Author: Allegra

Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

Katie is awesome

She really really is! She proved her worth repeatedly during the shop (and its aftermath) this morning.  A good partner.  She’s showering and gearing up for a day spent with friends right now.

I am going to have a lazy Sunday, and plan tomorrow… a day when my oldest child turns 27.  Anything I say on the subject is going to draw a hollow horse laugh from the cherished progenitors, so I shall turn the subject to something else.

We have precisely one catering job for July and my task tomorrow (after I see the doc about apnea stuff) will be to devise a plan to git moar bizness.  I am going in in the morning before the doc appointment to make cheese scones ( a great way to dispose of leftover sliced cheese from the previous week).  Also, I learned from Nevada, the renter who hopefully will come in August, that if you proof the biscotti in loaf format you save a pile of time and effort; the biscotti made that way were so good that I started crying when I ate them, and declared “Best biscotti evar!” and so you can see why I was glad that Jeff and I got the leftovers for that batch but the rest of the batch went to the second best user desk staffer I ever met, former colleague from Schneider, Mike.  (Jeff comes first OF COURSE). He useta love it when I brought in biscotti, and me knowing that keeping the IT guys happy was a prerequisite for happy corporate serfdom, he always got his share.  Now he pays!  bwa ha ha!
Otherwise we had a slow day, but it certainly had other compensations.

 

Now to laundry and loafing…

Nonsense song

I can’t fly but I’ve learned to dance
I’ve got a mustelid in my pants
If I hold still maybe you can grab it
I think he’s in there after the rabbit
and if you ask how did a rabbit git
into the pants of my new outfit
I tell you I don’t make a habit
of being habitat for any passing rabbit.

There is fresh chocochunk cheesecake and I’ma make a batch of biscotti later.

Eddie you old codger

Eddie is the senior cat in the household.  He’s 15 or 16, and while his back end is starting to be saggy, he’s a very sleek and healthy cat who simply despises Miss Margot…. or pretends to.

Last night Jeff and I were watching the thrilling conclusion of the 1st season of Veronica Mars when Eddie started to howl.

Normally he howls when he’s caught something and brought it back into the house or he howls from existential angst.  This time it was low, sad howls, and he didn’t want to move away from the cat door.

I looked at my brother and said in a horrified whisper, “Where is Margot?” Normally when we watch tv she’s parked at the top of the stairs or on the floor close to the tv.

The two of us leaped up and searched the house.  Jeff popped the front door and Margot bolted into the house from her hiding place under my car, where she’d obviously been trapped by another cat.

Which is how we learned that he has a special call when Margot is in trouble, because that’s how he was the last time he rescued Margot (she got locked in the garage). He got many skritches for his assistance, and Margot of course is impervious to correction or comment.

No, I am not a misandrist

If I see another frakking opinion piece that starts out “Real Men Don’t…” I’m gonna lose it. If you have a preference about what the men in *your* life do or how they treat their lives or you, please don’t preface it with that ill thought out attention grabber. Otherwise it’s just you wishing that the men you deal with had been brought up better or alternatively cared about you at all. (Gosh, isn’t it amazing that all those opinion pieces about men’s behaviour bind them to what’s currently FASHIONABLE? GAH.) And by a cruel trick of rhetoric, that will lead directly to me writing an opinion piece that starts out “Real men wear dresses and put baby animals on their heads, BECAUSE I SAID SO.”

What I learned in June 2013

I learned that a car with no insurance, no driver, and the e-brake engaged can still hit your car if a garbage truck hits it and sends it into your car. I learned that just thinking about something sweet that the kids did for me when they were six years old can make me cry. I learned that raising children who voluntarily and out of their own pockets go visit their grandparents is one of the most poignant joys of parenthood because despite everything you did wrong you and your spouse did something ever so right. I learned that nothing sits in the guilty comforts zone like air conditioning. I learned that I have sleep apnea, and with no medical I’m in for a lovely and expensive treat. I learned that every time your children take on adult attitudes and roles you get hit three times; once HEY YOU’RE OLD MOM, twice HEY I LEARNED THIS EARLIER THAN YOU DID and HEY I AM A SEPARATE HUMAN FROM YOU. I learned that whenever your kids do something stupid you still blame yourself and that doesn’t seem to let up with time. I learned that I’d rather fix than replace anything. I learned that if I don’t cook with love it doesn’t turn out, and I shouldn’t cook if I’m not feeling the love. Which is how I learned that I’m still a dilettante when it comes to restaurant scale food production.

hot hot hot heat

Man, it’s ROASTING IN HERE. And Katie, because she is a fucking genius, came in yesterday when it was much cooler and did all the baking.  So instead of being ROASTING PLUS HELLISH it’s just roasting.

I can haz iced coffee!

Today we await the formal opening of the community centre and we’re doing a bit of rearranging in the shop.  Thanks to Jeff’s computer madskillz we have the menu on the shop tv!

Okay, enough of this beetling about on the internet, I have bags of lentils to move.

A new beginning

Monday we’ll be open 7 to 7 six days straight. Part of me is sad I won’t be spending as much time with Katie. But we now can do what needs to be done over the course of the day and we just need to bite the bullet and DO.

 

The ovens will be about $1.5k to fix.  Given that they’d be 5 to 6k each to replace I figure we are getting off lightly. The top oven is working safely again but a draft diverter is the next major expense. Who knew that the fans for Bertha’s compressor would wreak such havoc on the gas ovens. Damned good thing we keep both doors open for ventilation most of the time. Oddly enough the temperature regulation for #1 Dragon was bang on all the way through these trials,  which says a lot for the quality of these Canadian made pizza ovens.

 

I have an enormous list of things to do this weekend.  If I get through a third of it I’ll be happy.

 

 

Katie’s like GRRR

Yeah, about texting her about crap at the shop that she can’t do anything about?  Notsomuch.  Didn’t get here until really late.  Katie’s still feeling poorly.

 

I am still loving it, and it’s still a challenge.

I don’t have enough to look forward to… I think that’s my problem. But I am looking forward to having Nevada’s amazing buns to sell!  Yup, her name is Nevada. Which I love, as it means snow capped mountain.  Kinda appropriate for around these parts.

Man, I’m so glad we didn’t get that contract!

Katie’s sick with her tooth (pain swelling etc) and so did not come to work today.  Tom, may the blessings of a thousand universes brighten his life, came in and fixed the fan situation with Bertha, with the net result that airflow through the cafe as a whole is improved.

 

Then the Garland quit.  I think it’s the regulator.  All of a sudden 4 inch flames are coming out the front of it and it’s instantly red hot.  I’ve called Key Food Equipment and since I don’t have an account set up they just put $500 on my credit card and will refund me (ha!) any parts or labour not covered.  Given that their hourly is $109 I don’t imagine that down payment will last too long.  Ah, well, if it means that we can get both ovens running properly, that’s all good. It has to be serviceable for the renter anyway.

 

HOWEVER.  Tom ordered 4 dozen biscotti and I now have no place safe to cook it, or won’t until tomorrow, and I have a hard deadline of tomorrow night because they are leaving on a vacation in the morning.  They deserve it but it’s crunch time.

 

Found out that the 220 for the proofer will be a snap, it’s already plumbed in close to where it’s going.

 

The renter and Fraser Health are about to have a meeting in my shop.  It’s kind of a weird feeling.

lord love a duck

This happened mere blocks from my house.  Further to which, there will be explosions in south Burnaby tonight, but that is because they are filming a movie.

Off tonight to see the Dandy Warhols play through my fave album of theirs.

Katie  had her second last wisdom tooth out.  It came out clean as a whistle; the hard one comes later.  Right now she’s collapsed out on her bed; I went to fetch her from the dentist and she was maudlin in her gratitude.  Note to self – never have a wisdom tooth pulled out when you’re hungover.  Katie has been very abstemious of late but really decided to tie one on last night; I know why.

This next week she’ll have to be a very good girl indeed.  We’re going to be icing cookies until the end of time, by the look of things.

The famed Scandinavian practice of wife carrying comes to Burnaby.

Do want. this is a tshirt, sfw.

Do want.  And I thought I wanted a mass spectrometer, silly me.

Everytime I think the tories are going to do something good, it turns out to be fucking window dressing.

Jeff caught up to me on Life, and we are now watching it together.  There is a thing called Netflix adultery… it’s best not to cross that line. We’re looking arond for something else to watch.

And now, some capybara lovin fer me mOm.

 

 

huge catering job

We’ve been asked to quote on a thousand iced cookies for July 1.  For the opening of Edmonds Community Center.  (Cue screaming and dancing around the shop like fracking idiots.)

I opened communications with the purchaser but Katie’s totally grabbed the reins on this one, and I am tagging along with that big goofy grin that loving parents get when their kids are doing something berloody awesome.  Paul came in to grab a bowl of soup (and Katie’s Red Velvet cupcakes, which are like clouds with cream cheese icing, so fluffy and delicious ermagerd).

And I had TWO big orders of biscotti this week,  I have to do more baking tomorrow so this is me signing off and getting another batch on before we close up today.  Katie’s gone home early to try and sell Izzy.  It is sad but necessary.

So, busy, happy, and thinking holy crap, it’s ON.

Climate change is happening

Run away, deny, decry the experts, say it’s in God’s hands, watEVer.

It’s a cheesecake day at the Café. One biggun one smallun.

I’m sleeping really crappy. I am sipping a nice foamy chai latte by way of apologizing to myself.

I am scared of the changes to the cafe after July 1.  We’ll be open 6 days, 12 hours, which means I’ll be working a 15 hour day three days a week and I don’t know if my poor old body will stand it.  I also get to work Saturday, which is a super busy day according to the sweet gal who works at the Russian deli.  We shall see.  I’ll have Sunday through Wednesday off unless Katie asks for vacation.  We’ll be closed the two weeks between Christmas and New Years.

 

 

 

what a sh#tshow yesterday was…

after the morning, which was emotionally exhausting and frankly a new recent low point, I went into the shop to bake and wash dishes, and within minutes I was lying on the floor wondering what the fuck just happened.

I skidded on a piece of plastic on the floor, collided with the pizza oven, and then the sweet sweet floor rose up to meet me.  I never hit my head or lost consciousness, so I was able to immediately diagnose that I’d dislocated my right shoulder.  I got up from the floor walking like a zombie and shot through with pain, called Jeff, and he couldn’t come get me because he was having mobility issues of his own.  I called 911 and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  I was coping with levels of pain and disorientation that are right up there with giving birth unattended.  I couldn’t control my breathing and I was sweating so hard I couldn’t see.

The boys from #2 firehouse came and attempted to administer oxygen, and tried to put my arm in a sling but I was screaming and crying a little too enthusiastically for that. The firemen were very kind.  I did a lot of moaning and crying waiting for the ambulance.   After a very very long wait for the ambulance (yesterday was a record day for the Emerg because of a lot of MVA’s roof falls tree falls and other crush injuries (the announcements for cleanup help in emerg got squawkier and squawkier while I was in MTU)) I finally dipped my beak in some blessed, blessed nitrous, which doesn’t kill pain as much as it prevents you from screaming about it.

After the eternity of a twenty minute ambo ride I was shoved against the wall in triage and Dr. Lim came within 5 minutes and said, “I don’t think it’s dislocated.” And I said, then why does it hurt like a mofo and I’m walking like a zombie??? He checked again and faster than it takes to describe it, the ball went back in the socket.

Then many hours of waiting for xrays and results, and then I was released with a referral to a bone doc, 6 T3s, movement instructions and a sling, since it turns out the shoulder is broken as well as formerly dislocated.  Right shoulder OF COURSE.

I slept about as well as could be expected and am now attempting to come to terms with what is going to be a longish and interesting recovery. The shop will have to be sold, I can’t do nothing for 6 weeks or however long this takes.  I’ll know more on the 26th when I see the bone doc. I did advise that I have extensive numbness down that arm and that my two outside fingers are very tingly and weak; whether this presages really bad news for that nerve or is just my response to swelling who knows; Jeff advised me to be optimistic but not to lighten up about knowing what’s going on which I think is fine advice.

I am very glad I don’t live alone.  I am super grateful to my church family, who have been souls of kindness.

I had a weekend with a lot of Life in it

This kind of Life.  Love that show.

Also laundry, and mandolin practice, and poetry and a yummy lamb shoulder at Yianni’s with Katie.  I even ran the dishwasher!

Now I am enjoying the glorious pale blue sky and the steady breeze of the fans… I know it will only be hot for a few short months, but right now when we turn the oven on it gets durned hot in here at the shop.

Only people who have come in today are regulars.  But they love those muffins, that Ham Slap, that soup.  And so they return.

 

I updated my LinkedIn profile, but I think I did it wrong.  We shall see.  I update facebook and twitter every day the cafe is open.

 

Somebody came in who doesn’t speak a lot of English and pointed at the pistachio biscotti in the display.  She took one bite after she left the shop, pivotted on her heel and came back for three more.  It’s things like that which keep me engaged.

 

Such yummy muffins this morning, but everybody wants to know about cheesecake, for some reason.

 

 

On reading Virtualis

On reading Virtualis.

The world is an urn and a flowerpot

whirled through a thousand fractures

presented as fresh each day

a new grief / a best guess

remonstrating with that first flame.

The catchment area of consciousness

manifesting without irony

ever pointing at pressure, heat & dispersal

no mouth, no eyes, and yet there is a record.

 

Sad to walk

under a pitted and still perfect moon

to speculate of other lives suspended

in that backdrop, radiant with stars.

For they are there, attending whirligig systems

and that distance can be spanned

with all these fragile linkages

the coded tithes of empathy

as my thoughts consent to be used this way.

 

I will imagine you, poet

perceiving me across this gulf

and lose all place and time

before a sky transformed into an altar.