Until Next Time

When my mother and I started writing the original blog nearly five years ago, we had no idea what it would become. I’m sure we still don’t, but we have high expectations that it will be discovered by a descendant of Oprah, long after we are dead and made into a holographic movie—because it’s the future. Our separate blogs often overlap on subject, but have their own theme and passion. She writes about travel, life, and on occasion, prison, recovery, and family. I try to stick with recovery but often life is too brilliant to let it be unwritten.

My life now is as I’ve always hoped it would be: full of love and laughter. It’s not perfect. I still make mistakes; I still fail. But I always keep trying to be better. I persist on this life that I want to keep. I have everything I need, a lot of what I want, and I’m learning. I received a scholarship in fatherhood education, although I might hint that it has cost a lot. I’m still very new at trying to be a role-model for the girls for whom I have purchased a minivan and a home, and I feel as if I didn’t receive the owner’s manual to which I could refer when I am alone. But, again, I keep trying. I keep building relationships with these little people that look up to me for guidance, patience, and apple juice. We are all learning together, and we have ups and downs, but overall, we have a good thing going. I am a Girl Scout dad.

My last post reflected on my engagement to the mother of the two girls we guide through life. We’ve also had our ups and downs, but I stayed with her because I knew from the moment I saw her that it was her that would change my life again. If she hadn’t been sitting in that exact chair, in that precise moment, my life could be different now. But this is where we are, and this is what we are building together. We don’t just own a house together, we are evolving a home. I love all of them, and I want to make this last. So…

I’m taking some time away from writing publicly to spend more time creating this love that I crave now. I’ve taken breaks before, but never for the right reasons, this time I’m not doing it for myself. I will continue to write. I plan on spending my writing time developing a unique, funny, and realistic spin on my wedding vows. I want to create something she will never forget, and something I can actually adhere to, because I can’t have and hold her when I’m at work, and definitely when I’m driving. For better, for worse, in sickness and in health seems so vague. What about herpes? What if I get a superpower from a leech, and I become a new hero called Man-Leech? I would have to commit to that probably as crime dictates.

I want to write something sincere and heartfelt, and I need to take some time with this or I’ll just write stupid jokes like I did in the previous paragraphs. I don’t want it to be cheesy.

 

So, off I go. I’ll be back, and I’ll update you on my life as it evolves, and I’ll probably change the theme and purpose of the blog at some point before I go live again.

Enjoy the summer if it ever arrives.

So long.

Yes!

I fumbled around in my closet and found a pair of black dress pants I had hoped were where I had left them and took them to my dungeon-like basement to take a shower and get ready. When I was done cleaning myself, I put on my white undershirt, underpants, and then became wedged in what turned out to be a pair of Amanda’s work trousers which resembled mine in my haste. Shit. I scrambled to find mine which ended up being in the dryer, and I continued the process of dressing up, doing my hair up, and triple-checking my list which contained only two things: the ring, and the camera.

I had been planning this moment for two years. You see, exactly two years ago I walked into the Lafayette Club for the first time, and that was when I first saw her. I knew nothing of her at the time but something whispered into my conscience, “There she is.” Since then, I’ve sacrificed a lot and gained everything. I’ve actually been planning this proposal for about a month, and it involved a lot of people and a lot of secrets, and it was completely flawed, yet somehow unbelievably flawless.

Wearing my own pants, I checked my pockets for the ring, my wallet, and the ring. I had the ring. I put the camera around my neck and packed an overnight bag for the youngest child for whom I had arranged to be picked up from daycare by a neighbor. She was going to have a sleepover at her friend’s house, and the oldest was going to be picked up by her friend’s father, and she would be sleeping there. Kids: check. This took a lot of arranging, but it had all fallen into place.

I took one more look at the proposal I had written two weeks ago and flew out the door. Oh, I stopped by the flower shop on the way home from work and picked up an arrangement I had ordered on Tuesday. She said, “It’s very important that this stays upright so the water doesn’t fall out of the cups because you have a lot of driving to do.”

“Got it!” I replied.

About two hundred feet into my drive home I heard the flowers tip over in the back of the minivan and I had to pull over, get them out, and wedge them in front of the passenger seat. They stayed put for the duration.

I stopped at my neighbor’s house with the overnight bag and he gave me some words of encouragement and a hug and I was ready. I just had a 45-minute drive to think of all that could go wrong. What if she says no? What if I crash and die? What if this is when the aliens finally come take over and use our anuses for science? What if the flowers die?

I drove and drove, and I rehearsed dozens of times and it sounded perfect. I called Amanda’s coworker and friend who would be responsible for taking pictures and coercing her into coming out into the dining area and told her I was close by, and she met me at my van when I pulled in. We spoke briefly and she took the camera and I put the flowers into a vase with water I had set up. I took a breath. Well, I suppose I always take a breath. But this was a deep one, and I turned and walked in. I received a lot of stares and smiles because the bouquet I ordered was rather extravagant. I smiled politely and continued to breathe.

I made it inside. I passed the front desk and made it to the host stand. This is it. This is the moment. This is what you have wanted for two years. She wants this. You’ve got this.

Eyes closed, deep in meditation. Or possibly I blinked.

 

But Amanda was busy, and I slowly accumulated a gathering of her coworkers and her boss, who said he would bring her into the “livingroom” which is pretty much a gorgeous lobby with lavish woodwork and charming décor. I waited, and the camerawoman waited on the other side. In a minute, I could hear their voices drawing closer… And closer. And finally, she rounded the corner.

Finally, the woman I want to love forever saw me. “What are you doing here!?” She exclaimed.

You'll notice a theme: Amanda covers her face with the flowers in nearly every picture. there's no intent, it just happened.

And this is where I fell apart. I handed her the oversized bouquet of flowers and cited the first line of my rehearsed proposal. I touched her awkwardly a few times on the shoulder as I stumbled through the words that came so easily in the van, and I told her that I loved her, and that I wanted to lover her forever. I got down on one knee, and I said, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” She cried.

And then the aliens came.

Nothing was perfect, and yet it all was, much like life itself. I had also planned with her boss to taker her out afterwards and we went to Acme Comedy Company to see Louis C.K. and laughed for a couple hours. It was a fitting end to a wonderful day.

To show how funny life is, I will include some pictures of the actual proposal, then the one we had to do afterwards because the damn flowers got in the way of everything. Remember, if you want to make God laugh, make plans. I think I could hear him chuckling a few times yesterday.

 

 

 

 

Thank you to Vanna, Toni and Jake, Emily and Craig, Sandy, Greg, Mom, and everybody who helped me keep this a secret for so long. I couldn't have done this without you all. I almost didn't do it with you all, but in the end, all that matters is that we are officially engaged.

 

Another landmark move, another step toward the life I have worked to hard to achieve. None of this would have been possible five years ago. I wasn't a person worthy of her hand. Today I am proud, today I am happy. Now I can hold her hand forever.

 

 



I'm Not Funny



I am just over a month into my new position of Sous Chef at my place of employment. There have been a number of challenges, and a number of obstacles. Those may seem like synonyms, but they are different and each have unique ways of being solved. This is the highest I’ve ever climbed in the ranks of anything, and I think I am doing well for how far in I am, and how much time I’ve actually been able to commit to my new responsibilities. For this post, I will focus on one challenge: me.

It’s been two weeks since my replacement started on the line, and after a week of training, I have been able to spend a majority of my time away from the line, developing new menu items, fabricating meats, preparing ingredients, and learning how to manage people “these days.”

Kitchens have evolved incredibly since my first job 25 years ago. I vividly recall being scolded in front of coworkers (I specifically remember being chastised in presence of the attractive wait staff) for making simple mistakes like putting a pickle on the wrong side of the plate or accidentally missing a bright-blue bandage on a plate and sending it out. The latter is a true story, and it made it past the window, past the eyes of the server, and all the way to the customer who saw the bloody wrap and immediately left the premises after telling the owner. I was probably deserving of the reprimand and more for that one, but I’ve been yelled at for very minor occurrences which were all part of the learning curve at my young age. As I progressed with my skills over the years, I received fewer lectures, and as even more time passed, yelling became sit-downs with owners and management where problems were addressed and solutions were created, all with my input.

These days, people still show anger, confusion, and frustration in kitchens, but in my professional business, we find ways to work it out, or vent behind the scenes. I have been at my current job for nearly two years, and I have had to be called up to one office or another several times. I normally start off the conversation by stating that I’ve been getting called to the office for about 35 years, and usually my mother is present, and we all have a laugh because I am quite funny. But then my supervisor points out some defect of character that I haven’t addressed yet—or something I will probably get in trouble for, for the rest of my life—and I address the problem and move on. This is how we resolve minor issues in 2019. Nobody yells, nobody cries, everybody keeps calm. We speak respectfully and concisely.

As far as me as a manager, I’m learning to communicate professionally and—this is the tough one—without constant sarcasm. It was pointed out to me recently that not everybody perceives my comments as funny and ironic, but instead could be received as literal and haranguing. I don’t break character when I’m trying to be funny, and sometimes I suppose it’s possible that my lack of a smirk when addressing an actual problem with a joke, could actually be hurtful, and could cause people to not like working with me.

It takes everything I have not to write sardonically in this post, and be funny because it is in my nature, but  I have to assume that people I work with may read this, and I have to be selective with my battles and change my banter to each situation or person, and maybe be more selective with whom I choose to share my exceptional set of interpretations on daily life and foodservice.

I want to be funny, but not at the expense of others. I am funny, but not to everybody. And if I want to keep this great—potentially career—job I have, I can make some sacrifices, (Insert funny animal sacrifice joke), and act in a manner according to my job description. I can make plenty of jokes when I get home, because the woman and girls I live with adore me and my hipster-dad funny-guy character. (Insert blank stare picture of Amanda.)

My life has changed over and over, but one thing has remained consistent: my sense of humor as deflection. Maybe it’s time for me to grow up.

 (Insert long pause.)

But, also maybe.