Michigan ~ Day 60

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Sitting around at the internet cafe, I should probably be getting back to the farm in about five minutes, which means I should start walking to my car, but I’m sitting here, not watching, but listening to Mikey Bustos singing Call Me Maybe with a Pinoy accent.

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I put in about three hours this morning prepping for the pig roast. Kelly and Kelly and Pat and I were all in the kitchen together, it was so much fun!!! Pat has an awesome playlist on his iPod that I’m used to hearing when I come into the kitchen when he and Kelly are on the line.

Ok, to minimize confusion – incredibly late, I know – I’m going to start calling Kelly who works the line with me KJ, which is what Scott calls her to differentiate her from Pat’s Kelly.

Watching Kelly dance and Pat trying not to smile is one of the most enjoyable sights on the farm. They’re just so perfect for each other; the rest of us talk about it all the time. They’re such genuine people, hard workers, always so sweet and supportive towards each other, and nothing fazes either of them. They did $1300 today. They’ve always got fun stuff planned on their days off, they cook for each other after work and we often see them, sitting around on the deck at the cafe or the cabin, having a glass of wine or a beer, just talking. At Blissfest, KJ and I were talking to Kelly and she was telling us that one of her earliest memories of Pat was sitting with mutual friends and talking about what they thought love was. Pat said something about love being like a bottle of wine – that it just gets better as it gets older. (“Aww” moment from KJ and I xP)

I headed back to the cabin for lunch, then headed out to Harbor to use the internet. I meant to do something productive like read the ToB, but I ended up watching Mikey Bustos and blimeycow videos.

I’ve been forgetting to blog so much… I always think of things I want to blog while I’m working, and then I forget at the end of the day. Like Chris making begging puppy dog faces when he wants to use my knives. Something akin to Yards only talking to me when he wants bread.

That same night, Scott observed that when I spoke of Daveed’s, I never spoke of an exec chef, only a sous. He must have caught something in my curt reply, because he challenged me, “SAY IT. Say he was a f*cking @$$hole. Just say it.” Chris joined Scott in egging me on. I just bowed my head and stopped speaking. Scott was bewildered. “Do you seriously never curse, or do you always just catch yourself? ‘Cause I think in curses. I’m just wondering if you don’t do it because you’re worried about what people will think or you just don’t think it’s acceptable or what. I’ve never met anyone like that.” I remember Sami assuring me that Jared didn’t hate me; he just didn’t know what to do with me, because he’d never met anyone quite like me. Scott’s funny; half the time he says that I clearly belong in kitchens based on my food- and service-related mood swings and stuff, and then the other half of the time, he’s discovering things about me that to him are bizarrely untypical of kitchen people. But then, he actually tells me about these discoveries. I could never read Jared’s mind. Just his facial expressions. *shrug* I just don’t see the satisfaction in cursing, and it doesn’t prove anything. Marv teased that my vice is violence, but there’s a bit of truth to that. It is infinitely more satisfying to be destroying things physically than resorting to offensive language. But then I don’t go around destroying things on a regular basis, either, so maybe I’ve got my vice under control.

My current facebook status reads: ‘picture this: i’m wearing danskos, gray adventurer pants, navy blue tasting room polo, black skull cap, latex gloves, standing in front of the pig roaster. scott looks up and he’s just thinking that he should get a picture of me intent on ripping meat off of the carcass when i turn to him and ask, “could you see me in the convent?”‘

Scott said he looked at the hat and thought, ok, maybe, but then he decided that I enjoyed my food too much =P Silly Scott.  Jimmy’s comment was that I wanted children too much to become a nun. For my own sake, if I have a religious vocation, I hope very much that he’s wrong.

I received an email from Jason the other day. And speaking of Jason, I had to laugh at myself for emulating him, wearing my apron folded over, a towel hanging behind me and a towel hanging at my side. But then I guess I’ve also taken a leaf out of Jared’s book and kept all my knives and stuff in a plastic third pan since my very first day here. When I want burgers to be done faster, I remember what Jared said about pressing the juice out so that it looks more done. I think Ricky Bobby’s the only one I didn’t pick up anything from =P Not that I was trying…

If there were a blowtorching bluebottles olympics, I’d have a gold medal by now. Seriously. I think I forgot to mention that the day that Pat was coming in to check on me, he came in the first time and found me standing very still with the blowtorch in my hand, waiting for bluebottles to land so that I could destroy them. He looked at me and started laughing.

So back to the off-site pig roast! Scott was stressing so much about it, and then it turned out to be one of his most relaxed work days this summer. He said it was partly due to being able to go and take care of the pig and know that KJ and I had things under control back here. I had the time of my life pulling that pig apart. Working and snacking, that was the place to be. We all got to eat our fill of pork, baked beans, kale slaw, pesto pasta salad, cookies, and a Corona each. They had a live band, which thrilled me; classical guitar is always a winner. AND the last song they played was While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Total win.

We got back and got out of cleaning at around 2130ish, and I told myself and Mother that I’d go to sleep, but I was still high on life and adrenaline, so here I am. Wide awake and sorting files on my laptop. Bleh.

Scott’s off for the next three days; his daughter has gluten-related health complications, so it’s not exactly a vacation. I hope he’s able to relax a bit, though.

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