Tonight is my last barbecue, so I'm wearing a swimsuit under my uniform. I'm not sure if they'll haul me out tonight, or tomorrow which is my last official day. Who knows, they may chuck me in both nights. Won't that be fun?
I moved out of my apartment yesterday. My cats are hanging out in the vacant aviary at the grandparents' other house, and my stuff is in boxes. Goal for today, go through it all and get rid of half. At least. Every time I get back to my stuff, I need less of it. And it looks like I'll be moving at least twice more, and maybe three times in the next six months. The less I have to ship or carry the better.
I heard from Wycliffe. I'm trying to line up some sponsors through my church to cover some expenses while I'm gone ... Like my car payment and student loans. I understand that's pretty standard. On top of my presumed costuming job, I'm being considered for a movement role (that means modern dance, interpretively speaking) and perhaps the position of Restaurant manager on the road. I told them dance isn't my forte, but I've had some experience...I didn't mention the last time I had a dancing role I broke my foot mid-rehearsal and had to stand in the back for the rest of it. Since everyone seems to find me on this blog, I'm sure they'll know now.
Mom and I are heading back to Yakima Wednesday or Thursday. I fly out Saturday. Anyone of my Yakima buddies who want to see me before I take off, stop by! Maybe we can make a New Thai date.
Oh and a work story. My last for a while unless something exciting happens this weekend. I got in huge trouble the night before last. I walked through the other dining room with my arms full, and a notorious lady demands a milk. I apparently gave her "a look." (I'm sure I gave her "THE look." You know the one, Jeff.) So last night my manager gave me the proverbial slap on the hand and stuck me with the waitress that doesn't do anything. That was my punishment. The first table I went to, they didn't want anything, but a lady asked for milk in a plastic cup. With a lid. My manager was opening wine at the table, laughing. "Would you like 1%, 2% or whole?" Later my boss swore he didn't set that one up. Divine Retribution, that was.
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