Let's do the math.
Started at Red Lobster after returning from college.
Worked at Steak and Ale for almost a year.
Worked at W.D. Crowley's Scotch House for a year.
Worked at Johnny's Pizza for fourteen years.
Worked at LongHorn almost fourteen years.
Worked at Mama Lucia's for almost four years.
Worked at Ecco for almost three years.
I'm well into my thirty seventh year as a plate slinger and well over on my way to turning fifty seven.
Looking back at these photos, realize just how much I have moved up in my career as a plate slinger.
I probably started out making around 13k (good for a waitress in 1980) but went to well over 70k (pretty great in 2016) which included life, medical, vision and dental benefits.
Then my husband got a great new job. First he had to move to Lubbock, Texas for a year, all alone. Then he got promoted again and moved to Orlando. Me and the kids still stayed at home.
Then he got another promotion in Orlando and we decided it was time to reunite.
Great news for Tim, couldn't have been happier for him.
Bummer for me, had to give up the serving job of a lifetime and move away from everything and everyone I loved...to be a family again, with the one who had brung me to the dance.
At least the new job was in Orlando. I like warm weather!
Yep, I'm Granny...and then some.
I'm older than him, less tolerant than him and scrappy from the get go.
I drive him nuts and he drives me nuts.
Guess we're both nuts!
His favorite saying to me, when getting on his nerves:
My favorite saying back to him:
You know what?
It's the perfect combination.
Tit for tat.
He's Ying , I'm Yang.
He's usually wrong and I'm most always right...unless you ask him!
For all we've been through this past decade, am actually amazed we're still together... but are.
We've both given up things for each other. We've both supported each other even when we couldn't support our own family...
We've been there done that...time and time again.
Now suddenly everything is okay, financially.
Number one: I'm still wary.
Not that I'm a nay sayer...but more a "don't count the chickens before they hatch" kinda girl.
I was getting ready for work today (now yesterday). Ole Jed came into the bedroom and asked me how last night at work went? Well, I made the most money I ever have since moving here and was exhausted by the time I got home.
Exhausting is good when well compensated for it.
I slept in today, Ole Jed brought me coffee and oatmeal in bed a little before noon. I went in again and banged out another shift.
To be back on top is a wonderful feeling for (just) a plate slinger.
It's gonna be okay.
It's a different place, a different city and with different people.
It's taken a couple of months, for me and them.
Hands down...can say am not only on the team but one of the team.
It's taken more than a minute, it's taken almost six months...
But I'm back!
My money increases every single day, every single shift.
I got this now.
I'm a boss.
I rock.
I got this new job down now and work on getting better at it every day.
I'm a work in progress.
I am progress!
Ole Jed even mentioned today as I got ready for work..."You got in on the ground floor of a really great place, right before it takes off like a rocket."
Okay, I'll give him this...
He's right! (for once)
It'll be okay.
It is okay.
It's gonna be great!!
You know what?
I'm getting older, way over half way done with my life but determined to go out swinging, like "Casey at the Bat."
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville Nine that day;
the score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
a sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
they thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that –
they'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
and the former was a lulu and the latter was a fake,
so upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
for there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
and Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
and when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
there was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
it knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
for Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
there was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
no stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
and Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped--
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
and it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
he stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
he signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
but Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said: "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
but one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
and they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
he pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
and now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
but there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
the score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
a sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
they thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that –
they'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
and the former was a lulu and the latter was a fake,
so upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
for there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
and Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
and when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
there was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
it knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
for Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
there was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
no stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
and Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped--
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
and it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
he stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
he signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
but Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said: "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
but one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
and they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
he pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
and now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
but there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
I may not win this game of life but will be a winner for giving life my all.
I've learned to roll with punches, accept defeat but also rise above them and come back even stronger.
Quitters never win and winners never quit.
I've been lower than low and also been on top of the world.
Life doesn't come with any guarantees but two.
You are born and you will die.
Life simply and totally boils down to what you make of your time between those two given guarantees.
I've made mistakes but learned from them. I've also been blessed beyond belief.
Millions and millions aren't so lucky.
It reminds me of the old folk song...
"Both Sides Now."
I've been on both sides too, and feel grateful to be lucky enough to survive each one one of them.
With all the things which pulled us down for years, now realize were actually things that make us stronger.
Til next time...COTTON
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