Hope It's Not An Omen

Left for work on New Year's Day, driving in a damp, windy drizzle. Definitely not the Sunshine State. By the time I got off work shortly before dark the temp had dropped another eight degrees and the winds had picked up like crazy. We still haven't had to turn the heat on in our house but suppose we will in a couple of days Forecasted lows on Thursday and Friday is thirty two with a low of thirty five on Saturday. The weather dude said this was the coldest temps in eight years for Orlando...and for once I believe a weather dude.

                                                (my favorite weather dude picture, ever)


It's quite easy to become accustomed to and spoiled by living in central Florida. Case in point...

This was taken the week before Christmas last year after a day at Cocoa Beach. We both got burned.



Even our three dogs have gotten spoiled by living here. They still don't mind the hot days of summer, we had hotter back in Georgia, but let the temps fall below sixty and they now all act like we're asking them go outside and poop in Antartica...and they wear fur coats!

They have predicted some parts north of Orlando may see snowflakes this next day or two. I can only imagine how Floridians would react given how Georgians react to the same prediction. Better go buy that milk and bread today!

I'm just ticked I have to wear long pants and need a sweater when I go outside...that's how spoiled I have gotten. I was hoping more for a Winter like last year, less than seven days in mid January and Spring beginning mid February.

That's what I signed up for!

                                                            December days like this!



Then I saw the temps back in Georgia...during the middle of the afternoon on a sunny day.

Meanwhile, around the same time here in Orlando:

Yeah, guess I'll quit complaining now...

'Feels like 23 degrees' versus 'Feels like 50 degrees' is a definite win.


After last years' mild temps, boxed up and put all my winter clothes into the storage unit with the other three quarters of our belongings and furniture.

I have one pullover sweater which Massey went and retrieved for me from the storage unit before we headed back to Georgia for her college graduation in early December, when Mother Nature dumped almost ten inches of snow on the ground.


Here's the thing...


You need to constantly remind yourself that the proverbial Glass of Life is always halfway full, especially when complaining about a temporary bout of chilly weather.

Maybe the omen was that sometimes life may get a bit chilly but when you follow your dreams, the sun will come out again, and warmer days are right around the corner.

Hunkering down with a sweater and pair of jeans for now, but keeping those flip flops close to the front of my closet. Better days are always ahead if you are lucky enough and still be around to live them.

Take the good with the bad.

In my way of thinking, in this overly politically correct, nonsense of a world we live in, could fix every problem in the world with one simple solution.

Be a good person.



It doesn't matter if you are white or black, democrat or republican.

It doesn't matter if you are Christian or Muslim or an Atheist.

It doesn't matter if you are wealthy or poor.

It doesn't matter what your beliefs or opinions are...they are simply yours.


There are two choices in life for all of us.

You can be a good person or you can be a bad person. Case closed.

Pretty simple if you ask me.

It's the solution to all the worlds' problems, echoed in the sounds of silence.

Till next time,  COTTON

Thanks(for)giving

Last week I was leaving work after my shift when one of the servers told  me to wait, the closing server needed to talk to me. She went over and spoke with the closing server and came back over where I was clocking out and told me never mind...I could leave.

I kinda thought that was strange but let it go, and left. I thought about it on the drive home, wondering if maybe I hadn't done something they had asked me to do. I thought about it some more and decided I'd finished all my side work and cleaned my section.

Maybe it was a mix up...but made a mental note to ask that server what it was about next time I saw her.

A week went by before I worked with the server again and asked her what that had all been about?

Her answer:

"I can't tell you now."

That kinda made me nervous. I felt like they knew something about me that I didn't know and gave me a queasy feeling...like maybe I needed to start looking for another job.

Yeah, I'm a worrier.

Especially when it comes to my kids or my job.

Nothing else was said or happened so  decided I was once again simply worrying too much and let it pass.

Another week passed...and remained gainfully employed.

Just in case, I stepped up my game and tried even harder each and every shift...and I'm no slacker to begin with.

If you only knew how much I intensely hate starting over at a new job, you'd probably laugh at me.



I'd say I'm a pretty good wife. Maybe an eight out of ten.

 I'm not the best wife but have been completely and totally faithful to Tim for almost thirty years and in his defense, hasn't tried to kill me once. If you know me and know Tim...that's close to being an amazing feat in its self.

As a mother I'd say I was about a nine out of ten, through much trial and error. At least they are all doing pretty well as adults.


As a server would give myself a solid ten.

It's a profession which suits me to a Tee. I enjoy it, constantly try and grow as as a server, always striving to learn more and gain knowledge which helps not only my customers' experience but my paycheck as well.

It's a win-win job, if done right and feels very rewarding to be (for the most part) in control of what you make.


Anyway, back to my story...


So I go into work last night. I walked in the back of the kitchen and the locker area to store my trusty lunch box full of treats and goodies to share with everyone and a cook passed me, saying "Happy Birthday, Kelly!"

I didn't say anything, thought maybe I'd misunderstood him.

Another cook passed me as I walked out to the front of the restaurant and said the same thing.

What?!

I told him it wasn't my birthday...and that my birthday was in July.


Five minutes later the manager called all us servers to gather for the usual pre shift meeting.

As it started, the manager said another server had something to say first.

Another  server, who was hired right after me stepped forward and handed me a card with my name written on the front. She simply said "For all you do for us."

I opened it, pretty puzzled to begin with.

When I read it and saw the very generous gift card for Publix...I was stunned.

The cooks (who shouted out HBD) assumed they were giving me the gift card because it was my birthday.

The server who had asked me to stay around before leaving that night a couple of weeks ago thought they were giving it to me then.

Instead they continued to collect money from other employees for another week.

Trust me, I know how hard it is to get money out of other people when you're collecting for a cause.

Been there done that.

I couldn't believe it ... not only the servers, but food runners, bussers, hosts, bartenders, cooks and even utility workers had donated for this awesome gift for me!





You know, I've been a server a pretty long time.

    I've met and made a lot of good friends along the way. Bosses, customers and coworkers.


I moved to Orlando a little over a year ago, feeling like a frightened deer in headlights...for more months than I care to discuss.

Luckily I listened to my brother, who has lived here for quite a while. He gave me this advice:

                                             "Chroma is the place where you need to work."

It took me forever, but finally feel at home with my new job and think my new job feels at home with me.

I've come to love them, just like I loved my last restaurant family and the one before that, and the one before that.

What makes it even greater is they love me now too at Chroma.



It was a shocking wake up call and reminder to myself... it was one of those Oprah 'Aha' moments.



May sound crazy...but am anyway.

 What other woman in her late fifties wears a  dog's cone of shame and poses in their bed just to make herself laugh?

I had to beg Massey to take this picture of me. I thought it was hilarious...still do.

Her, not so much...but that's okay too. I'd probably be mortified as well to have me as a mother at the age of twenty two.


But here's the thing...

Life gives you one shot... no do overs. (unless you're Shirley MacLaine)


Make your shot count.

Do you want to put happiness out to the universe as your offering or unhappiness, envy and jealousy?

I'm a simple person with a simple plan in life.

Live by the Golden Rule and allow the Golden Rule to rule you.


The generous gift I received from  my coworkers surprised, shocked and humbled me.

I've always kinda been the 'restaurant mom' and enjoy the title very much. I do things for them because I want to, not because I have to. I always cook too much food anyway and they are always so excited when I bring in something to share.

The candy I bring in is nothing...what's two or three dollars every other day? It's sure not going to bankrupt me (been there done that) and know for a fact it's something they all look forward to.

If I had to stand hunched over in a hot, humid, wet, dish pit for eight plus hours and wash plates and silver which servers and bussers almost constantly sling at you, I'd want someone to bring me some candy every once in a while as well.

With all my many, many faults...still think I'm pretty much a decent person, striving to be a good person. on that scale would give myself about a seven out of ten.

On the scale of being a blessed person, I'd give myself a solid ten plus.

If you ever want to learn about how people truly are, try being in the service industry for almost forty years. I've met some doozies (customers and coworkers) over the years but more often than not have met some really wonderful people.

If I see a table that looks miserable from the time they walk to it and sit down, make it my own personal mission to make sure they all get up from that same table happy, and eager to return. It's actually a pretty satisfying feeling.

It's like I'm a psychologist without the degree...who also makes tips!

This Thanksgiving I have so very much to be grateful for, and my wonderful coworkers simply added to my ever growing list of blessings.

True fact.

Till next time, COTTON

Our White Red Headed Step Child

Our Charlie...the dog you love but hate. In this pic had gnawed a hole in the fence large enough to poke his fat head through to see what he could of the front yard. On the rare times he managed to escape, just sauntered from the back yard into the open garage door and plopped down by the kitchen door waiting to be let back inside. If the garage door happened to be shut, had to huff and puff it all the way to the front and stare into the window which went all the way to the floor beside our front door, once again waiting to let back inside.

Here's a video of Charlie and Ham jumping for a low branch in our old back yard about seven years ago. Notice how graceful Ham is and how high he could jump when his peepers still worked. Notice also, how Charlie seems like he's got ten pounds of bricks in his pockets (if he had any).

We inherited Charlie from our oldest son, TJ who moved back home with Charlie in tow, then moved back out asking us to keep him for a couple of weeks until he could come back for him.

That was almost ten years years ago.

SMH...

You'd think a puppy who cost three thousand dollars would grow up to be a stellar and super smart dog.

Didn't happen.

Not even close.

When he wants in or out of the house and doesn't immediately get his way, has the most annoying whine which actually sounds like a little kid.

I remember shortly after aquiring Charlie,  was in the driveway of our house back in Georgia with my next door husband's son who was trying to fix my Johnny Dear for me. I called Ron my next door husband instead of next door neighbor because was constantly helping me fix things. Lucky for me Ron also had a son who quickly became my "next door son" when his dad was at work.

Kevin (his son) was on his back in my driveway, working on the mower blade when Charlie started whining from our back yard with his fat head poking through the hole he'd chewed in between the gates of the privacy fence.

I'll never forget... Kevin stopped what he was doing and said "Ms. Kelly, do you hear that little kid crying?"

I shook my head  (do that a lot with Charlie) and said "That's TJ's bulldog, just ignore him...we try  to."

My brother in law came over a couple of summers later after Charlie continued to gnaw away the fence gate, put up a new gate and made a peep hole for the dogs as a birthday present for me (Charlie).

Best present ever!

We all love Charlie, just don't like him very much.

He makes it hard to like him.

He's brat and  extremely self centered.

Once Ham went totally blind and after getting Ziggy to replace our female boxer, Rosie (our first) who had to be put down with horrible hip problems during the time were broke as jokes. The three males, with six balls between them started to get into fights with each other.

It was always terrifying and never ended up pretty.

Charlie quickly became to be known as "Scar Face" and with good reason.

Bull dogs don't give up, even when obviously fighting a losing battle.

Once I got my great airport job and had the bills all caught up, took the boys...one at a time to the local cheap "Vet in a Van" who came to our city once a week at ridiculously low rates.

I took Ziggy the first week. He bounced out of the car and was ready to go into that van and find out where all that barking was coming from.

I picked him up an hour later.

He walked out on the leash with the doc leading him from the van and looked woozy at best. I kept him in my bedroom for a couple of days away from the other two and my ole Zig bounced right back.

The next week I took Ole Chas for his (de)Nut job.

Oh, Charlie was all about heading up those two steps into the van to show those dogs barking from inside how tough he was! He was pulling on the leash the entire way.

It was one of the funniest experiences of my life...and had quite a few with the Ole Boy.

They called (less than an hour later) and said Charlie was ready for pick up...minus his nuts. I drove back over in the borrowed truck from my brother in law. I didn't even own a vehicle at the time.

I got an old comforter and spread it over the front seat of the truck first, just in case he got sick on the ride home from the anesthesia.

I waited in the parking lot for over ten minutes, kinda starting to get worried about Charlie and hoping they would soon lead Charlie out of the mobile clinic van on his leash. After a few more minutes passed, the vet came huffing and puffing out the mobile clinic with Charlie, belly up in his arms. The Lug weighed at least seventy five pounds.

The vet was covered with Charlies's white hair and almost stumbled over to the truck to deposit him on to the front seat of the truck.

The first thing I noticed... is Charlie sure didn't come out of the mobile clinic looking like the bad ass he went barking into it as, acting like he was gonna kick some butt.

His eyes were rolling in two different directions, his tongue which is at least eight inches long was dry and glued to his jowls like a piece of dried leather.

It was totally a "What the heck just happened?" look.. and then some.

The vet, sweating like me with a hot flash, rolled him into the front seat of the truck and we were on our way!

I was pleasantly surprised he didn't throw up on the ride home.

Once at our house, had to go get Zach from inside to come pick him up off the front seat of the truck.

He picked Charlie up and carried him, much like the vet...huffing and puffing up to the third floor of our house and put him in our bedroom to convalesce.

I stayed behind in the driveway to drag the comforter out of the truck for washing.

There, right behind where Charlie had been on the seat, was a rock hard (thank goodness hard) big ole turd.

I guess the whole thing scared the crap out of him!

Charlie stayed underneath our bed for two days without moving.

Day three, he finally got up and moseyed down two flights of steps and went outside to pee, like a girl dog...couldn't even manage to lift his leg.

Ziggy bounced back in two days, Charlie was traumatized for a week.

I decided not to have Ham neutered...especially at a low cost Vet in a Van.

Totally blind, would flip out being lead into a strange place with cats and dogs more than loudly meowing and howling.

Ham can keep his two buddies, they're about all he has left.

Ham is over eleven which and way past the life expectancy of a boxer.

He got to peek out of the hole Charlie gnawed when he could see and we tried to get his eyes fixed quite a while back with help from many through a foundation.

The foundation considered it comestic since he was healthy otherwise.

They even had a picture of Ham's dad in the office. Ham's father also suffered from juvenile cataracts.

So we've not only lugged our selves through a decade of financial debacle but three pups as well.

Not one of them has ever complained...except maybe Charlie, but nobody listens to Charlie if they can help it.

Yes, Charlie needs whooping but will never get it from us. Ham and Ziggy have given him more than his due.

For Pete's sake... am just starting to get my own act together after yet another  later than sooner life altering change.

But you know what?

Ham's still here alive, and so am I.

Charlie's still around, wearing us all out with his bull dog ways but still love the fat ass.

Ziggy is Ziggy, living up to his name sake (Marley) and proudly prancing to the beat of a different drum.

Dogs are the most wonderful comforting companions a person could ever hope to have...and once again am blessed.

Not one of my dogs have ever complained and love me like nobody's bidness.

Three great kids, three great dogs, a husband who went the distance for us to remain together. Two incredible Sibs and so many friends that would take a calculator to count them all.

When life seems to suck the air out of you...

Blow harder.

Always, always know...if you give life your absolute best, never give up and try your hardest...

It will happen.

Maybe not as soon as you want, but quitters never win.

More importantly, if you want to be a winner... never quit.

Sometimes it takes a universe.

Actually... it always does.

Life is a game plan.

Call me crazy (you're kinda right)  just hope am never called a quitter.

Til next time...COTTON