So, I am curious. I also dropped three eggs this morning. So I am a bit - edgy. Is there anything more frustrating than cleaning up raw egg? I've wasted more salt that way...

Anyway.

Where do most of your recipes come from? Yourself? Family? Magazines? Books? Websites? Can you put that roughly in percentages for me?

There is a method to my madness, I promise.

A twelve-top came in last night and became disgruntled when told the wait would be an hour.

When I asked if they had a reservation their Fearless Leader responded, "A reservation? I didn't think you liked reservations."

Right.

And I regularly push away from the bar after just one lemon drop.

And the thing is, her statement wasn't one laced with humor, or a sincere innocent statement of ignorance. It was smug-laced with just a hint of daring. And I know this because The Fearless Leader rolled her eyes and looked back to one of her cronies and chuckled. And then the Cronie rolled her eyes and stared at me like one of the cheerleaders from Bring It On. (Yes. I watched it. Don't judge.) They were a group of 12 figuring we would be clammoring to put them to the head of the line in our quaint little establishment.

"Well someone is out there spreading bad rumors about this place. We do, in fact, like reservations. We adore them. As you can see, we're packed. But we would love to have you if you are willing to wait."

The Fearless Leader stared at me for a bit, I think trying to see if I was being a bitch, or if I was just an oblivious idiot who missed her smugness.

Her eyebrow dropped and she rolled her eyes again. "Fine. And No. We're in a hurry. We will just go somewhere else. And maybe we will try you again another night."

"Sounds great. Don't forget to make a reservation!" And then I smiled a great big Miss America Smile.

In hindsight the smile may have been a bit over the top. But I made a promise to smile more this year. Even if the smile is a mask for "I hope you're in a mood for a Big Mac. Because it is Friday night, sweetie. No one cares that 12 of you are in a hurry. Not even the girl at the drive-thru."

We took a nice little trek to my favorite little Mediterranean market to stock up on a few supplies. I needed olive oil, foul moudammas, spices, tahini, naan bread, etc. etc. and my weekly treat of baklava.

Also in the basket were two jars of grape leaves. Upon placing them in said basked The Husband asked, "Oh, picking those up for your mom?" But it wasn't so much a question as it was a statement laced with hope. I am no fool. The Mother is the Queen of Dolmas, a treat The Husband loves.

Just to play mind tricks I said, "No, these are for me..." while raising my eyebrow. And I could see that look in his eyes, the look that said, "She is going to make stuffed grape leaves, and they will not be as good as her mothers, but I will eat them because she is my wife... and... I love... er...fear her." But he smiled and said, "Oh great!"

Well played, The Husband.

Well played.

(For the record, the leaves are at The Mother's and will be stuffed for Sunday supper, The Husband will be very happy.)

The Bride and groom wanted the reception to be quaint, intimate and very family driven. They both come from big families, all of whom wanted to be a part of the night in some way. And they were a fabulous bunch.

Except for Aunt Norma.

We were warned about Aunt Norma. Seems she's got a bit of an attitude, and is tolerated because it is the right thing to do. But we were warned.

Someone forgot the family cake serving pieces. It happens. And it is no big deal. One of the aunts came into the kitchen to ask if they could borrow ours, and we of course said yes. She was in no rush, cake service was a long way away. The tote they were in got left in the van for some reason, but we were not worried about it at the time. We were getting ready for dinner service, and the cake was not even on our radar until we were asked.

We went back to our tasks and then Aunt Norma came into the kitchen with a loud sigh.

"Someone forgot the cake servers."

I looked over at her and smiled.

Impatiently she said, "Did you hear me?"

"I sure did", I said...still smiling.

"Well what do you plan to do about it?"

"Well, Mrs. Smith was just in here to ask if she could borrow our cake servers, but they are not needed for a long while. So right now I plan to get this dinner served so everyone can eat, and then we will take care of the cake servers when it is time to serve the cake."

She folded her arms and raised her eyebrow. I raised mine back.

"Well I need the cake servers."

"Right. And I need to serve dinner. So I will gladly take care of that for you right after we are done plating." I was cheerful, I promise. Even tilted my head when I smiled.

She sighed again. And then began tapping her foot. And we started plating the food. And she continuted to tap her foot, standing right in the doorway, all the while staring at me. Tap.. tap... tap... tap... tap...

The servers had to walk around her, and Aunt Norma continuted to tap her foot for a good 10 minutes before another Aunt came in to get her. "Norma, come back to the table and let these people do their work."

"You're not even serving cake. Go sit down."

And by God Norma stood and tapped a few more rounds, until she finally relented and left the kitchen.

The other Aunt looked over to us and said, "I am so sorry about her. She's ... well... a pain in the ass."

"Don't give it another thought", I said. "Aunt Norma is just another day in the kitchen for us."

"God Bless You", she said.

God Bless Us, indeed.

Some people are just determined to be... odd.

A man and woman came in yesterday for lunch, he wanted a Cobb salad. But he did not want chicken, bacon, avocado, or blue cheese. Which basically leaves egg and lettuce. To be helpful, his server suggested a less expensive alternative of a plain salad with egg. That made him mad. She apologized. He demanded she bring him the Cobb Salad.

The woman sitting across from him asked if we used clam juice in our clam chowder, and could she get a bowl without clams. Apparently she's allergic to shellfish.

I am going to start a fund and pay people like this not to eat here.

We never did make it to the Bowl-A-Rama, a fact that might depress me for quite some time. We did, however, have a wonderful time people watching at WalMart. I saw a tussel over Easter Baskets that will give me Giggle Moments for a very long time.

The Husband has made peace with the fact that any dreams he may have had of driving cross country will never happen unless it takes place in a large motor coach where I can drink martinis and pretend I am in a fancy hotel. The incessant whining as we crossed into Oregon was enough to make him want to stop the car and drop me on a barge in the Columbia River. It is a trait I am not proud of - my inability to relax on a long drive - but there just doesn't seem to be enough beef jerky and dirty joke books at Truck Stops to keep me placated. And lets not even talk about the bathrooms.

We did have a wonderful time, though. Re-connecting with people was a good way for me to get my mind of insane schedules and people's eating habits. Though I have to admit there was a close call for me in the kitchen one night when visiting another friend's house for dinner, and I watched as they boiled the taco hamburger in it's own fat. I sensed something was about to go awry as I saw the hostess cram a couple pounds of hamburger in a sauce pan.

But redemption the next night came in the form of the most amazing gyros and spanikopita, nothing says happy moments for me quite like a good chunk of feta.

I did make my way through the books, though I haven't had the opportunity to cook anything. I was told to relax, and leave the work to others. Which was a really incredible way to spend my time. Though I admit the greasy meat boil was a little less relaxing than I had hoped.

But the trip was fabulous, even if I did have a meltdown on Deadman's Pass.

One of the many blessings about this whole blogging thing - besides being able to share my Ugly Vulgarity with the masses - is that I have started getting free stuff in the mail. Last year I got a cool tea pot, and food scale, and a few other fabulous and fun things. And I am now the recipient of books. Cook books, in fact. And anyone who knows me knows I read cook books like most people read novels. If the covers of Harlequin Romances had citrus fruits draped in frilly shirts I would totally buy them in hopes that somewhere between all the rolling around in fields of lavendar with the long-haired man from the horse stables there would be a recipe for marmalade.

I have a stack of books, in fact, I have been meaning to get through and give a proper review on this site. And now I have the time to do so.

Through some life events of late, the message seems to be loud and clear that life is short, and no one will applaud at my funeral when they say, "... she worked so much that I never saw her, and we never kept in touch. But she was my best friend ever." Life is short, and the value within is not created through serving crab cakes to ungrateful people who wanted chicken sate', nor will it be found listening to Shouting Man come through the front door of The Restaurant.

So at the last minute I was able to clear my schedule for a few days and I am taking... God help me... a road trip. I do not like road trips. I like to travel. I like to see things. But sitting in a car for hours upon end makes me whiny, crampy and very immature and annoying.

You can imagine how excited The Husband is.

But this time I have reading material - lots of it. And along with my pillow, blanket, beef jerky and other bad-for-me snacks, I will be bringing my latest surprise in the mail.

There is Tea Party by Tracy Stern:

Small Bites Big Nights by Govind Armstrong:

Sara Foster's Casual Cooking:

And Everyday Food - Great Fast Food:

I was asked to read the books, cook a few recipes and give my thoughts. And I will be able to make this happen, as we are visiting family in a town where Saturday nights at the Bowl-a-rama is the closest thing to a black tie affair. If you happen to live in a small town and have a Bowl-A-Rama and see a person sitting at the bar eating party mix and drinking a beer with one of these books in her hand, it's me. Stop by and say hello. I am not so much a bowler as I am dangerous with a heavy ball. So, often I am asked to get drinks.

That I am good at.

Back on Sunday. Until them comments are off. Unless you all want links to ads for Viagra, and live web-cams from the men's locker room at the senior center in Saskatoon.

Sometimes when dining out - which, with our schedules happens about once every other full moon (kind of like my blogging of late) - I get to witness customer behavior that makes me giggle a little. Not because I like to encourage crappy behavior. But because I feel vindicated - like I want to stand up and shout, "See! I don't make it up!!!"

We had just been seated at our table when a couple was seated at the table across the way. I saw them have...'words'... the kind of words couples have in public that include clenched jaws and low talking. And then The Man got up and walked toward the restroom. The Woman looked around - I dodged behind my menu - and then proceeded to take a McDonald's bag out of her jacket. She hunched over as to try and cover it, but anyone close could see her proceed to slap back an entire Big Mac and fries. The Man came back mid-burger, and he looked around and leaned in close to have more 'words'.

When their waiter approached the table to take their order I heard the woman say, "I would just like a dinner salad, please. And you can bring it at the same time as his entree." And when their waiter walked away she giggled, while The Man shook his head.

She waived off dessert when asked, he had the creme brule'.

10 to 1 she had a Hot Apple McPie waiting in the car...