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anniversaries
On Wednesday, John and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary, and the eighth anniversary of our first date. And Thursday marked the fifth anniversary of this blog ~ begun as a cooking blog, as I figured out my way around a kitchen, and then becoming something else entirely. Later this month, we’ll celebrate John’s birthday, which also serves as the year mark of my little brother meeting his lady-love, Joanna. And in September, Joanna will move to Austin and they will begin a joint life. Everyone, hold your breath ;).
I’m a big birthday and anniversary person. I believe in celebrating people, not only for who they are, but for what they’ve been dedicated to. Today serves as the last day of work for a man who pre-dates me at our company. I think ~ besides my boss ~ he’s the only one left who ranks above me for longevity. Over six and a half years, and now he’s moving on, to do something different. To learn from someone new. My heart broke a little when I hugged him goodbye ~ sweaty and hot from moving offices (again. for the seventh time). I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye. I was sad that we weren’t doing something more to thank him for the years he’s worked with us. But my boss (the owner) doesn’t really believe in anniversaries, or acknowledging people’s time with the company. I hit year after year in January, and he’s never once given any indication of knowing that it’s my anniversary.
I think it’s important to celebrate people. To say thank you for your time. Thank you for your existence. Thank you for your dedication, your loyalty. I think it encourages people, makes them feel appreciated. I love celebrating things with my hubs because I like knowing that after all this time, after all these shared memories and our joint lives, we still laugh together, our eyes still sparkle when they meet, we still turn to each other when things get tough. We know each other better, we understand each other’s ebbs and flows. It’s a good thing ~ that one day we will have shared more time than spent it apart.
It’s already hard to get through the day, to keep your head up when one thing after another comes crashing in after you. Saying thank you, for your time, for your spirit, for your thoughts and contributions ~ it’s a big deal.
I’m sad that Haronn is leaving us. I’m sad that he won’t be opening dough or garnishing pizzas the next time I rush through the restaurant. He won’t be there to harass me about something or give me a message for my husband about football.
I wish him all the luck in the world. And a small part of my heart is deflated, knowing that soon, other people will know that he loves the Green Bay Packers and Brett Favre; that he doesn’t allow his children to believe in Santa because he works hard and they should know that he got them their gifts, not some bearded man in a red suit.
I’m sad that life is moving on, and changing, and no one asked if I was okay with it.
what I do, who I am
The man and I decided to lounge by our fire tonight. It was a long, gray, wet day with the prospect of another long, gray, wet day on the horizon. So Lucy and I curled up on the couch, with John in a lounge chair, with the music filling the house with the sounds of Melody Gardot, Ella Fitzgerald, and Frank Sinatra and fire gently crackling in the background.
I began to think, as the day wound down and the tension began to ease from my shoulder blades, about how long I’ve really been in the hospitality industry. I remember working the concession stand for my brother’s little league team — selling all sorts of colorful candy treats to parents and friends there to watch the games. And helping out at my aunt’s campground in my teens — learning very quickly that the British and Americans spoke two different versions of the same language. Beginning my first high school job bussing tables and running food at an exceptional eatery and learning the elegance of casual fine dining first hand — the knowledge needed to properly ensure a diner’s enjoyment. Three years hawking burgers and loaded potato skins at a huge corporate operation (and in multiple locations to boot!) that taught me nothing if not systems and their effectiveness. I thought about my ex-Uncle and all the things he taught me about steps of service, how to clear a table, properly pour a bottle of wine, to appreciate the artistry of a chef.
It isn’t surprising at all that I’ve found myself fully immersed in the industry in my mid-thirties — even if I spent a lot more of my time waiting tables bemoaning it and wishing myself anywhere else than appreciating the knowledge base I was growing. I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with restaurants. It’s hard, back-breaking work with very little lasting financial reward and it’s every day, all day and night. On national holidays, restaurants have additional staff. Not less, and they certainly aren’t enjoying the day like everyone else.
But somehow, i can’t imagine doing anything else. I live it and I breathe it. It’s an integral part of who I am. If I know nothing, I at least know restaurants. The culture, the ebb and flow, the politics. It brutalizes you, pulling you back when you most want to leave. It’s an addiction, a constant fight for perfection that will never occur. I’m so indescribably proud of my little restaurant and all it has provided a foundation for: new locations, new concepts, more brilliant restauranteurs and chefs. And yet it absolutely breaks me on a daily basis, pushing my patience and capabilities to their absolute limit. It makes me want to quit, it often makes me cry. But it also lifts me up at unexpected moments, and brings such unadulterated joy for flashes of time.
It doesn’t surprise me at all, when I think back and look at the path I’ve walked, that I am the director of a restaurant company. But it also takes me completely by surprise that this is where I’ve gotten to, because despite all the experience and all the time in the trenches, I still feel as though I know nothing at all.
migraine
So, as one may have surmised, this week has been heavy on the stress.
And now, despite a ton of water, taking out my contacts, washing my face, and popping some Excedrin, my head is still pounding like a champion behind my left eye.
Sometimes the intense nature of my job catches up with me. Don’t get me wrong — I actually love what I do. I feel like it’s the perfect combination of restaurant and business and I think I’m (usually) pretty good at it. I certainly stumble (as we all do) and I am always learning. The company is growing, and that means there are more things to consider, but it also means more options.
It also means there are more people interested in how and why we do what we do. And that microscope is on me, since I run the daily business operations. It can be slightly overwhelming and exhausting. Especially since I already have the nifty handicap of having MS (which restricts how many hours a day I can work — because I need my rest, otherwise sh*t hits the fan).
All of that, plus a house in boxes, and the excited anticipation of buying our first home — well, it’s a lot for this little girl. And now, this migraine is making me stop and take a break.
the grind
And we find ourselves, as per the usual, back again at Monday.
Today wasn’t quite as intense as last Monday. Work still felt like I was wading through quicksand — really difficult and really slow. But I didn’t shake all day. I got things done, slowly and quietly crossing things off the list.
As I was driving home, listening to my most favorite app, audible.com, I began to think about who I am as a person. Don’t worry. It didn’t come out of left field — it started with my upcoming business trip. A quick trip to LA to eat some good food and help to bring shape to our newest restaurant concept.
We’re staying at a very nice hotel. Apparently, it has quite the pool scene (I imagine the MTV beach house — but that’s probably my imagination and my age). No spa though. According to the website, it’s 2 miles from a lot of things. I’m sort of at a loss as to what I’m going to do with all my free time.
This is where the afore-mentioned thought process began.
I’m a girl — woman, whatever — who listens to books about King Arthur on audible. I’m not listening to the ‘cool’ books, or the ‘trendy’ books. I’m listening to historical fiction or gentle portraits of a human’s life. There’s nothing edgy about me, I watch Newsroom on repeat, am currently binge-watching Madam Secretary [and wondering why I don’t do work every day that has a bigger impact on the American experience], and I love LoTR, Star Wars, Batman and Rocky. I go to bed before 9.30pm most nights. I like to talk about football, current events, history, food and books. I have never done drugs. Like, for real and I went to school for theatre and have been in the restaurant business more than half my life.
And I’m okay with all of that. I like me, I like the things I like — I find comfort in the choices I make and the things I enjoy. I’m not delusional enough to think that any of it makes me cool, or trendy, or cutting edge (which would help out in the business that I’m in).
But sometimes, I feel like a square peg in a round hole. As though I’m in a world and profession in which I don’t belong. My husband listens to my rambles and attributes it to my occasional, intense struggles with SAD. I’m not sure what it is — maybe just having a moment of detachment, Who can say for sure?
Maybe I’m just having a case of the Mondays. And that’s okay, right?
a moment of truth
Trying to blog every day has been much more challenging that I anticipated. I have posted more than once about what this space has become for me — my ideas and intentions. And inevitably I have fallen short — distracted by life and without very good reasons for my neglect other than sheer laziness.
I’m not saying that to be overly harsh to myself or to evoke any pity. I don’t have any other word to describe the reality that so often, doing nothing at the end of a day is so much more appealing than doing anything constructive. My brain is so fried and overworked, all I want to do is shut off. Blogging — while usually cathartic — does not allow my brain to shut off.
2015 has come in with bang and John and I have no deep winter lull as the weather freezes around us — he’s away in Cancun for five days beginning tomorrow and is only home for two before I’m off to LA for work. And then he’s off to NYC again for work before the end of the month. I am not used to such an absurdly active January. I mean — before we know it the seasons will be changing and summer will be here.
I also seem to habitually forget (perhaps mentally block?) the extreme pressure and stress of my job in January. It’s beyond crazy. I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind and one of the thousand balls I have suspended in the air is going to crash and splinter and fall through the cracks. And if one does, businesses are jeopardized, thousands of dollars are at stake and many people’s livelihoods are put on the line. That’s some real sh*t, lemme tell you.
But when I have had a moment of overwhelming paralysis this week, I’ve also reminded myself that this business and insanity have given us a good life. And that’s a bigger blessing than anything. So I’m going to keep pushing myself to come to this space every day, even if what I write is stupidly inconsequential. And I’m going to keep on being grateful for the pressure and the busy-ness because it has given John and I so many gifts.
And that being said, I’m off to bed.
panic attack
Right now, my eyelids are so heavy and my mind is so thick I cannot guarantee that this post will make any sense.
Today was a flurry of anxiety, frustration, fear and utter despair. I honestly wondered halfway through the day how I’d possibly done my job successfully to this point. I felt as though I was drowning. I try to learn every day at work — learn a little bit more about accounting, learn a little bit more about HR, learn a little bit more about insurance. Sometimes I feel as though my head is going to explode. Often I feel as though I’m failing. Luckily, and by the grace of God combined with a little hard work and elbow grease on my part, I’ve managed to be fairly decent at what I do, and I keep growing as the business grows — I guess that’s all I can ask for.
But amidst the growth and learning and keeping things rolling along come days like today. Ooof.
It’s somewhat surreal to shake uncontrollably for the majority of your day and not have a clear idea how to make it stop. But eventually, as another wave of panic seemed to engulf me, I realized I’d gotten through the majority of my to-do list, and I was safe to hit the road and head home.
Lucy had come to work with me (a leaky pipe and the necessity of a plumber shutting off the water is always the way a person likes to begin their first week of the new year). So we packed up my (overstuffed) bag and headed home.
I thought about my resolutions on my drive home — I actually thought about them a lot as I lay in the murky early morning darkness trying to settle my wildly pounding heart. Anxiety is the worst. But beginning each day by confirming that it is going to be a good day — SO HARD.
And yet, I sort of think it made today a little better. So that’s a start.
D5 Creation