Saturday, March 29, 2008

No one is as capable of gratitude as one who has emerged from the kingdom of night. ~ Elie Wiesel

It's been a crazy-busy couple of weeks at the restaurant and I've been more exhausted than usual. I started crying while trying to fall asleep Wednesday night because my feet hurt so much. After buying new work shoes and sleeping with my feet elevated a few nights, I'm in a lot less pain now, and I've made 7-8-ish p.m. my bedtime the past couple of nights to help combat the fatigue. Today was a better day, and I'll have a day off after this weekend. During the simultaneous chaotic breakfast-cooking and banquet-preparing the other day, though, the little duck above was spotted on a plate sent back to the kitchen to wash. The other cook and I oohed and ahhed over the sight and took this picture while we marveled that such a thing had magically emerged from just the leftover cereal pieces and scrambled eggs on someone's plate. It wasn't until I shared the picture with Mike later and he said, "So someone pushed their food together to make the duck for you guys to find?" that I realized that that's how this "magic" occurred. I would prefer to believe that this "just happened," but if an anonymous customer took the time to do something to give us a smile while we worked, I count that as magic too. We needed the time-out and laughter this week. Thank You, Unknown Breakfast Leftovers Artist. :)

Sunday, March 9, 2008

I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that...I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden. ~ A. Crowley

We had a day of near-70-degree weather this past week and now another couple inches of snow is on the ground. I am more than ready for spring. Especially because I had to leave my sweet little garden behind when I moved last fall, I am eager to see vivid colors outside again. Today is blindingly bright here, which is a wonderful change of pace, with the sunshine making all the snow sparkle, and I'll bundle up this afternoon in the many winter layers I am so tired of wearing and go for a long walk, but I am longing to see my beloved Daffodils sprouting up in yards all over town, to notice Forsythias and countless trees when they first start to turn their spring yellow-green, to smell heavenly Lilac bushes again, to watch Roses' blooms uncoil, and to feel cool grass under my bare feet again. I had a crying jag Thursday afternoon after spotting bulbs' shoots sprouting up in a neighbor's backyard on my walk home from work. I wanted so badly to be living in her tiny little house--one of the only tiny houses in the neighborhood, as all the rest are 3-or-more-floor Victorians converted into apartments--and making plans for that little yard. I wanted her soon-blooming flowers and her trees and her small back porch and her lawn chair and her bird houses. . . . I am happy here and Life is good in so many ways, but I miss my garden and I ache for the dream home I have wanted for so long.

My mom sent me a little "fun money" tucked into a letter yesterday and I will use a bit of it today to treat myself to a flower and a gardening magazine. And between chores today, I will daydream about my little pink and white cottage garden that I miss so much, and I will work on my visions for my next one--even if "bloom[ing] where [I'm] planted" in this case finds me beautifying my fire escape.