25 posts from September 2007

Ha ha, bet you thought I'd gone back to work at the pizza place, right?  LOL!  Not yet, but I'm not ruling it out. 

I made two pizzas last night, they were both amazing!  Hubby made the pizza dough in the bread machine and it was one third whole wheat.  So when the machine buzzed I got the dough out and wrestled with it for a while, finally working it into pizza shapes.  I wanted to hand toss them, but I’m not very good at it and the dough was too soft anyway.

The first pizza had tomato sauce made from tomatoes from our garden liberally laced with jalapenos from our garden and plenty of garlic (tsk – not from our garden.)  And on top of that I put some mozzarella cheese.  I sneaked the last of the ham from hubby’s breakfast making stash and put that on there.  I added some pineapple tidbits and green pepper rings and red onion curls (yep, pepper and onion from the garden) and some parmesan.  Then more Motz and freshly ground black pepper and popped that baby in the oven.  Yeah!

For the second pizza I didn’t use the tomato sauce but rather something I’ve seen them do at the pizza place.  They call it “white sauce” but for the life of me I can’t figure out why because it’s not white.  It’s a combination of really good olive oil, basil and garlic.  There may be more stuff in their version but that’s what I used for mine.  So I smeared that on the fresh dough so that the whole thing was coated.  The first layer of motz went on followed by finely cut spinach.  More cheese, fresh pepper rings, red onion circles, parmesan, and freshly ground black pepper.  When it was almost done I took it out of the oven and put on some shrimp left over from the shrimp and fettuccini I made last night and popped it back in the oven.  (Shrimp shouldn’t be over cooked.)  When it was done baking I added fresh tomatoes and feta cheese.  And yeah, it was goooood!  The shrimp already had some wonderful garlic and onion flavor on them, so each time you got to a shrimp on the pizza it was incredible!  YUMMY!

These two pizzas were simply my way of getting good pizza now that I don’t work at the pizza place anymore.  I’ve been craving the food, but they’re closed to move to the new location so I can’t go there and get anything anyway.  I think these two pizzas will go down in pizza making lore at my house though.  Mercy me, they were good!

There is another pizza that is already in lore at my house.  One night we cooked for both sets of parents – the parents and in-laws were all at our apartment.  This was years ago – at least a decade or so back.  We made a pizza that night and used a pizza sauce we had made from garden produce with plenty of kick from the jalapenos we grew.  Mercy, it had just the prefect amount of kick balanced with the other flavors and that pizza turned out beautifully.  As I remember it had lots of colorful stuff on it making it look really beautiful as well.  It’s to long ago to know what all was actually on the thing, but it was beautiful and really good.  It’s pretty amazing to remember one pizza for all these years but when everything comes together and you’re serving a meal to guests and it turns out that the food is pretty darn near perfect – well, that’s something I would remember. 

Speaking of pizza, writing about it made me hungry.  I’m going to go lay claim to one of those pieces with the shrimp on it.  Yummmmmm! 

I have a friend in my building who is moving out.  I’ve enjoyed his company a time or two, even worked for him briefly here and there.  So I helped him with some moving stuff since he’s leaving the building.  So he invited me to lunch.  I said sure.  So he made a phone call and asked what the soup of the day was.  They told him it was crab clam bisque and he told them to have table seventeen ready for him, he’d be there shortly.  First clue.

He’s a big burly guy with silver curls, twice my age and twice my weight.  He’s got a boyish grin, eyes set closely together in his head.  And he can use all that imposing six feet plus to terrify or charm.  He does impressions, accents and other goofiness.  He can be a delight to spend an hour with, if he’s in the right mood.  He can also be a complete brat.  He’s generally hurried and also generally on the phone.  I hate phones.  He’s ADD to an extensive degree and interrupts himself regularly.  I asked him to finish his sentence more than once.  He’s a private investigator who has a pretty skewed idea of humans which I struggle to disagree with.  Oh, and he’s wearing a jacket with lots of pockets (yeah, and a special gun pocket) and he hasn’t shaved in more than a week and hasn’t had a recent hair cut.  He’s been cleaning out his old office so he’s looking more scruffy than usual so the bits of dirt accentuate his general disheveled appearance.  I know this lunch is going to be an adventure.

So we entered the restaurant, and the hostess with a bright smile says “Hi Doc!” and tells him that table seventeen is taken and has been for hours.  He starts off saying that he’s going to rout them out, but upon entering the dining room decides on a different table.  We sit.  Waiter instantly appears.  Second waiter appears following the first.

Doc gets on the second waiter for chewing gum.  He wasn’t actually, must have just popped something in his mouth on the way to the table.  Doc did NOT approve.

I ordered lemonade which is followed by him quizzing the waiter on whether or not it was fresh squeezed.  It was not.  Deciding that this would not suffice, he asked for a mix of iced tea and lemonade. 

Drinks appear.  Doc asks for a sample of the soup of the day.  It appears.  He drinks straight from the little cup and does this little thing with his mouth.  He looked like a rodent for a second.  He offered me a taste from the small cup he just drank out of.  Um, no thank you.  (Come on!)

He orders “Doc’s salad” and asks the waiter if he knows what that is?  No, it’s not on the menu.  The waiter says no, but he knows someone who does.  He asks if we’d like bread, Doc says no, and I say “yes, please.”  The bread appears and Doc asks if I ordered it.  Yes, I did.  He makes some derogatory comment about that margarine they serve.  It was whipped butter actually, and I helped myself to a roll. 

All the time this is happening Doc is regaling me with stories of the way he has treated waitresses and waiters all over town.  Yeah, he’s actually something of a legend.  And he thinks that since he tips (what he thinks is) really big that everyone should jump to.  I keep my disagreement to myself.

His salad appeared.  It was a huge plate with a mountain of romaine lettuce in the center.  It had five large thick slices of tomato around the bottom of the plate and nearly an entire cucumber cut around the top of the plate with a few curls of red onions sprinkled on the center.  It arrived with vinegar and oil.  He smothered it with black pepper, salt, oil, vinegar and proceeded to shove great gobs of it in his mouth, chewing with his mouth open.  Yeah, while talking.  Telling me stories of his exploits with service staff and managers of restaurants.  Oy!  I enjoyed the bread.  Um, with my mouth closed.

And after he had downed the whole salad, he also enjoyed the bread.  That he hadn’t ordered and almost sent back.  His drink was already empty again, the waiter appeared.

We’d both ordered the crab cake sandwich which is my favorite thing the Depot serves.  Mine came with fries.  (His came with Doc’s Salad.)  The second waiter appeared – the one Doc already disapproved of.  He sat my plate in front of me.  Doc moved his salad plate and reached to trade the waiter the food for the empty plate.  Only the new plate was very hot.  Clunk, the hot plate went to the table.  Instant flash of anger.  Couldn’t you have told me the plate was hot?!  Instant terrified waiter in training stuttering something that didn’t help.  Almost instant appearance of the other waiter.  There was this tense moment where everyone looked concerned and frozen in place.  I looked at Doc and raised one eyebrow.  Come on man.  He pulled it together and said something about how he could take responsibility for his own actions, that he had reached for the plate and that was his mistake and shooed them away.  Whew. 

The roulade they serve with the crab cakes is a mayonnaise base, and he looked at it and said it had been sitting out to long, that he was going to send it back.  He must have still been hungry after that huge salad though because he changed his mind and just scraped off the top that looked bad – in his mind at least. 

Shortly the waiter arrives to refill his drink again.  Doc instructs him not to get a fresh glass but to refill that one.  It ruins the taste if you get a fresh glass.  I ask for more of the roulade sauce.

The drink refill arrives, it was to the very rim.  Oh boy, here we go again.  Doc picked up the glass gingerly, so as not to spill it, tells the waiter that next time, he should give him a little breathing room.  Then he drinks off half of the glass, just like that.  I again ask for more roulade. 

His phone rings.  He picks it up and gruffly tells the person on the other end of the line that he can’t talk now, bye, and hangs up. 

Doc downed his sandwich in record time and starts eyeing my plate.  He sneaks a few fries, and while it’s on its way to his mouth he asks “May I have a French fry?”   Yeah, he pulled that stunt repeatedly.  He’s changed subjects now, he’s no longer talking about what a horror he’s been to the service staff of different expensive restaurants.  Now he’s into talking about a pet project.  Only he respectfully asked me not to breathe a word about it to anyone, even my husband.  Yeah, raise your right hand, all of that.  Is this man joking?  He’s drawing floor plans on the paper table cloth.  Scribble scribble.  Another refill for his drink. 

His cell phone rings.  He answers, I’m expecting another gruff “I can’t talk now, bye” but no.  It’s a conversation.  A rather long one in my opinion.  I hate phones.  I think people who talk on them at a meal with another person are being extremely rude.  So I check out and get my own messages.  He makes another call bossing around the person on the other end of the line.  I’m still checked out and considering leaving with a nice wave and a smile or something.  He hangs up.  Finally.

The conversation about the secret pet project goes on, the bill arrives.  $30 for two of us, and his tip is $7.  Ok, so this little seven bucks is what he thinks gives him the right to treat the staff that way?  We leave, and I imagine the service staff breathing a sigh of relief and being annoyed that it was only $7.  We’re finishing up the conversation on the front porch and he puts on his sunglasses which are the mirrored kind.  Yeah, another pet peeve of mine.  I complained that I can’t see him, indicating the glasses.  He starts to take them off, thinks better of it, and says “that’s fine cause it would piss off my wife” and hesitates just a second for a reaction before turning to go.  “Oh go away!” 

What would Julia Sugerbaker have done?  I imagine myself with just a hint of southern twang, a silky blouse, a pencil skirt and high heels.  I’ll toss my hair like she would and say loudly enough for the entire dining room to hear…  “The guy who disapproves of a waiter because there is dirt under his nails might manage to shave once and a while.  And if you’re going to complain that the waiter chews gum, you should consider that you’re chewing with your mouth open and you have butter stuck in your beard stubble.  And perhaps the next time you scare a waiter with some angry outburst because of a hot plate, you might consider the rudeness of taking two cell phone calls, and even making a cell phone call from the table while in good company.  But perhaps most amazing is that anyone can treat other humans with such disrespect and expect a “good” tip to right all wrongs in the end.  No, it is not right to expect perfection of others which you obviously do not demand of yourself.  If you don’t demand it of yourself what gives you the right to expect to purchase it from others!  And if you think you have are famous with wait staff all over town you might consider that you are actually INFAMOUS, and yes, there is a difference.  I suspect, “Doc” (and Julia would certainly add – “or whatever your real name is”) that you are just a brat in big britches.  The dining room would applaud and the waiter would accidentally spill the fiftieth glass of lemonade/iced tea on those big britches.  She would add "Thank you very much for lunch, I'll leave a real tip"  (She passes a big crisp bill to the waiter)  Studio audience applauds, fade to black, roll credits. 

Raspberry jubilee is a cake that has layers of white cake that are about a quarter of an inch thick.  These are layered (I lost count how many layers) with raspberry filling and covered with a chocolate ganash frosting.  The chocolate ganash is pretty much just chocolate and cream and butter and such.  Mercy!  It’s not very sweet so it comes off tasting a bit like a dark chocolate raspberry truffle.  Yeah.  Good times.

The problem with decorating cakes it that it depends on the elves.  Like the cake baking elf, and the cake icing elf.  When these elves do not get their work accomplished in time, it means that cake decorator (that would be me!) doesn’t get her work done in a timely manner either.

The Hack has put out an edict that she will not work when I’m in the bakery.  Ok, I know that isn’t personal, it’s not about me, but then again it is.  And none of the reasons (other than the fact that I’m a better and faster cake decorator) are interesting in the least.  Well, not to me anyway.  It just doesn’t pass the “who cares?” test.

The Hack said she was coming in to work at 11:00 this morning, we must all be out of her way by then.  Boss of course said that we would be.  So Elf was going to come in early and work at icing cakes for me to decorate.  And we were going to bust out the work in a big hurry and be out of her way when her royal highness the Hack arrived. 

Little problem.  One of the cakes had NOT even been BAKED.  And none of the cakes that Elf was supposed to have ready – were ready to decorate when I got there.  What we have here is a failure to communicate.  So…  I did a few things to stay busy.  It neared 11:00 and we didn’t have the stuff done to be out of Hack’s way.  But 11:00 came and went and no Hack.  Hmmm…  I got my work finished and left at 12:30 and she still hadn’t shown up.  Tsk, silly Hack.  Tricks are for kids.

Ok, let me back up a little bit.  I have a degree in Interior Design (so sue me) only I do not work in the field.  Nor do I want to (even though I’m still paying for the degree.)  The delightful news that I got the other day is that the Hack is currently in school to become an Interior Designer.  I think she must be late fifty something, so this is a late in life thing.  So she’s talked to Boss Lady about changing around the decorating station and that she’s planning to do that this weekend.  She has apparently spent hours on “space planning.”  Oh I can hardly contain my excitement.  So Boss Lady warned me that it would all be changed around when I came in next.  But if I didn’t like it, BL assures me that I can change it. 

That annoys me for two reasons.  Boss Lady will let her change around the station ON THE CLOCK knowing that I may need to change the station when I come back.  So she’s allowing her own employee to do pointless work at a time when money is tight for the biz.  Are you kidding me?  Secondly… Ok, I may have the degree and everything, but I’m the first to admit that I don’t know everything.  There have been some real advances in space planning since the early days when I got my training.  ‘Back in the day’ a designer working on space planning would start by COMMUNICATING WITH THE CLIENT.  Um, that would be ME  …yeah.  Apparently there have been dramatic changes in the way this works, perhaps even some miraculous break through in mind reading because she hasn’t spoken to me at all.  I’m so impressed I could just vomit. 

After observing Boss Lady in action I’ve come to the conclusion that she wants everyone to be happy to such a degree that she does this thing I’ve decided to call “The Twist.”  To one person she communicates story version one.  To the other person it is version two – which resembles version one to a great degree, but it is… um… served with a twist.  And the twist is in direct correlation to the audience.  She should be a politician.  I adore the lady, she’s a dear sweet southern lady who likes to mother all her little elf workers.  She just wants everyone to be happy.  I guess that answers the question on whether or not she has a backbone.  She has one, it’s just twisted.  I have mixed feelings about twists.  I like a good twist in my drink, but I’d rather have a good twist in my ankle than in my boss.

Carrot cake is a spiced heavy rich cake with lots of grated carrots in it.  Then it is frosted with cream cheese frosting that is loaded up with chopped pecans.  It’s nearly divine, but it’s not chocolate so it can only ever be partially divine.  Like me I guess. 

Well, last night after we got home and went to bed, the house grew quiet.  I was reading a book in bed, expecting to put it down and quickly doze off any minute.  That’s when our oldest Border Collie Hope made an interesting discovery.  If you’re biting some itch on your front paw, it’s natural to kick your back paw in sympathy.  This makes the tray in the bottom of the crate smack up against the wire frame, which makes a delightfully satisfying noise.  The noise reverberates around the laundry room and is therefore transmitted to the entire house by some weird quirk of nature.  And if you really itch badly, you can make this noise go on for quite some time.  Throw in a whine or a bark here and there, and your human will appear, looking sleepy and annoyed.  But hey, human is good when you want out of the crate.

Ok, note from wicked dog owner needs to be inserted here.  Hope gets flee (insert long medical word that means she itches) unless we buy frontline and put it on her.  At the store Hubby asked for a cheaper alternative.  Yeah, the stuff is crazy expensive and you’re supposed to do it once a month.  They showed him the $16 stuff and assured him it was the same stuff.  Apparently not.  So we didn’t mean to be wicked dog parents, just cheap skates.  They said it worked just as well.  I wish it was their skin itching.

So I got up once hoping that the barking meant she needed a bathroom break.  So I let them both outside.  One sat in one place and scratched.  The other made her rounds around the whole yard, stopping to scratch.  I felt horrible.  My girls are itching!  I put them back to bed.  So a few moments later after I’m all snuggling back in my comfortable bed…  Hope starts the amplified scratch noise again.  More barking. 

No sleep for anyone.

So at 1:00 in the morning we are outside in the back yard giving them both a bath, hoping that this will hold them until we can get somewhere to drop an obscene amount of money on dog drugs.  Ok, Hope bites.  That means hubby is holding the leash – Hope is straining to get away and squirming.  Hubby is wearing welding gloves to protect himself from damage from any stray teeth and trying to hold on to her.  He’s got a hold of her with the leash and a big paw in a welding glove.  And it is my duty to wash the toothy bugger, while staying away from the teeth, the leash, the hubby, the welding glove… and well, it gets tricky.  I was holding the hose so I fared better than hubby did.  But somehow he managed to get pretty wet.  (huh!)  But she got much wetter.  (I win, I win!) 

They both seemed to appreciate the bath actually.  I guess they’ve learned that baths are good when they’ve been skunked, maybe a bath with work for this new kind of weird itching torture.  Then Misde sat and shivered for a while cause the water was cold, which was both cute and pathetic.  But no complaints from her, never a stray tooth.  We toweled them off and they shook heartily and then shook again.  And again. 

Thanks!  I needed another shower. 

So all four of us went back to bed and finished off the night in comfort.  Only the human two were dry.  The girls had to sleep in their wet coats.  But that’s better than an itchy coat, right?  Poooor puppies.

Oh Lord, what have I done now?

I left the pizza job looking for a little less drama.  I got this *great* new job at the cake place.  And today…  I worked with the other decorator at the cake place.  I’m shocked!  I’m horrified.  And I’m up a creek without a paddle!  Or a canoe.  I’m up a creek with nothing but creek.  Slippery rocks, cold water and… well… *creek!*  Oh. My. God!

To be fair, I knew that it could get interesting because I just got hired in and I didn’t know what I would be facing with this woman, if she would be territorial or intimidated or whatever.  I spent some time with Boss Lady this morning just talking about how things were going to be with this other decorator (or maybe hack is a better term for her) and Boss Lady assured me that there would be no problem – or if there was – that she’d let her go.  Hmmm…  That has a ring to it.  She’ll let her go, she’ll let her go. 

*snap*

(Shakes self)

Um,

where was I?

I got to work this morning and the equipment was moved around a bit.  It wasn’t going to work for me at all.  Boss Lady told me to make it work for me so I moved things around a little more.  It needs tweaking but it’s a decent work area for the moment.  Until the Hack arrived.  She started the mumble grumble almost immediately.  She’d go mumble grumble to one co-worker, and then on to the next.  All around the room – all where I could hear – all unpleasant.  After a while she quit making the rounds, just did her grumbling from the table next to mine.  After a while I wasn’t sure whether to cry or fanaticize about snapping off her head like a twig.  But the annoying mouth still continued on and on all afternoon.  “Yada yada” doesn’t even cover it.  I think they make drugs for that kind of behavior, but I’m partial to duct tape applied directly to the oral cavity region.

I left her alone.  Yeah, like that’s rocket science.  I stayed out of her way, I tried to ignore.  Ok.  For those of you who don’t know me… there is a timer associated with “letting it slide” setting on me.  And at some point, I don’t just “let it slide” anymore.  The little timer will go “DING!” and I’ll get in the hack's face!  It won’t be pretty.  I wish I could do it as well as Julia Sugarbaker from “Designing Women.”  I can’t.  Hmmm... that's a lovely goal though. 

She made one cake while I was there (while I made three or four – now I’m starting to understand why the prices are so high because the hack is so freaking SLOW it isn’t even funny)  Ok, where was I?  She did a beautiful job icing the cake.  It was lovely (took forever) but was lovely.  Then she decorated it.  Um…  To be fair – it wasn’t horrible.  But it wasn’t good.  Here’s the problem.  I’ll tell my friends that I work at (insert name of bakery here) and that will be groovy.  But what if they see one of her cakes and think that is my work?  I want my reputation to be earned by my own work – not by hers!  Seriously!

I asked Boss Lady for a private moment and so we talked about Hack.  I simply looked Boss Lady in the eye and said I wasn’t prepared to work with this much drama.  She said that yes, Hack being horrible and it is ridiculous and shouldn’t be.  Boss Lady had already talked to me about doing particular cakes, and when I left Hack was starting a cake that Boss Lady had talked to me about.  I got the impression she asked and Boss Lady said sure honey, whatever you want.  I’m wondering if Boss Lady has a spine with this woman or if she’ll let her walk all over her and the rest of us.  So Boss Lady calls her a Prima Donna (I’m going to have to look that up) temperamental and selfish - all behind her back to me – but will she speak directly TO HER and tell her what needs to change?  Boss Lady told me that that it’s not just me that other employees have been complaining about her as well.  Not sure why she admitted that to me, but ok.  Now what?  I feel horrible for Boss Lady, the Hack is her good friend.  Yeah, I feel a little worse for me, but I'm willing to spread a little pity Boss Lady's way.  So the question of my day is: Is Boss Lady going to do something to make this all go away or am I going back to pizza purgatory?  I’m going to give it a few days and see if it all settles down or not. 

Seriously!  I am so shocked!  I really thought I’d happened upon something really amazing and I was very hopeful.  Now I’m just annoyed.  I really want to like humans, but I think the deck is stacked with jokers and jacks. 

I had my first day at work today.  My new job as the cake decorator at the bakery.  My Pizza Purgatory days are over!  Halle–freakin–luyah!!!

Ok, so I always go into a new job with my antenna really up.  Way up.  And I’m noticing something that could get interesting.  First of all, I’m always going to be compared to Holly (I thought her name was Molly, but it turns out that her name is Holly.)  But Boss Lady made some comment today about how people won’t even remember how things used to be when they see the new work.  Cool, that is a nice compliment.  And I only made two cakes today.  I also made some really beautiful fall leaves out of fondant that we’ll use on cakes this fall.  They’re very pretty.

Secondly, there is another decorator there, depending on how you look at it.  When I asked if they were looking for a decorator, Boss Lady said a huge “Yes!” because Holly – the decorator - quit.   Which is interesting, because they kinda have another decorator.  Or at least to hear the other lady tell it – she’s the decorator.  Interesting.  Where this could get interesting is that Boss Lady isn’t very happy with her work.  Which is why I’m there.  So I’m sort of her replacement…

The other day I went in and Boss Lady wanted me to show the other lady how to make some icing flowers.  Boss Lady encouraged her to ask me any questions she might have over how to make anything.  She didn’t bite.  So she showed me how to make a carnation.  Only it was something I would have thrown away because it was pretty bad.  She didn’t seem really very interested in learning how to do anything from this pipsqueak who is half her age.  Hmmmm…

See, now this is where things have always gotten interesting for me when I decorated cakes in the past.  I can do just about anything with icing, given the right equipment.  And it comes really easy to me.  But I know that I don’t want to be a cake decorator for the rest of my life.  It’s not a high goal for me, because it’s so easy and there are other fish I’d like to fry.  The problem is that there are people out there who would give their left arms to be able to do what comes so easily for me.  And those people hate me.  And rightfully so.  Because this is a great skill that pleases people, and no matter how hard some people will work at it – if they don’t have the natural talent – they may never be able to put their work beside mine.

Ok, before you freak out over how arrogant I am…  I grew up in a bakery with a Mom who did cakes from our home kitchen.  All my growing up life we had a bakery of sorts in the house and then a commercial bakery in town.  I don’t remember NOT knowing how to make and decorate a killer cake.  And I’ve worked with a variety of similar non edible art media and the skills translate really well to the sugar arts.  I won my first award at the age of sixteen for a cake.  And every time I’ve entered a cake competition since – I’ve taken the cake.  Um.. well, yeah.  Plus, I’ve worked with another decorator in Indiana who was almost as good as my Mom.  And I learned a ton from him.  And I worked for him for at least five years, usually as many as 90 cakes over the weekend, each weekend plus more through the week.  If I’m not good at this by now, I should be shot, because I’ve certainly had the chance to learn.  Now, wouldn’t you just hate me if you had to work as a cake decorator beside me? 

Ok, so it’s totally not my fault I’m good at this.  If my parents had been in a different line of work I would have learned that.  But it sets me up to be hated by co-workers who decorate cakes.  And to be fair, it also sets me up to amaze co-workers who make pies and bread, and so I see no problem there.  But what about the lady who had my job before I was hired?  I do wonder how that’s going to go. 

I just think about if it were me.  I would be unhappy to be upstaged by the new kid.  Very unhappy.  This could get very interesting!

Hi all you lovely voxers!  How on earth are ya?

We went to see Desmond Tutu speak.  And it was good.  Actually, there were parts of it I found kind of fascinating in a sick sort of way.  All the presenting of awards and resolutions and flowery words of congratulations and glory, laud and honor… well…  It kind of made me a little sick.  I mean Desmond Tutu is human.  Not a god.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I respect what the man did and his current work for peace and restorative justice, AIDS and other issues.  He has my absolute deepest personal respect.  But what seems to be unsettling in the back of my mind is that it wasn’t that long ago that this man was living the hunted life.  And where were these self same individuals who were stumbling over themselves the compliment him at this event?  Were they involved in the struggle?  Did they speak out back then?  When the situation was life and death for many black South Africans?

When the little man walked into the arena the place went crazy wild with a thunderous noise.  And just for a moment a room full of diverse individuals were altogether pacifists with a shared deep respect for Dr. Martin Luther King, Ghandi, Mandela and yes…  Desmond Tutu.  For a moment, there was a whole group of people who together saw and abhorred the evils of racism, poverty and the use of violence in the earth.  And for that brief moment I was transported with delight.  But tomorrow…  Well, count me a realist, a cynic, even a jerk if you like…  but will these six thousand people be pacifists tomorrow?  Will they speak out about the Iraq war tomorrow?  Will there be any talk of justice – not western retributive justice – but the redress and restorative justice that restores balance?  Will there be any talk of putting an end to poverty tomorrow?  Of changing our world and leaving it a more beautiful and peaceful place for our children?  Or will these six thousand people go back to a normal American life where African conflicts are a world away, voting for individuals who will chose violence with the goal of peace, and torture, rendition, Gitmo and other abhorrent atrocities are used by OUR OWN GOVERNMENT?!  The fruit of peace never grows on the tree of violence.  Never did, never will. 

So I have mixed feelings about the event where we heard Desmond Tutu speak.  For a brief moment we had a glimpse of a world – not as it is – but as it could be.  And it was good.  It was the triumph of good over evil, shining light over the dark void, enlightenment over ignorance.  We applauded this man who stood strong and true in a dangerous and dark world with blood and pain all around – half a world away – while we went about our lives.  It’s easy to jump on a hero after he’s proved himself.  But while he is in a dangerous place all by himself – standing firm – then he’s just another lunatic.  And the world didn’t bow at his door then as they do now.

Ok, really, if I’d have had the chance to hear Desmond Tutu speak, minus all the pomp and circumstance – I’d take that chance.  This was not that.  Oh well.  He’s energetic and enthusiastic and a joyful and slightly irreverent man.  I adored his message and I hope it turns up on Youtube somewhere.  I have the slight feeling that it’s the same speech for every honor he receives, and the list is so long that his mind couldn’t list them – even if he had the heart to try.  Something in me still resists this though.  Sure, it’s easy to jump on this band wagon and bless this man now that he has survived and become very popular.  But what about back then?  When the injustice was fresh and bloody?  Evil triumphs when good people remain silent.  And for those who were silent about ‘just another bloody African conflict’ back then, shouldn’t get to stand on stage and laud this man now.   But of course I don’t know all these wonderful Majors, Trustees, Ambassadors and other such grand poobas and big cheeses.  Maybe I’m just being a harsh judge for people I do not know.  Who am I to judge anyway?

I’m still a pacifist.  I’m still mightily annoyed by the Iraq War, Gitmo, rendition, torture and a host of other evils perpetrated by my own government.  I struggle to put those thoughts into words and I may never do it as well as Desmond Tutu does, with as much grace or humor.  But tomorrow I’ll still be the same person as I was the night he spoke.  I’ll still be seeking to love justice, mercy and walk humbly – just like Desmond Tutu in the days when the battle raged at his doorstep. 

I opened an Etsy shop and started stocking the shelves, baby!  Yeah, I’m tickled pink!  Now if I can get a few more days off here and there to really plug in the inventory I have sitting around here…  Surf over, look around, buy something, tell your friends!!!  LOL! 

CarmenRoseStudio.etsy.com

We’re going to go hear Desmond Tutu speak tonight at JMU!  I can hardly wait!  This is a guy I totally respect and I’ve heard Diane Ream interview him and it blew me away, hearing him in person is going to be awesome!  Yay!

Plus, today is my last day at the pizza place!  YAY!  It’s bittersweet I guess but this week has been a good one with the Bosses playing nice and all.  It’s been slower than all get out, so I haven’t made much money this week, but it’s been good.  It’s almost over!  YAY!

And tomorrow is my first Saturday off since I took that job.  I'd love to say I'm going to use the day for a little R&R, but I've got a bunch of catching up to do over the weekend.  I start the new job Tuesday!  Whew, what a life!

Ok, I stole this from Hurricane Hetta but I adore this woman and her message!  You GO GIRL! 

A Fat Rant.

1 comment

And just fyi, I'm about 147 at the moment, down from 157.  I don't know if I'll be able to keep those ten pounds off or not, but if I can't, it's not going to end my life.  Like the video says - I've got livin to do!

Thanks Hurricane Hetta, and thanks JOY NASH who is a stunning beauty!

Yes!