Oops.

Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about this thing. I'm just really, really lazy. Writing, I've found, is just like going to the gym. You have to get into a routine, a set plan, in order to be able to see the benefits of the hard work. Yes, it sucks to wake up at seven in the morning when you don't have to be at work for another four hours. It has to be serious change. And once you get into the habit, not only does it become easier to get to the gym, the opposite is also true. It becomes harder to NOT go to the gym. That is, until, you get out of your routine and you skip a day. And then you skip another day. And another. Then you rationalize your not going to the gym by telling yourself that it's good to skip the gym for a week or two because your body was probably too comfortable with all that exercise and that skipping for a week will trick your body so that when you finally do go back your muscles will have no idea what's going on, turning your body into a fat incinerating furnace. Then, three weeks later you find yourself looking at yourself in the mirror trying to figure out who the fat loser is with the Cheetos crumbs all over his face, wondering, where did that person go who was actually starting to get into shape?
I'm not speaking from personal experience or anything. Hmmm.
Writing this blog has been the same. I went out of town three weeks ago and didn't have any internet connection where I was and so this little project of mine sort of went on the back burner for a few days. Then, when I got back to town I said to myself, "you've already missed a few days; another is no big deal."
That was three weeks ago.
And then something really strange happened. People started asking me why I hadn't written anything. It was like having a weight drop on your foot in the gym (side note: that happened to me one time. My toenail literally bled for three weeks).
So, I'm sorry and I'm flattered. I will try to be more disciplined.
Not really a whole lot going on at the Cedars these days, but for some reason the members have been very vocal about how much of a drag getting older is. I'm not sure if there's anything to that. Maybe they always have and I just haven't been paying attention but I don't think that's it.
At this point I'm going on four hours sleep and I'm reaching for something to write. Finito.

Another Successful "Happy Hour"

I don't know if I told you this; but it's illegal to have a happy hour in North Carolina. It's a violation of the law to lower the price of alcoholic beverages for less than 24 hours. So in stead, we call Fridays, Happy Day now. We still close the bar from 4-6:30 and close it off for strictly drinkin'. But tonight I explained to a few members that now, if they wanted to, they could order a drink at 7:00 am and to have with their mini muffins (that are scooped out with an ice cream scooper and then baked) and bagels and Activia yogurts. And I'll be honest, some of them are so "thrifty" I wouldn't be surprised to someone dressed in a track suit with the News & Observer in one hand, and a cabernet in the other at the continental breakfast. People do it in Europe every day.
This evening, we had "John Dalys" as the Happy Hour special. With the Masters and pollen and warm weather and all the blue skies it seemed like the perfect drink for this evening. We whipped up some orange simple syrup and mixed it with Firefly (that is, honest-to-goodness Sweet Tea flavored vodka) and topped it with lemon-lime soda. It's called a John Daly because it's an alcholic version of an Arnold Palmer. It's a cheap shot; but everybody gets the joke.
Now, one might think, no way would an 80+ year-old drink something as crazy as sweet-tea flavored vodka. And one would be wrong. Don't worry, most misconceptions about "old people" have been exposed at the Cedars. Friday nights prove that many of them are willing to try new things. We decided a long time ago to try to think up something many of them haven't ever had before. And a lot of them are very receptive to new things.
When we made something called Tar Heel Tea (a blue version of a Long Island Iced Tea) some members said "it looks like poison," but they tried it. Some of them even liked it.
When I had my last happy hour before I left for Colorado a server made Jello shots (yes, Jello shots). I was watching old people slam them down like it was finals week at Carolina.
Their sense of adventure is still strong.
And if you've never seen a 93 year take a Jello shot in the shape of a Tar Heel logo, you're life might not mean as much as you think.
That might be a little harsh. You're life probably means a lot despite having seen this; but seeing old people take Jello shots is incredible.

"He Was One Of The Hippies."

If there is one overwhelming positive to working in the bar as opposed to the other dining rooms at the Cedars, it's the casual feel of the room. It's dark room but it isn't dull. Warmth is what you feel (though members always complain it's cold). Rich wood lines the floor and ceiling; muted reds, greens, and gold make up the carpet. Black solid granite makes the bar. I think it's granite but I don't know for sure.
If you're looking for a laid back, casual, easy meal, then Bob's Speakeasy (the bar's God-given name) is the place for you. The pace for the staff working in the bar is anything but laid back, but still, the overall vibe of the room opens it up to warm conversation. I mean I've had some of the greatest conversations of my life in that room and I've heard (read: eavesdropped) some doozies between the members. Sometimes, the discussions can catch you off guard. Case in point:
Tonight I went to clear the dinner plates at Table 7. That's in the back left-hand corner of the bar (if you're standing behind the bar looking out at the tables) next to a window that looks out into the lobby and the grand piano.
I had noticed the couple there in deep conversation before I got there and when I was about to ask what they'd like to have dessert the lady turned to me and looked up.
"Kent, what do you think about legalizing medical marijuana in California?"
Now, this is one of those women you see and could bundle into the "cutest, sweetest little-old-lady-in-the-world" debate. I was in shock that she would ask this question, even more so that I was asked to chime in on the discussion. But I couldn't resist (note: I don't dare divulge my actual thoughts on the subject. This is for time's sake and also I just don't want to go there you, OK?). As I spoke they nodded and several times said, "I guess I never really considered that, or, "that's a good point."
After I was done with my schpiel (I don't know how to spell schpiel) they looked at me and they looked at each other and I looked at them and we all nodded. And then came the amazing part.
The gentleman at the table looked up at me and offered up this little tidbit.
"Well, as I was explaining to [the lady's first name] earlier, my son used to smoke marijuana when he was in college. He was one of the hippies. I used to smell it in his room when he would come home to visit. But once he got a job he never touched the stuff again."
The man was on the right subject but his offering wasn't totally relevant. But I loved it because it was honest and sincere. Also, because he used the phrase "he was one of the hippies" in a real-life conversation.
Confession time, I can't believe that I'm called upon as a source of information for these members as I often am. But I am. Since 2005 I have explained iPods, twitter, Wilkesboro's Moonshine supremacy, the appeal of NASCAR, etc, etc, this isn't even close to the tip of the iceberg in relation to the information I've given out. And secretly, I love it. And for as many times as I've doled "knowledge" out, I've been on the receiving end on some amazing info too.
After we talked about pot, I took the couple's dessert order. Decaf black for the lady, (she only indulges in sweets on Saturday) tiramisu cheesecake with a scoop of vanilla for the gentleman (he indulges in sweets every day of the week).

New Nike Commercial for Tiger

I just saw this new Nike commercial for Tiger Woods. It features the voice of his late father. Whoever came up with this is a genius.

Pointers

Forget everything else you've got to worry about. The pollen here is out. of. control.
You leave footprints in it when you walk. You swallow it when you breathe in. If you step outside for more than 30 seconds it settles on you. I feel like we've been crop dusted.
Would you like to know how to piss your server off the fastest?
Walk in to a place, and before you even acknowledge the server, tell them these four words:
"We're in a hurry."
This is frustrating for several reasons.
1) Servers have a cadence, a routine they to start a table off. When you interrupt our routines it throws everything off and we get flustered. So, let us GREET YOU; let us tell you if there is anything special about the menu; let us take your drink orders.
2) I don't control how fast your food comes out. That's on the kitchen. There are other people in the restaurant who were here before you. There food will come out before yours 9 times out of ten. Weird, huh? Get over it. Don't look at your server, or worse, flag your server down or yell at him or her from across the restaurant.
3) Why would you think I want you at a table for longer than I had to have you in it anyway? Please.
If you're "in a hurry," let us at least greet you and then tell you what's going on. Then, say something like, "I know you're busy but if it's at all possible we would like to get out of here as quickly as we can."
It probably wouldn't hurt to make up a story about a sick kid or having to pick up a puppy from the vet or something either.

Yes, I know this is a weak post but I feel like I need to do this every day and I had nothing today.

Until We Live To Work

"Every dollar counts.
And every morning hurts.
We mostly work to live
Until we live to work."
- From the song Run by Vampire Weekend.

The work is easy at the Cedars. But working at the Cedars is not easy. No, Yogi Berra did not coin that phrase. I know that every job gets old. But this one is beyond old. My relationships with the members at the Cedars are very meaningful and important to me. But I see the same people every day. For the most part they sit in the same chairs. Some of them order the same food. Many of them say the same things.
"Can I get some more sweet tea, no ice?"
"Do you have ham sandwiches?"
"You have to have a Master's in engineering to open these [Saltine crackers] things."
Day in. Day out. It never changes and it seems like it never ends. Work is work and it's supposed to be hard and it's supposed to be trying. But when every day is the exact same it gets to be unbearable. Every time you turn around somebody needs something and the want it immediately. And then, as soon as that's accomplished there's someone in another chair demanding a ham & swiss and they haven't even said hello to you. Why does it seem like so many of these people are in a frantic hurry to go nowhere?
Maybe they feel the same about living there.
I don't know.
Tomorrow is a day off and it is very much needed.

Rock Bottom

Dook is cutting down the nets right now. This is what rock bottom feels like. I changed the background colors and font color on the blog so it would be easier on the eyes. You're welcome.