Sunday, September 25, 2011

No camera here at Adam's means no pictures of things like:

Serrano peppers stuffed with cream cheese (in which was mixed chopped cilantro and green onion, his idea) - which we will then tempura batter and deep fry (also his idea).

The windy fall day and the walk I took with Maggie the dog, down a lane and to the lake.

The couch I am lying on. In the basement, in the dark, even though it's so nice and sunny out. We are serious about our vegging. Adam is an Olympian relaxer. Even though the "bat cave" takes a little getting used to for an outdoorsy girl, it's pretty damn sweet to lie around all day with one's sweetheart.

These days I am waitressing a couple of nights a week. I like it. I like making banter with tables. I like learning the processes of the restaurant. I like that last night I said to the sous-chef, Jeff, "I'm going to be picking up my order in a second, just to let you know-" before going back out the swinging doors to the POS machine to click "pick up" on a table's order. (This is what you do when they're nearly done their appetizers and you want to make sure the kitchen has the mains ready.) When I first started a couple of weeks ago, I heard another waitress say something like that, and I thought, "Wow, there's no way I'll be able to do that!" To walk into the kitchen and talk competently about food and my tables while everyone else is listening, then turn around and go do something else useful, knowing where everything is and what needs to be done. Smiling while doing it. Breathing deep.

But, time passes and we get used to things. That's how we all roll.

One other thing: if you do nothing else as a Cape Breton writer this year, make it to the Cabot Trail Writers' Festival. It's amazing. I went last year and was blown away. Amazing writers teach workshops in intimate settings. You meet other writers and eat delicious, local-made food. There is a pub night with alphabet-shaped pretzels and jazz music. I'm planning to get a book of Johanna Skibsrud's poetry, as well as Alexander MacLeod's short story collection "Light Lifting", and get them both autographed.

Blog Archive