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.