I am really starting to get annoyed with the fact that my schedule is keeping me from the important things in my life. Things like people watching at the movie theater, and blogging...

And today as I sit here I am exhausted - utterly exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. And when you are behind the 8-ball mentally to start, having the exhaustion thing is just dangerous.

The Restaurant has been insanely busy. Which is such a huge blessing. We've had a couple nights of line-ups again, but thankfully no phone calls complaining about the line-ups. I did get a complaint that our portions were too big, and seemingly impossible to eat at one sitting. It is starting to become clear to me that I need to change the entire focus of The Restaurant. I need to cut portions, refuse patrons when busy, replace the menu with suggestion boxes at each table, and put a jungle gym in the center of the dining room so that when a 14-top walks in the door - sans reservations or calling ahead - and decided they will split up by putting all the children at one table, and all the adults 4 tables over, it will give the kids something to do rather than tossing lettuce at one another...and ultimately all over the floor.

But then, its not just us. There seems to be an overall theme of really insane behavior.

I was at The Flower Shop the other day ordering fresh flowers when a customer came in to complain. Apparently the day before an arrangement had gone out for delivery but they were not home to receive it. So a card was left, and a phone message was left, saying "We were here, please call us for a convenient time to deliver." So this lady came storming into the flower shop ranting about the fact that she cannot wait all day for a flower delivery, and all she did was go out to the bank, and why could they just not have driven around or waited in her driveway for her return. She then went on to state that she knew the flowers were from her Veterinarian - he was sending them and a kind gesture for the passing of her cat. But now because the flower shop was too inconsiderate to wait for someone to get home she has had to delay her mourning of said cat for one entire day. And now her week was ruined because everything had to be delayed a day.

I tried to busy myself with other things as not to indicate I was sticking by the counter merely to watch this all play out, and I had to turn my head to hide the giggles that were bubbling on the surface. When she left, I could no longer contain them. The Flower Shop Owner - also my friend - looked and me and said, "What in the Holy Hell is going on in this world?"

"I have no idea", I said. "But it has become clear to me that I am not the source of so much angst for people, clearly you are out there ruining lives as well."

Good times all around people - good times all around...

I don't think it is any big secret how I feel about communal eating. As hard as I try to be open minded, and not be such a snob, the real me comes out and stands in defiance over dining establishments that force me to stand in line behind the guy who just came out of the bathroom - no evidence of hand washing - and wait while he digs through all the chicken to find the perfect piece for him.

It also brings me back to my days in high school where our crazy old art teacher used to walk through the line and randomly pick food off each of our trays. He once buried a just-licked finger deep into my taco salad to retrieve an olive. The Lunch Ladies graciously gave me a new salad, but it sort of set the tone for my inability to stand in line for a meal that other people have rummaged through.

This same thought overcame me yesterday as I stood in line for a cup of coffee at The Grocery Store. Because no longer are grocery stores just places where you can get food commodities - you can now do your banking, have a coffee, get your car waxed and have a pedicure while waiting for Deli Girl to slice your salami. (Which is not a metaphor - so don't even go there...)

So I am waiting for nice Starbucks girl to get me my drip coffee, "Yes I just want drip... no thanks, no flavoring, please. No cream. No sugar... right... just drip", when I see a man start rummaging his way through The Olive Bar. He methodically went through each olive bin to taste each olive - something the store encourages. Which is fine. Take an olive, shut the lid. Like it - buy it. Don't like it - move on. But this guy took it to the next level by biting into an olive, wincing, and then tossing the olive BACK INTO THE BIN. I gasped a little as I saw this, as did the lady next to me in line. The Man, realizing what he had done, looked around to see if anyone was watching him and locked gazes with us, and then he shut the lid to the bin and hi-tailed it to the wine cooler.

The lady next to me looked at me and said, "We have to say something...I can't just... walk away in good conscience."

But before either of us made the move to get some one's attention, Deli Guy came storming out from behind the counter, grabbed the bin, and stormed back into the deli.

My guess is that it won't be long before the olives are behind the glass of the Deli Case - where they should be. And they should replace the Olive Bar with a nice Martini Bar. Talk about the ultimate shopping experience...

Got a call from a Customer this morning.

"I was pretty upset on Saturday night so I decided I should just call."

"Yes. I was offended I had to be outside - there is no need to be so busy like that."

This was the point in the conversation when I sort of rolled my eyes around searching for something to say. How do I respond to a person telling me we should be less busy? I mean, OK. Get a better server. Have more ice in the water. Don't run out of salmon before the dinner rush is over. But less busy?

"I am sorry. I am trying to find the right words to say but I am kind of at a loss. I regret that you had to stand outside. But I am grateful that we have that kind of business."

"Well no, not me. People."

Ohh, people. As opposed to Whiny Nincompoops, you mean?

I didn't say that in the phone. I wanted to. But I didn't. At least I don't think I did. The rest of the conversation was kind of a blur.

We don't do Valentine's Day. Oh we acknowledge it. I got a beautiful card this morning. But we don't make dinner reservations so we can sit across the table from one another and stare longingly into one another eyes. And its not that we don't like romance, or that we don't think it matters in a marriage. But I will be honest, I don't need romantic dinners and roses to be brought into a state of love euphoria. You want to rock my world? Take the garbage out. You want to rock The Husband's World? Let him have the big TV to watch Battlestar Gallactica. We're simple folk.

And this year - we are sick folk.

Its like clockwork for me - I get through the rigors of the Great Holiday Catering Rush only to come down off the high in January and get slapped silly in February with some sort of sinus/lung inflammation that causes me to pray for death at the hands of expired yogurt. Such trouble found me last week, and I have had more mucous produced in my sinus and lung cavities than any single person should be allowed.

Ok is it just me or are you all grossed out by the word 'mucous'.

Anyway.

Tonight we stayed home. I had leftover salmon, and used it to make a little pasta dish for The Husband. I had green tea and chicken soup. And then we sat around coughing, which then turned into a contest to see who could cough the hardest without either A) gagging or B) having a ... tinkle accident.

I lost both.

But I do have the love of a fabulous Sci-Fi Geek.

We had a little round table discussion at The Restaurant the other night about favorite sandwiches. I mentioned the Peanut Butter & Pickle I am so fond of - to which everyone turned up their noses - and many others were rattled off. Pastrami on rye, rare roast beef and horseradish, tomato and arugula - and then a few gave big props to the Reuben.

The next day we served it as a special on the lunch menu (since everyone vetoed my peanut butter pickle... bastards). People loved it, and we sold a ton.

And then one of the wait staff came into the kitchen and asked if we would be willing to make some changes to the special. A customer at Table 5 said they just "Loved Reubens!", but wanted to "tweak it a little..."

They wanted it with turkey instead of corned beef, on sourdough instead of rye, skip the thousand island dressing, and add cheddar instead of Swiss.

Seriously - I don't wanna play anymore.

The first time I went skiing I was 12 years old. I was eager to learn, ready to face those hills head on and determined not to be afraid of the ski lift.

Everyone told me about balancing my body weight, bending slightly at the knees and gradually grabbing the rope tow. What they didn't tell me was how to walk in the damn boots.

Before I had even placed a boot in my bindings I fell. Correct that, I stood up after putting my boots on and I fell. It was like walking in giant cement blocks. Very - unbalanced - cement blocks.

Then I got snow stuck in the bottom of my boots and could not make them snap in my bindings. So while trying to dig the snow out I fell. Got my skis on - fell. Got my skis back on, realized I was facing the wrong way, tried to do that fancy flip, swing, step move I was shown - fell.

By this time I could tell my ski instructor was wondering what in the Hell he did to deserve me. Whatever it was it must have been bad. Because two entire hours later when I finally managed to grab the rope tow without falling face first in the snow (that hurts),and made my way to the top of the hill. I readied myself to finally make the big move - and I fell. On him. I think he cried, or wanted to, and I am not so convinced he didn't turn in his credentials and take up fishing, instead.

My youthful exuberance made me too ignorant to understand the equation that Me standing on two smooth sticks + slippery conditions = mass casualties. (Let's be honest, I've had a lot of youthful - and adult - athletic mishaps.

Because of that experience - and the many that followed - I have totally made peace with the fact that I am not so much a "skier" as I am a "Lodger". A Lodger being the person who likes to get all dressed up in snow clothes, toss a few snowballs and find a comfy place in the lodge to sit by the fire, drink spicy drinks and watch all the other 12-year olds come flailing down the hill.

We are blessed in Washington to live in an area where no matter what you do - be it skiing badly, or tipping a canoe (oh, yes. I've tried that, too. God Bless the Coast Guard.) there are so many places around here to get your groove on. One such place is Mt. Baker . A gorgeous location situated 2 1/2 hours Northeast of Seattle. Skiing is great, but the lodge is gorgeous.

But what I enjoy most about Mt. Baker is the trip up there, or rather what is on the way. And that would be North Fork Brewery. The beer - fabulous. The food - fabulous. The service - fabulous. Today I enjoyed the White Pizza - garlic creme sauce, chicken, mushrooms, fresh basil, mozzarella - simple and divine. The crust is thin and crisp, but chewy at the same time. With that I had a glass of their Strong Scotch Ale. (Rich, dark - and delicious.) The Special of The Day was beer bratz with onions and peppers and freshly made sauerkraut from a farmer in The Skagit Valley. Everything on site is homemade, fresh, and real.

Best part is - no boots, no skis, no body damage, no crying instructor. Just damn good food.