Grief and the Trunk of My Car

Yesterday was my last day in the office at the big church where I am the intern. My smaller church doesn't have a building at all, so all of my office time has been spent at Big Church (BC). BC is a fairly large congregation, replete with two pastors, an administrative assistant, director for Christian education, parish nurse, and me (for a couple more days, technically).

One of the great thing about BC's "staff church" status is that the staff is excellent. Sure, there are tensions between a couple of people, but nothing insurmountable. We all have gotten along quite well during my ten months of internship.

All of the staff have been great to me during my time in North Dakota. In particular, the administrative assistant, whom we shall call "Smiley," has been a wonderful addition to my life. Not only is she a model of efficiency and pleasantness, she is also very, VERY fun, and to top it off, she reminds me of Sis.

Anyway, yesterday was my last office day, like I said. I was reflecting on how I'd been at Restaurant for 10 years and how I'd been at BC for ten months, and how much more sad I was at the thought of leaving BC.

I waited until everyone else left before I went to get the box I had put in my car (Arnold). Even though they knew yesterday was the last day I'd be working with them in the office, I didn't want to upset them with that reminder. So, Smiley gave me a hug and then they all left.

Which brings me to the gist of this post. I went out and got the empty box to put the bulk of my "office stuff" into. I went to my office and loaded my books and pictures and some things into my bags, and then put most of the stuff in the box. Then, I started carrying my things out to my car. I opened the trunk and realized that the only times I ever open the trunk of my car are times fraught with grief.

When Mom was dying, and J and I decided to drive all night, the trunk was opened to put in our suitcases. The day of her funeral, we opened my trunk to put plants and other funeral home things in there. When we needed to head back to North Dakota, I had to put the last box of my stuff from my childhood home into the trunk, full well knowing that I would probably never get to see the inside of that home ever again because someone wanted to buy it. Even though the death of one of the most influential people in my life is different from leaving a well-loved "job," it is still a grieving process.

So, yesterday, as I was cleaning out my office and taking my things to the car, I realized that the trunk of the car is a place, for me at least, where grief's shadows linger. The trunk lid is opened, and in are poured boxes and contents of my life during times of grief and processing, as well as some of my tears and angst.

I knew full well that my internship was a "fixed time-frame" job. That's what it is to be on an internship. I knew that Mom's time was drawing to a close. That's a part of what it is to be a human being with a terminal illness. And yet, these obvious truths did not stop and do not stop the grief. Which leads me to yet another point: Grief is not a bad thing.

Grief is a healthy thing. Certainly, the loss of loved ones, the realization that we don't get to see people who make us laugh and feel loved on a regular basis, and the growing older and losing the things of childhood cause all sorts of different emotions within us. They hurt, often to the point we think it is unbearable. These things cause tears-even for those of us who don't often cry. All this grief and change help us to see that life is not some perfect utopia, but is instead a place where good and bad things happen everyday. But it's healthy. Grieving is healthy, even if at the same time uncomfortable. Grieving reminds us that we have loved and been loved; reminds us that we have made memories that are irreplaceable; reminds us that we are indeed alive.

And this makes me want to go and open the trunk of my car.

The week leading up to the wedding.

Well, friends, here I sit, having now been married for TWO months! It's been an interesting couple of months, to say the least. I realize that I've not talked about the actual wedding day, so I suppose, I will get there in this post.

But first, a little bit more of the stuff that led up to the day...

Sunday, May 24, I went to church (obviously), and listened to the interim do the service and everything. YS and I had made plans to go golfing after church, so I went to her house and we set out. The day was warm and so I took off my button up to show my arms (I was wearing a shell; kind of like a tank top, but it covers more).

We golfed and laughed and had a good time while we lost our golf balls and I golfed probably the best game of my life (which isn't saying much because I am not good at the sport). When we got done, we went about, hanging out more. We had some lunch and some ice cream and laughed some more. I really love YS a lot. She's very special to me.

J came down to Illinois that day so he could stay at Sis and BiL's house as we finalized our wedding preparations. He set out from North Dakota (I decided I could tell you I'm in the state, considering I almost always tell my readers what state I'm in) after church and made it to Illinois around 3 or 4 in the morning, I believe. He had had to make several pitstops, and I believe stopped to see some of his family on the way down. I had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room waiting for him, and was very glad when he got to the house. I sent him to the spare room and I went to the basement to sleep on the couch.

So, the next morning... Sis came down to wake me up. We were supposed to go do something, but I didn't feel well and told her. So, I stayed on the couch and tried to sleep some more. Unfortunately, I started to feel like I was going to get sick, so I sat up and realized that I didn't have the strength to get up to go to the bathroom. So, I picked up the cup sitting beside the couch for a "just in case." The next thing I knew, though, I was sweating like a pig, and the cup I had been holding was now on the floor and I was slumped over. I had fainted! It was a bit odd, considering I'd not passed out in over 4 years. Since it'd been so long, I couldn't quite tell the difference between "getting sick" and fainting. So, once I woke up, I just laid back down for a while and started to feel a bit better. Sis came down again and I told her what happened and I could tell she was worried about me. But, I am convinced that I just got too much sun the day previous. After I fainted, I drank a bunch of water and then started to feel loads better.

Fast forward again... J and I went and met with the interim on Tuesday, wedding license in tow. However, we realized after we had gone to the courthouse that they had messed up and had typed my name as "Trusha." So, we talked with the interim and he asked us, "So, what are we doing on Saturday?" We were both thinking, "Don't you have anything planned!" Apparently, this man who has been ordained for more than 30 years has never performed an LBW wedding, and uses the one he wrote 36 years ago whenever he can. J and I were absolutely NOT interested in using his service because of its archaic language and because we just aren't too keen on the interim, anyway. We made an appointment to finalize our plans with the interim on Thursday, and so J and I went back to Sis and BiL's and he threw out a plea on Facebook for someone to send him an order of service from the ELW since he'd not brought his, considering he was on VACATION getting ready to get MARRIED and because he thought the pastor would know what he was doing. Oy. Thankfully, several people responded and he wrote up a service that was pretty cool, lickety split.

Another day or so passed and we went and had our marriage license fixed from "Trusha" to "Trisha." We met with the interim again and he complained that the printing was too small. Thankfully, J had brought the file on his flash drive and we made it bigger to satisfy the interim. The secretary was also in the office and she helped us print up bulletins (We are low key people). She was so helpful.

So, we get to Friday, the rehearsal day. We got there and the interim was there, J's internship supervising pastor who was also a part of the day, the groomsmen, the photographer, and my sister in law, who was one of my attendants. My two sisters, however, were a smidge late, much to the chagrin of the interim. When YS and Sis got to the church, he basically insulted them by treating them like they were children. Ugh. And then, he insulted J and me! He complained about the complicatedness of the service J had drawn up. We didn't want to get into it with the interim the day before our wedding, though, so we just let it drop. At one point, the photographer asked a question and the interim BIT his head off! J and I just looked on in horrified shock and embarrassment that this "man of the cloth" tore down another pastor-type guy (The photographer runs a church himself). J and I both apologized to the photographer, and so did Pastor M (J's internship supervisor). He took the brow beating with grace, which is probably more than I would have done.

The rehearsal, otherwise, went pretty smoothly, and we were happy to have at least ONE pastor we wanted be there. Pastor M gave us MANY excellent tips for the next day, and she did so with tact and grace. When the interim gave us "tips," he was basically scolding us. He said, "Make sure to eat tomorrow! I don't want anyone fainting. That means you, Bride." He also made some disparaging comments about my sunburn, which was fading from the previous Sunday. He was just not pleasant.

After rehearsal, we went to eat at the restaurant where I worked for almost ten years. I had called them the week before to make sure that they were still willing to do the dinner for us because the male boss, G, died on May 2nd, unexpectedly. I had meant to blog about that, but I don't think I ever did. I heard that he died, and so I went back to Illinois from SeminaryTown to the funeral and things. It was very sad to lose G, a man who had loved me and who I had looked upon a bit like a father for so long. I had seen him two weeks prior to his death because YS and I, on a spontaneous hang out night, went over to Restaurant to eat. I talked with him for a while and then went to talk with the female boss who told me he was going in for a test in two weeks to see about some symptoms he had been having. Having seen him so recently and hearing about his potential health issues made the blow a little less severe, but I still grieved for G. I knew that G's wife would still be grieving for him, and so when I called the week before the wedding to make sure they were still willing to have such a party (G did a lot of the prep work for parties), I was a little surprised to hear P (the female boss) say, "You bet. You're the reason we're staying open."

So, the night of the rehearsal, we were seated in the banquet room and were served wonderfully by a couple of the waitresses. We ate delicious food and had a good time. After the meal, Sis and I were talking to P. She then told us that Sunday the 31st would be there last day open. This came as shocking news, but more in the sense of "I can't believe it because I worked here for so long," not in the "Why is she closing the place" sense. After all, her husband, her partner in the business had died recently and she had always talked about getting rid of the place. Odd news to hear the night before your wedding, but understandable. She deserves some peace, and I can't imagine going to work in the place you had opened and operated with your husband of 25+ years after his death. She seemed at peace with her decision, so we wished her well and after a few more moments of talking, we left.

Anyway, this has been another long post, so I will talk about the actual wedding next time, perhaps. Have a delightful day.

Take a Look! It's in a Book! It's Reading Rainbow!

Earlier this summer, some of you might remember that I posted about some books I had read. I read, "The Rapture of Canaan" and "Lamb, The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal." They are both very good books, but in different ways.

Anyway, I kind of had to take a break from reading while I was in Illinois watching my nephews. They would wake me up far earlier than I would ever wake up if I were left to my own devices, and so I could not stay awake late into the night reading. But, now that I'm back at Seminary, I am reading a new book for fun. It is called, "Waiter Rant-Thanks for the Tip-Confessions of a Cynical Waiter."

This book was written by the man who has maintained Waiter Rant for the past four years or so. His blog has been in my "favorites" list for quite some time now. He has blogged mostly about his experiences as a waiter in high end restaurants in New York City and the surrounding areas. Because his blog is wildly popular, and because it garnered much attention, he was given a book deal.

I am almost finished with the book, and for the most part I have enjoyed it. He tells good stories about the restaurant industry; stories that even I, who worked in a plain-jane restaurant (not a chain, but not a dump, either) can relate to. The stories The Waiter (as he goes by) tells do a nice job of linking his experiences to the outside world. He even tells a bit of history here and there and weaves analogies from waiting into these historical concepts. It brings his material alive and helps people realize that restaurants are not separate from society, but rather reflect the attitudes and behaviors of society.

However, there are some points in the book that I think could have been reworked to make it a notch better. For example, The Waiter talks about entitlement, which is a very real thing waiters and waitresses experience when dealing with the public. When people go out to eat, some of them think that the wait staff's sole purpose in life is to bring them their meals. Well, that may be their purpose while at work, many of the people who work in restaurants are also putting themselves through school, or waiting tables as a second job to save up because times are tough, or whatever. Entitlement is really out there. But the thing is, as much as The Waiter complains about it, it seemed to me, in certain places, that he exhibited these behaviors himself. At one point, he was talking about the chef making the staff some lunch before the shift started. He asked the chef to make tacos (the chef was from Mexico, I think), and then, when the tacos came out, he said, "Finally!" It just struck me as a bit odd that he would display that sort of behavior in the middle of his schpiel on the evils of acting entitled. Maybe I just took it wrong, but that's how it came across to me.

There are a few other examples in the book that seem to me to show how The Waiter does not speak to the situations of wait staff who do not work in high-end establishments, and is, in fact, much more off in his assumptions about them than he would probably like to admit. He seemed to imply that you have to work in a high-end place to make any kind of money. Granted, my time at Restaurant didn't garner me LOTS of money, but I had enough to cover what I needed, and even to save quite a bit every week. Maybe that's because I'm cheap, though. The point is, you don't have to work in a restaurant that charges thirty bucks an entree to get by.

And lastly, the thing that probably bothers me the most (because the other things aren't THAT bad; simply observations I have made), is that there are LOTS of typographical and grammatical errors all throughout the book. I think I found nine errors by the time I reached page 102. And I've found a couple more since then. I'm a bit of a neurotic when it comes to proper spelling and grammar, and it just frustrates me knowing that people make GOOD money to EDIT these things, and yet, so many errors slip by. This is the first book I have ever read with SO many blatantly obvious errors.

With all this talk about the shortfalls of the book, though, I want to put it out there that I am indeed enjoying the read. It gives me a glimpse of what the wait staff in high-end establishments have to deal with. Additionally, The Waiter has some really interesting reflections and observations because of his background of working in the mental health field, and of having been a Catholic seminarian. I would recommend the book to those who aren't fanatics about spelling and grammar. I would especially recommend the book to people who eat out at restaurants often. I was very fortunate during my time as a waitress because about 90% of my customers were quite tolerable. Many of them were actually a delight for me to serve. Very few customers prompted my inward groaning. What's nice is that The Waiter talks about the good, the bad, and the ugly; it's not just a complain-fest about the dining public. So, if you're interested in finding a good read, I recommend, "Waiter Rant-Thanks for the Tip-Confessions of a Cynical Waiter."

Just when I thought I was done thinking about them..

Last night, I had a Restaurant dream. Or should I say nightmare. Oy veh. I don't know why I dreamt about them last night, but I did. Maybe it's because I've worked for money recently, and so my subconscious got hung back up at Restaurant. Here's the dream:

I was back there to work for a Friday night. However, my co-waitress was one who quit A LONG time ago due to the bosses ticking her off. Anyway, she was waiting tables with me because on Friday nights, there are two wait staff people on.

When I got to Restaurant, we were putting the salad bar together. That means that you go up to the walk-in cooler and scoop salads like marinated carrots, potato salad, cole salad, three bean salad, etc into these rectangle pans and then put them on the ice that fills the salad bar bottom. It's the waitresses job to do this. So, I was scooping out a pan of marinated carrots when the other waitress stopped helping me. So, I finished putting the salads into pans and then finally went out to the dining room where customers were already filling the place up! All of a sudden, the hostess was there, which was weird because wait staff gets there a good hour before everyone else in order to put the place together. But, the hostess was there, and it was weird because she also hasn't worked there for a really, really long time. She quit maybe 8 or 9 years ago.

So, I looked at the piece of paper that tells each waitress which tables are theirs. I had a bunch of tables, one being the "big" table toward the other end of the restaurant. It seats about 8 or 9 people. I also had "R4" which is bizarre, because Restaurant doesn't have an "R4" table. R3 is the last R table, and that's the 9 seater.

So, I went off to wait on the first tables I had because the big table was later down the list. But, I realized I had no idea what table R4 was. So, I had to turn around and ask the hostess which table it was. She told me that it was out in the bar room, where people generally WAIT to be seated. So, on my way out there, the people at my big table waved at me like, "Get your butt over here! We're ready to order!"

But, I had to go in order. So, I went to R4 and it was a 2 top that were regulars when I really was a waitress there. It was an old man and his son in law. They ordered their food and I forgot to ask the old man what he wanted to drink, so I went back and asked, but the son in law who only wanted water to drink was replaced by this woman who said, "I didn't want water! I wanted apple sauce!" So, I went to the kitchen right away, again forgetting to ask the old man what he wanted to drink. I told the female boss, who is also the main cook that I needed some apple sauce for this woman to drink. The boss was like, "WHAATTT! We don't serve apple sauce to drink!" But then, she started looking all around for it like she was going to accomodate this woman's request. And she TOOK FOREVER to look for it. She even put her hand in the tortellini that sit in the cooler, waiting to be heated for orders. All the while I'm thinking, "Hurry up! I have tables piling up on me out there!" So finally, the boss says, "We don't have any."

So, I went back into the dining room to get some decaf coffee made because the old man always drank decaf coffee. I figured that this way, at least one person wouldn't have to wait FOREVER to get their drink or be told we didn't have what they wanted. However, as I got to the coffee maker, I saw that it was broken. The other host who does still work there came out carrying this other coffeemaker and said, "I need to hook this up. The old one is broken."

Then, I went over to the table and said, "I never asked you what you wanted to drink." The old man said, "Water's fine with me." That made me think, "Dammit! I wasted more time!" So, I had more and more tables piling up on me, and the big table was back there being impatient. When I really worked at Restaurant, I hated waiting on that table because it was time consuming and I sucked at carrying lots of plates at once, considering Restaurant doesn't use big serving trays.

The dream didn't go on for much longer than that. But the basic gist of it was that I was super behind and couldn't catch up, and the female boss was being psychotic at me and taking forever and not being efficient, but was blaming that on me. So, I actually woke up, almost hyperventilating. It was not pleasant.

I guess maybe my brain is still processing out the experiences and baggage that I have from having worked there for so long and being treated like I was sometimes (although, many of the waitresses, hosts, salad bar keepers, bussers, and dishwashers were treated poorly, too, at times). It's actually kind of odd, because as I sit here thinking about the dream and about the reality that was Restaurant, my heart is racing a little. Crazy. Oy veh. Anyway, that is my dream, proudly brought to you by my imagination/subconscious, the letter "T," and my brand new laptop that got here Monday. Yeehaw. Have a great day.

On Duty

Tonight, I volunteered to watch Howard and Sunscreen so Sis and BiL could go on a date. Married people don't go on dates enough. Especially when they have children. And when you have kids, it gets even harder to make special time for each other. When you're dating, you can just chill at home and make time for each other. I actually like "staying in" on dates. It's cheap, it's fun, and you don't have to deal with all kinds of people bein' all up in yer kool-aid.

So, I'm watching the kids. And they're sleeping. So, I'm just chillin' like a villain in Illin-ois.

In other news, we're having corned beef and cabbage tomorrow night. I'm incredibly excited. I stopped in and had a visit with my ex-boss yesterday, and they were having CB&C for a special. Restaurant has THE best CB&C around, and I was slightly bummed I didn't have any. Ah well. Hangin out with YS was better.

And so, today, I stayed in. And slept in. And I need to start catching up while I'm on break. Good luck to you all as you play catch-up and all that good jazz... Peace out.

P.S. Due to "popular" demand, I will be posting "Fading to Grey" (hopefully, if I can find it) next week when I get back to my computer.

Weird...

A "year" is coming to a close for me very quickly. Tomorrow is November 30th (duh, I know) and thus, after tomorrow, I will have been unemployed for one full year. You haven't heard any Restaurant stories lately because, well, I haven't been there to gain any new ones. I've stopped in from time to time, but haven't had any funny, uncomfortable, or heartening stories from there for quite some time.

This past Sunday, I stopped in for one quick minute after leading worship at Pastor's "other" church. Restaurant and OC are in the same town. I couldn't help but thinking about how last year at this time, Female Boss was not being nice to me at all. But, I needed to stop, if you get my drift. Lol. Anyway, I was only in there for maybe 10 minutes, tops because I said hey to some people before heading off. It's still weird going in there and realizing I will NEVER work there ever again; especially considering that place was a big part of my life for 9 1/2 years. There are new faces doing the work, and there have been a few changes for the ones I still know. Unfortunately, Female Boss is still the same. One of my best friends in the world is the 78 year old cook who still cranks out awesome food on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays there, and she sent me a birthday card that said, among other things, "Work is still the same. :(" I feel so bad for her. My friend shouldn't be treated the way she is treated, and dangit, I love the woman and want her to be happy.

I digress...

What is weird is that I am sitting here at my desk, after a morning of class, small group, and chapel, and yet, I am smelling the unmistakable smell of chicken grease. That's one of the "little things" I have enjoyed about not working at Restaurant; the not smelling like chicken grease all the time. Even though other people weren't able to smell the grease after work, I could, and it drove me up the wall. So now, it's just kind of bizarre to me that as I near this "milestone," I am smelling the smelly smell of something that smells smelly: My nemesis, chicken grease. I haven't been around grease for a good long while, and we had hot dogs for lunch today, so I couldn't have gotten it from the cafeteria. Maybe it's my brain playing tricks on me. It's not like I'm longing to go back to work there, anyway. It's just odd, I guess, and something I felt like posting. Have a good day.

Lutheran Guilt

I haven't blogged in a week. My Lutheran guilt is coming out. I beg your forgiveness.

Not much has been going on. We had R&R days (That's Reading and Research; NOT rest and relaxation) on Monday and Tuesday. I tried to do some catching up. For the most part, I am caught up. Except in history. Because I'm a slacker.

I'm not going home this weekend, and I'm happy about this. I love my sisters and their significant others and the children, but I feel guilty when I don't go visit Ma, and I feel craptastic when I do. It's easier to stay here and focus on school and things. I guess I'm a little selfish that way.

Anyway, it's gotten cool outside, and it's definitely sweatshirt weather. Some of us went down to the another friend's apartment last night for "seminarian night out" and we had pizza delivered and we watched "EVAN ALMIGHTY." On the walk back, I was freezing. I'm a wuss.

I have decided that I care too much about some things. Sometimes that is good, and sometimes not so good. This week, it's not so good. I'm talking about the guy who died last year at Restaurant. It will be one year later this week. I didn't even know the guy. Why is it still bothering me?

Don't answer that. I have some insight about it already.

I need to go read some history now so that I will not be buried in the books all weekend long. I have Spiritual Practices small group later today, so I'll be going now. Have a delightful day.

Fun

So, after a week of watching the boys, I got to leave the house tonight for something other than my nightly walk. Sis, BiL, Howard, Sunscreen, and I met BiL's sister and her man at the driving range. I'd never been to a driving range before, but it was really fun. We grabbed our golf bags and "bought" buckets of balls, and whacked around for a couple of hours. Not to sound conceited or whatever, but I was totally impressed with 85% of my hits or so. I'm not too good at distance, but I was pretty consistent in where I hit. So, yeehaw. Plus, it was just a lot of fun.

After teeing around for awhile, we went back to BiL's sister's house and ordered food. I ate way too much, but it was the wonderfulness of Mexican food! Yeah. It was really good. I'm only slightly bummed because I hurt the back of my knee while hitting golf balls, and my head hurts, but all is well.

I'm kinda looking forward to heading back to the castle. I miss my room, my computer, and doing things I've not done before. I miss intelligent conversation and the promise of new friendships and becoming better friends with some of the people I've already met. And, I'm also anxious to get back because I thrive on routine. Before the routine is established, I have a tendency to get a bit nervous. But, once I'm into a routine, I'm totally cool with it, and can even roll with the punches. But, I just want to get into learning Greek and meeting people and what not. From what I've heard, Greek is a really great bonding time. I hope so. I would really love to make new friends and cultivate relationships that are akin to the friendships I made during CPE.

And, I'm also totally looking forward to my good friend Jacki's wedding in a few weeks! It seems so strange that my friends are getting married, but I'm SO happy for them! I could not see myself married at this point at all, but we're all different people.

Anyway, I hope your "Friday the 13th" wasn't too bad. It's weird the way certain days can remind you of things. From now on, Friday the 13th will remind me of the man who died at Restaurant last year. I'm not a superstitious person, because as I've said before, "Good and bad things happen everyday," but it's just one of those thorns in my side, I guess.

I'm off for some sleep that will hopefully rid me of this headache. Hasta.

They like me; They really like me!!

I know you all are probably sick to death of this, but I just am amazed. Tonight, I didn't get to go to work. The weather is just too bad to venture out. The male boss called this afternoon and said that it was just going to be him and his wife doing everything tonight because no one would be in. So, I didn't go for my last day of work. Anyway, I have just been messing around all day, not really doing anything productive at all. I didn't even shovel the walk because I didn't think we'd be going anywhere and I didn't think anyone would be coming here. Boy was I wrong!

I was in the kitchen making spaghetti sauce (one of the ONLY things I can make that doesn't come out of a box) and I was coming out here (my computer is on the front porch) to get online. But, I saw some lights outside that were not moving. I thought, "Gee, I hope no one is stuck on the hill, already." It never fails; every year someone gets stuck on this tiny hill outside of our house because there is a stop sign there that messes up the momentum. But, the lights were facing the wrong way. So, I looked out and someone was standing on the porch. I turned on the light and I think I probably jumped a little because I was startled. But I opened the door and it was a Friday night regular woman. She told me that she and her husband had been to Restaurant to have dinner and to see me off, but I wasn't there, so they thought they'd stop by and give me something. My village is on the way home for them. So, she gave me a big bag and said, "Best of luck!" and then I watched her walk back out to the car. I waved at the husband, and I kicked myself for not having shoveled today.

I went in to the other room and read the card (Cards mean a lot to me) and I opened the bag. In it were two big bath towels, some hand towels, and some wash cloths! And guess what color they were! ORANGE!!! My absolute favorite color (as if you couldn't tell from my bright orange shoelaces. I just can't believe it. I knew people liked me there, but I had no idea that liked me this much. Wow. That's all I can say.

You'd almost think I was the crying sort...

Tonight (well, last night if you want to get technical) I was waitressing at Restaurant. We were busy! People came in all at once, and we were somewhat short on help. But, we managed. The customers were really nice and patient, considering the cook was sort of slow on moving the food out tonight. But, he isn't usually the cook, so he did alright in my book. Anyway, two of my Tuesday night regulars were in on Tuesday, and I told them that I will be done at Restaurant on Friday. So, tonight, near the end, I was figuring up tickets (we don't have that computer thing that does them; it's done by hand) and when I was done, I put my book into my apron pocket. I turned around, and there was the Tuesday night regular man. He said, "Hey Trish! This is for you for your upcoming graduation." He handed me a card with "Trish" on it. I said, "Thank you! I really appreciate that!" And he said, "Congratulations, and good luck!" And then he turned around and left. Once we were all done with work and clean up and everything, I opened the card. It's such a nice card from him and his wife. They even wrote a note in there. It warms my heart to know that people I've come to know from there care enough about me to go out of their way to wish me the best of luck. I know I just blogged about being touched, but here I am, yet again, moved (almost to tears) by the fondness and appreciation people have shown me. A simple card means so much to me. I guess it just goes to show that it doesn't take a large, showy action to show love to those around us. We can be the hands and feet of our Lord by doing a simple action or offering a few encouraging words. I'm amazed. I'm blessed. I'm loved. I'm thankful.

An example of my profound dorkiness!

The other day, I was the hostess at Restaurant. I heard the door open and close, and so I went to the hostess stand near the door. Waiting for me were five regulars. These ladies come in very regularly; almost every Thursday. I feel as if I've gotten to know them to a certain extent. I feel pretty comfortable with them, but I realized maybe I'm a little too comfortable. I saw that it was them and I said, "Hey, 'sup?" And the "ringleader" lady looked at me and said, "'Sup?" in a joking way (she's middle-aged, so you get the drift). I didn't mean to sound like such a teenager (considering I'm not one), but it just came out. So, trying to make up for my little moment of complete and utter lack of formality, I said, "Colloquialism is our friend." And then the ladies just stopped talking, looking at each other, and everything and looked at me with a look like, "What did she just say!?" Ha. So, I realize that I'm a huge dork. I wear this title with pride. Anyway, I'm off. I have an exciting day of statistical analysis waiting for me tomorrow. Thankfully, even though Ma's car isn't ready, I don't have to drive her to work. They have tomorrow off. yay! I like sleep!

And not really a good story, at that.

*big sigh* I'm not sure you all want to read about this, so if you're especially sensitive or not in the mood for a real bummer, please stop reading now.

Friday night, I was at Restaurant. The night was going along fine, although at around 5:30 or 6:00 I started feeling really light-headed and kinda queasy. But, I couldn't just say, "Hey Boss, I don't feel well, so I'm going to go home, ok?" I just stayed. I didn't really feel "sick" per se, I just didn't feel quite right. But anyway, I kept trucking along.

We weren't especially busy Friday, although we had a party of 12 that I waited on. I also waited on a bunch of twos and a few fours and what not. Well, I had my party of 12 all watered, coffeed, and soda-popped. They also had their food. I then had a couple to wait on. At Restaurant, the tables are set up in rows. On the left hand side of the room are tables L1-L5. Then there is row M1-M4 in the middle, and R1-R3 on the right hand side. So, I was waiting on a couple at L2. I had given them their drinks and they ordered and I had just taken their menus when I heard a loud crash at L1 (approximately 10 feet away from me). I looked at this man who looked like he was having a seizure. A few people started murmuring and I threw the menus back down on L2 and dropped my order book into my apron. I ran over to the wife of this man and I said, "Do you need us to call an ambulance?" (Thinking maybe he was epileptic and would snap out of it in a moment and not want the added 'embarrassment' of having had to call the bus). The wife said, "Yes, I think maybe you should." So, I ran into the bar room and said, "Boss, call 911 right now. There's a man in there who needs an ambulance!" I would have called myself, but the phone in the kitchen hasn't been charging and wasn't working at all. So, Boss calls 911 and I run back into the dining room. The man is upright in his chair and his eyes are open, but he is not responding. All of a sudden, someone says, "Does anyone know CPR?!" I say, "I do." So, it seems that all eyes are on me. I think back to my First Aid days and I say, "We need to get him straight on the floor with his head tilted back to establish an airway!" So, the man who was closest grabbed onto this guy and we get him on the floor. By that time, the wife is crying and some other patrons are trying to console her. So, this guy is on the floor and I say, "Tilt his head and listen, look and feel if he's breathing. The guy who lifted him to the floor did that while I put my fingers on his neck to see if he had a pulse. The guy said, "Yeah, I can hear breathing, but it's really shallow. Another woman said, "I feel a pulse" (in his wrist) and I felt a pulse in his neck. Someone says, "Do you need to do CPR?!" And I say, "No. He has a pulse and he's breathing. If we do CPR, we'll hurt him. You can't do CPR so long as they have a pulse. So, by that time, a whole bunch of people are kinda standing around looking at what's going on. Someone from the kitchen brought me a cool washcloth and I (not wanting to put my fingers into an unresponsive man's mouth) try to get the little pieces of food off of his slightly protruding tongue. He didn't have big pieces of food in his mouth, so I don't worry too much about choking, but I wipe him off a little bit in case I was going to have to start rescue breathing. I had realized that he was in fact, probably not having a seizure, but more likely a stroke or heart attack.

So, this man is laying on the floor. I'm kneeling next to him, checking his pulse in his neck, another woman is monitoring his pulse in his wrist, and the man who was helping us kept his face down to make sure the guy was still breathing. Every couple of minutes he would breathe in deep, but then he'd go shallow again. I turn to the wife and say, "Does he take nitro?" She says, "No." Then I hear a woman who had been at the table right next to theirs say, "I have nitro!" I say, "We can't use it if it's not prescribed to him." So we're all there monitoring him. Then, I look up and see this cop standing there, so I move away, thinking he would want to take charge. About the time the cop showed up, people said, "Here are the EMTs" SO I definitely hauled it away from there. I know enough not to try to be a hero and get in the way of EMTS. Unfortunately, the EMTs hadn't actually come IN to the restaurant yet. They had just arrived out front. But they were in very expeditiously. When I left that man, he had a pulse and a heartbeat; although both were weak. And I went into the kitchen to get out of the way. I turn in the order I took right before all this begins. I tell the cook that the food on the counter can't go out right now because it's too the table right next to where the EMTs are about to start working. I look out the kitchen door into the dining room and I see them doing CPR on the guy and then I go out and kind of make sure my customers are doing ok. I didn't know what else to do at that point. Oh yeah, for sanitation's sake, you'll be happy to know as soon as I stepped away from the man, I did go wash my hands thoroughly. About that time, I heard them say, "NO one come near the cot right now." And they shocked him. And they loaded him onto the stretcher and I could see them doing CPR some more and the one EMT telling the wife that they would do everything they could for him.

In the meantime of all this happening, people are using cell phones like crazy trying to find this couple's daughter and son in law. Being from Podunk, I know Daughter and SiL, although I don't know the couple. The wife is sitting there crying and all her consolers have kind of left and I go up to her and say, "Ma'am, do you need anything at all?" and she says, "No, dear. Thank you for your kindness." Then I hear, "D and SiL are going to meet them in HospitalTown." HospitalTown is about 20 minutes away from Podunk, by the way. So the EMTs left and we got everything cleaned up and people were basically stunned and I'm fairly certain upset about what had happened. And I was praying like crazy for that man, and wondering how we would find out if he made it or not.

After they took him, I floated around to the tables to try to calm my nerves (I was physically shaking by that time) when I went back and saw this group who comes in fairly regularly. I said, "How are you all doing back here? Need more tea or water or anything?" And they said, "We're fine. How are you? We saw you jump to action over there." I replied that I was fine, and then I went about doing other things. At the end of the night, I went to Sis's house, as per usual on Fridays because I try to spend weekends there. Needless to say, I didn't sleep real well.

Saturday morning rolls around and I wake up before my alarm goes off. I was having bad dreams, I think. I hear an ambulance go by a few streets down. All of a sudden, Nise comes into "my" room and says, "Trish, you need to get up. We need to go to the hospital." I bolt upright in bed and say, "WHY!?" (thinking the ambulance took someone I know and love) She said, "Mom had to go to the ER. She's having some bleeding." So, we got up, got ready, and left. On the way out of town, we saw Daughter and SiL's van at the funeral home. I guess the man didn't make it. Damn, I feel useless.

You all might be surprised to know that this is not the first time I've attempted to help someone in cardiac duress. When I was 12, I was riding in the car with my younger sister, our friend, and our dad. We had been running some errands when we had a flat tire. Dad got out to fix it and decided that before we went to "town" he needed to clean up. On the way home, he had a heart attack. Because I was in the front seat, I had to get the car stopped before we hit oncoming traffic. I put us in the ditch and Sis and Friend got out. I stayed and tried to give CPR. I didn't know CPR back then though. Dad died that day.

Ever since then, I've had periods where I feel tremendously guilty about not being able to help. I always vowed that if anyone ever had a heart attack in my presence again, I'd do my best to help them. Well, again, it didn't work. And I feel guilty, again. I want to talk to the daughter and tell her that I'm sorry that I couldn't help her dad, but I don't think I could handle it if she was mad at me for not doing more. Deep down, I know that we did all we could to help, but it's still a sore spot for me.

I'm just sad about the whole thing.

Yowza

Do I have a story for you all.

Ay Carumba...

I can't believe it; bowling is almost over. I only have this week to try and bowl my 200 game. Frankly, I don't think I'm going to make it. I came close one day, and have floundered ever since. Oh well. I'm going to get an "A" in the class, and that's the main thing, I guess.

I got a B+ on my first history test. That is somewhat disappointing to me because I want to get an A in order to potentially graduate with some sort of honors. I am hundredths of a point away from graduating Cum Laude. I don't know if I'm going to make that, either... Oh well. There are worse things in life than not getting that stamp on your diploma.

My Capstone Class is FREAKING ME OUT! Yikes. There is a lot of stuff to do and it seems not nearly enough time in which to do it. I'm scared. But you know, December 16 will be here before we know it. I can't wait.

Really, I can't wait till December 1. I am SO INCREDIBLY ready to be done with Restaurant. Ugh. The drama there just... sucks. Yup. That about sums it up.

In other news, my newest nephew is so darn cute I could just eat him up. I was over there yesterday and I picked him up and held him out from me and he just started laughing. Then I put him above my head and said, "Look how high up you are!" and he laughed some more. I love that child so much I could puke. And with that, I'm off. I think I'm going to hit the hay.

Oh yeah, one last thing... No word from Seminary yet. My future still hangs in the balance! I'll let you know when I know. I'm sure you're all dying to hear.

It's a Small World After All

Today, I was walking to bowling here at School. On my trek, I like to go through the student union because it takes less time than walking around through the parking lot. Anyway, I was walking along and minding my own business when I looked up and saw a man who looked oddly familiar. I waved at him and then I realized that I had waited on him, his wife, and his uncle at Restaraunt the night before! I got a little closer, and he stopped, I stopped, and I noticed his wife was there and she also stopped! haha. They had this look of incredulity on their faces when the wife said, "I didn't know you went to school here!" And I said, "Yep, I'm in my last semester" And then our conversation continued on a little bit and we all introduced ourselves to each other (Not something people really do in restaurants with the waitstaff, y'know). And the wife told me she works here, and that if I need anything, I could come to HerHall for help. I was flabbergasted. It was so nice because sometimes I just think of myself as another face that people don't remember outside of the context in which they usually see me. But, these people recognized me from fifty feet away, while I was in completely different clothes, a different setting, and all that good stuff. Granted, these people are incredibly nice to wait on because they are friendly and polite, I still wouldn't have expected them to remember me outside of Restaurant. It was just a nice start to my school day. It makes me feel good. Don't ask me why; it just does.

All that is left for me to do is wait...

I just got word that my final reference for my application to seminary has completed the form and will be sending it out tomorrow. Since I applied online to the seminary I wish to attend yesterday, I now just have to wait to hear if they will accept me or not. It is my fervent prayer that they will accept me for January, but I'm trying to imagine all possible outcomes. For me, things are less heartbreaking if I have at least imagined all possible scenarios. Tonight I was vaccuuming at work and I tried to imagine how I would feel if they told me "no" or "not yet" and the thought of not getting to go makes me kind of sad. Therefore, I really hope they say "Yes!" Anyway, since the Candidacy Committee didn't give me a big fat "no" I have to believe that the Churchwide discernment has led me thus far for a purpose. :) So anyway, that's pretty much all I have to say tonight. That, and 44 working days left till I quit RESTAURANT!!!!!!!!!!! (I'm slightly excited; can you tell?)

An addendum

In response to my last post, I need to say that I am very grateful to the A to the B for being willing to meet with me to be my second rostered reference. I just wanted to make that clear. Because he's a nice guy (from what I know of him) and he is very busy. Despite my general frustration at being held up yet again, I just wanted to let you all know that I am not angry with him. He's cool. I'm just upset at me, really. And I think I'm stressed cuz we have 2 big parties on the books for tomorrow night and it's very stressful because we're not a big restaurant and there are only ever 2 waitresses on Friday nights and that's not enough to deal with 2 big parties and the other people who come in. So, I'm stressing. And Pastor suggested I wait to apply to seminary til I have all the required paperwork, so I guess I'm waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. I have to go to work now. Bye. P.S. remind me to tell you about my "shower experience" that I had today. It'll be worth it.

The end is near!

No, sorry, I'm not prophesying anything here! I'm not the Kentucky Prophesy Guy (Woman, in my case). I have been thinking a lot lately about the future. A million questions have been running through my mind. "Will I be accepted to seminary for January? Will I get in to the extended CPE term? When am I going to quit my job? What do I need to take with me? Am I going to fit in? Will I be able to handle the rigors of theological education? Is this really my calling?" All these questions and some others related to these questions have been running through my mind. But, in my thinking, I at least think I know when I'm leaving Restaurant. I would like my last day to be Friday, December 1st. I plan on graduating on Saturday, December 16, so having two weeks off prior to that will help me get things in order, and will also help me have time to finish up my research. So, as I was driving to school today, I realized that the end is in site for my "career" at Restaurant! I didn't realize it until today that, as much as I like serving the people who I have come to know and love there, I am ready to be gone because of all the drama that is Restaurant. I'm thrilled. I've been there for 9 1/2 years and it is time to move on! So, I'm thrilled. And now, people are standing around waiting for a computer here at school, so I'm going to stop blogging and let someone else have my station. Hasta.

Wow, I feel special!

Labor Day is kind of a big deal 'round my parts. The town in which I live doesn't really do anything, but neighboring small town (NST) has a bunch of festivities. A carnival comes to town, one of the state's largest Bocce ball tournaments is held in NST, and a big Labor Day parade is pretty much the culmination of the festivities. People from all over the area come to put their horses, tractors, floats, legion members, marching bands, and cool cars in the parade. One year, they even had three parachuters jump in on the parade. Unfortunately, one hit a street light or some wires (I remember seeing the accident, but I don't remember what the guy hit; I was not even a teenager at that time) and was seriously injured. They've not done that since. Anyway, so last Thursday I was the hostess at Restaurant. We have a lovely older couple who comes in on Thursdays whom I truly respect. They are just nice people. You know the sort; they always have kind words and ask about life, school, and all that good stuff, and they truly seem to care. Anyway, the Mr.(Whom we shall call Mr. MooCow, because he farmed in his younger days) asked me if I was going to the Labor Day parade. I said, "Usually I do, so probably." He said, "I'll be in it with my '72 Vet." I told him that would be cool, and I asked him if he would be throwing candy. He said, "I don't know if I'll have candy or not. We'll have to see. You know, I'll pick some up and throw it for the kids." So, I said, "If you see me, throw me some!" I was half-joking because the candy is supposed to be for the kids, but really, who can turn down candy? So fast-forward to the parade today. I sat uptown with my sisters, BiL, "Howard" and some other friends and acquaintences. We watched the parade and laughed as all the kids scrambled for the candy that was being thrown around. I looked and looked for Mr. MooCow, but I wasn't seeing him. The parade neared the end and a bunch of corvettes drove past, but no bright yellow, 1972 corvette showed. So, finally, I stood up and looked down the street and saw it coming. So, I sat back down and when he got closer, I saw him throwing butterscotches, tootsie rolls, and peppermints to the kids. And when he got closer yet, I yelled, "HI Mr. MooCow!" and he was doing the rote parade wave. You know, the one where you just turn in the direction of who said your name and wave. But then, he saw me and got a big smile on his face and waved a real wave before reaching down and throwing me two special Baby Ruth bars! Haha. The kids next to me snatched them up, but that was ok. He had "special" candy for me! I just thought that was so nice. He made my day. He really did. People like that make life so much easier and fun. He made the day of some kid he barely knows by just doing one act of niceness that could be overlooked by so many in our fast-paced world. And for people like Mr. MooCow, I say, "Thanks, God."

What's Up?

Hey! I just got back from my 5 year high school class reunion, and wow was it cool. It was held at the restaurant that one of my classmates owns. Social hour began at 5 and lasted until 7 or so. I saw some of my friends and met another classmate's wife. She was really fun. People talked to me about what's going on with me, and I got to be my goofy self. Since social hour was held in the restaurant bar section instead of the regular bar section, I got to see everyone who came in to the restaurant. My friends and classmates were amazed that I knew and talked to just about everyone who walked through the doors. I knew everyone because my classmate's restaurant is right next door to Restaurant where I work, and we don't have a monopoly on the customers. So, I know them because they also come to Restaurant. A good friend's fiance said, "Hey, you already got one part of being a minister down; the whole meet and greet everyone routine!" Haha. So, around 7, we sat at our tables and were served family style dinner with chicken, spaghetti, tortellini, fettuccine alfredo, a baked potato, and salad bar. Included in the price of the evening was also unlimited pop or beer. I drank water most of the night. But, after the meal and after we all schmoozed together for a while, we moved to the bar again while they set up karaoke. My classmate's wife, who we will call "Libby" said, "Hey, we're going to sing a song together, aren't we?" And I said, "I'm TONE DEAF!" and she said, "Nice to meet you Tone Deaf, what do you want to sing?" So, we chose a song and when it was our turn we went up there and sang it. It was so much fun. I have never sung karaoke before because I'm not at all confident in my singing abilities. But, most of the people there were drunk anyway... And, I had a couple of beers and a few shots in me before we went up. I had a blast. We sang the song "What's Up?" by 4 Non-Blondes. Hahah. It was great. After we sang, a classmate came up to me and said, "Hey, you guys did a really good job!" And I said, "Yeah right." And she said, "No, really, everyone was saying what a good job you guys did while you were up there." To which I replied, "Then these people must be drunker than I thought!" Hehe. But, it's good to know that people weren't running for the doors with their hands over their ears screaming for silence! And for only having just met "Libby", I felt like we've been friends for years! So, after we sang, I switched back to water, sobered up, listened to more singers, talked to more of my classmates who came late, and then went home. And now, I sit here writing about my evening in my blog. The only thing I wish was different was that more of my classmates would have shown up. Only about 20 classmates showed up, which is kinda disappointing, but what can ya do? And then several of them left pretty early. Ah well... I had fun anyway. So, I wholeheartedly recommend going to class reunions because it's completely different from your actual high school experience because people grow and change from the kids they were in school. I know I have.