table had wine, and his parting shot was to inquire why the other table didn't have wine yet. (Obviously because the server was busy serving his own freaking table...blech).



On the other side of things we had some new money in. Painfully new. Picture Molly Brown in the tea party. That kind of brash. She was wearing nice clothes that still managed to look like trailer trash, and her children's several hundred dollar dresses managed to look like Walmart Special. They came in loudly, tried to talk to guests at the next table, the children were running around screaming and climbing over things, and the woman kept making comments like "how does this menu work?" Pretty much like a normal menu. Anyway. Quite a contrast.

I dyed my hair today. Happened to be reading a book and lost track of time. My hair is once again neon carrot. I supposedly have a date on monday and I would prefer not to look as if I had a beauty treatment by Ronald McDonald. Too late now. I'm hoping that if I wash my hair enough times tomorrow some of it will fade out (if God is merciful). If God is not, I will have to start experimenting with various hat looks. I look terrible in hats. Actually, that's a lie. I look great in hats from 100 years ago. Huge hats with feathers and lace. MODERN hats make me look......rather...........dumb. Some people look sporty, or casual. I just look desperately silly.
The real problem isn't my hair though, it's what shall I wear. First date outfits are tricky (not that I'd know from personal experience). One wants to look nice, but not TOO nice. As if yes, you always look this good, but not that it takes any effort to do so. Don't want him thinking you're self absorbed right off the bat. Plenty of time for that later. So now I have to go plan out a perfect new outfit that doesn't look like I've bought it just for this occasion. Tricky.