I should have known it was all coming considering the other night when I got home and rolled out of The Car I was toe to toe with a possom. I was so tired that I shook my head a bit to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing - and sure enough. I gasped and reached for my cell phone to call - who - I am not sure. Who does one call when faced with such a vile creature? Possom Patrol? Or would it be opossum patrol?

He just stood there - staring at me. And I stood there freaking out in a way that grown women should not do. I decided the only way to handle it all was to run screaming to the door. The Husband came flailing out thinking I was in true danger, and when I pointed and squealed like a child and flailed my arms about he sighed and led me in the door.

My life in this last week has been like a bad country song. My computer died. The Car died. The freezer died. The Cat died...wait, I don't have a cat. But I've got one who is stalking me. Yeah, and then there's that whole possom thing. Oh, yeah. And The Grease Trap backed up. That's a joy I just can't be happy enough about...

At any rate, things seem to be working again - car included. Thank Goodness. Because Lenny - that's his name - is an old friend. An old friend who has been through a lot with me. An old friend that, on a very warm day, still smells faintly of parmesan.

Good times.

While taking my final walk-thru The Restaurant last night something caught my eye in one of the planters.

It turned out to be crust from the marbled rye we served at lunch time.

My best guess is it could have been a child. Or it could have been a teenager, or it could have been the same guy who lodged a toothpick into the cieling of the men's bathroom.

Either way, I hate people.

It's been a week.

Oh Hell, when isn't it a week. But it has been... A. Week.

Small example - I just got off the phone with a woman who is angry that I turned her down to Trick her daughter's wedding. Which is happening in 3 weeks. I was apologetic, but I declined. I should have just left well enough alone but she was angry that I turned her down.

So when I asked her why she waited until 3 weeks before such an important event to book a caterer she got pissy with me and told me that she did not need a lecture, and asked, "What is the big deal? What, like you are booked?"

Yeah, that's it, win me over with your charm.

We are, in fact, booked. And we have, in fact, been booked for 8 months. Because that is what people do for weddings. They plan ahead. Unless it is incredibly short notice for reasons too numerous to count. But even then people don't get pissy. They understand. And for those people I would find a way to help them out.

But this one was insistent on being angry with me. "Just so you know, you weren't even first on my list! You are the 4th on my list. So don't think you are special!!"

"So I assume the first 3 turned you down then?"

*click*

Yeah. Burn on me.

At any rate, I've spent the better part of my evening trying to organize my pantry, which at this stage of the game is nothing but a glaring reminder of what a loser I am. Beyond the staples of things like oils and grains and vinegars and pastas and chutneys and a ridiculous amount of fancy mustards, my pantry is loaded with special things for the holidays. Things to have on hand in case of an impromptu cocktail party, or in case old friends stop by. I figure between what I have in my pantry and my freezer I could whip up something fabulous. Something I just 'happened to have on hand'. "Why yes, I do always have fresh lemon curd ready to go." And at the end of the night I will plop down on the couch in my pretty apron, cocktail in hand, and congratulate myself on being such a fabulous hostess.

What an idiot.

I do this every November aroung Thanksgiving - I shop like the next 6 weeks will be filled with fabulous moments in my home. And every January I am reminded how ridiculous I am to think that I am actually going to be home giving fabulous parties during the holidays. Oh, I am giving parties all right. But they are hardly impromptu, and they usually involve me carving on some sort of well-roasted carcas. And they always end with me schlepping myself home exhausted and finding remnants of some sort of sauce in my hair.

It's a good thing I have a large array of cheese in my fridge to go with all this whine... apricot laced stilton, anyone?

So tomorrow night will not be the average Thursday Night in the Food Whore's House. The Husband will be eating every single item I can prepare with all this - stuff. I hope he's hungry.

And I hope I have enough vodka.

I think its pretty clear that I suck the big egg when it comes to sharing recipes, taking pictures of said recipes, walking upright on icy roads, and being pleasant before 5:00 a.m.

The only thing from that list really connected to this blog is the whole recipe/picture thing, but I felt compelled to share the others in an effort to apologize to The Husband for this morning's offensive hand signals when he tried to be cute and cheerful at 4:45 a.m. But seriously, no matter how much of an Irish spin you put on it, its just not a beautiful day in the morn...

So anyway, I am in constant admiration for those who do share recipes and take beautiful pictures and put them on their blogs. It gives me something to drool over at 2:00 a.m. when I can't sleep, or at 5:30 a.m. when said cheerful husband walks out the door.

Here's a few I've been checking out and enjoying.

My French Kitchen

La Table de Nana

Diva Cucina

It was a quick interview. She had come in The Restaurant twice looking for work, and she happened to catch me on her third try. I had her application and was going to put her off but I had a few minutes so I invited her to sit down.

We chatted about the basics; her experience, etc. And the entire time we were speaking she twisted a lock of hair hanging by her collar bone. A nervous habit, I assumed.

I said to her, "There is no need to be nervous. This is very informal."

"Oh, I know. I am twisting my hair. I am sorry. I get nervous around people, and I do this. But this is a much better option than what got me fired from my last job as a server."

I was afraid to ask.

But I did.

"You were fired, why?"

"Well, I would get really nervous when I was serving people and I would chew my hair. So this twisting replaces that, I totally don't chew my hair anymore. I promise."

*sigh*

*Insert appropriate Seinfeld Episode jokes and giggles here*

2009 is starting off with a bang.

We've got a guy - we will call him Table 7 Ted. And we will call him Table 7 Ted because he always insists on sitting at Table 7. Always. As in - if Table 7 is occupied, he will wait it out, or he will leave and come back.

And he only wants to be poured half a cup of coffee. If you even go so much as a drip over half a cup, he will make you bring him a new cup.

And he only wants his bread with his entree during dinner, and he only wants his clam chowder luke warm. So please put it in a bowl, walk away for a bit, and then bring it to his table.

I am sure you are all thinking, "Why do you deal with this guy?" And believe me when I say I ask myself this 400 times a day because the coffee and the chowder thing are just the tip of the iceberg. But in the last two months he has come in ever single day.

Yesterday was no exception. Except yesterday he must have grown tired of us opening a little later than normal due to the holiday because upon his arrival he bypassed everyone and sat at Table 7. He did not say hello, he did not wait to be seated, he just rushed right to his table. And the table had just been cleared of dirty dishes, but not wiped down and reset. So before he even sat down he snapped his fingers and said, "SOMEONE PLEASE COME AND CLEAN MY DOMAIN!".

Happy New Year, Ted.