Like a Bad Zit...I'm Back!

 Wow. For the past week I've had the crud Tim came home with last weekend and left with us. Massey was the first to fall and didn't get totally well until yesterday. I got sick on Monday and steady worse. I had Tuesday off and spent over twelve hours in bed. I sweated more than Donald Trump on Judgement Day.

I kept a small paper cup by my bed and spit out all the disgusting phlegm I coughed up, then flushed it down the toilet when I got up and tossed the cup in the trash bin outside. I really felt like calling out at work but has been busier than a bee hive so decided to just take cough meds, 500mg Ibuprofen, wash my hands every five minutes at work and stand far back from my tables. So far no one at work has come down with it (they tend to come down with fake illness) and just stayed in bed until the last possible moment before getting in a scalding shower pounding onto my teensy chest and jumping in the car just in time for work.

Then when I got off every night drove directly home and climbed under the covers for another sweat fest in my flannel sleeping pants and shirt. A couple of days I spent almost sixteen hours in bed. I barely ate but always had a banana, cup of yogurt, meds, a multi vitamin  before I left the house for work with a huge bottle of water.

I was beginning to think I needed to break down and go to the doc but Massey got better so who am I to let an almost twenty year old show me up?

On Tuesday of this past week, Massey went to Atlanta for the day with her bestie and text me to see if he could come home with her for dinner.

I said sure he could, but wasn't cooking dinner. The only thing cooking was my forehead. He declined the offer. (smart kid)

I got bills paid, muh hur did,  toted home about twenty more bags of top soil for the sink hole out back and went to buy dog food once and groceries but other than that was down to working and sleeping at best.

A couple of shifts  I felt so bad, could have curled up in a ball on the dirty floor of the dish pit area in the kitchen just to let the humid heat warm me up but somehow made it through...and usually with a smile,  albeit forced.

Woke up yesterday when Massey hollered up the stairs that it was almost one. I could tell I felt better when I got in the scalding shower, just not sure for how long. I doped up and went in, feeling great until about eight then popped two more 500mg of ibuprofen and made it through the shift.

I woke up today promptly at eight thirty and felt like a new woman. I took the dogs out, had some OJ and Nestle Quik and lolly gagged in the bed until noon. I went out back and cleaned weeds from around the A/C unit, replaced the filter in the unit in the attic and packed a hefty lunch for work. I even made a blueberry cobbler, taking half to work with me for my boss who helped me out at work the night before when we got slammed like a home run ball and made it to work thirty minutes early.

So I wasn't dying!

Tonight wasn't that busy but had exceptional tables, every single one. I connected, chatted and amused every one of them and rewarded most spectacularly. I even gave the shuttle bus driver (my favorite one) a ten dollar tip when she dropped me off at the parking deck. She tried to decline it but told her to shut up (with a smile).

There's no better way to end a day at the Crazy House (aka) the world's busiest airport than to walk out and see Ms. Thornton behind the wheel of the shuttle bus you step up on to. Sometimes (on good nights)  probably make her weekly salary in eight hours. She always asks about Massey if she isn't with me. Massey loves her too. And when my crappy ole Volvo broke down last winter in the parking deck after work when it was fourteen degrees with wind chill factor of ten below, let me on her bus to warm up and rode the loop from the deck to the terminal for over an hour never stopping to pick up anyone but letting me stay warm until one of the Lost Boys arrived to take me home. Whenever I have a good night at work and she's my driver...always tip her, always will.

When I first started at the airport a friend of mine (Kimberly) warned me off  saying it was an exhausting place to work which could suck the life out of me.

She was right but lucky for me have an out in six months. It also absolutely changed our world and all for the better. It's like the best of both worlds.

I have twenty four weeks left to rake in the most money I've ever made. Spring Break  for rich kids flying overseas to warmer destinations is in full swing, followed by the Masters in Augusta to vacation season for all in early June to the summer olympics being held in Brazil. I'll knock it out of the park and bring it all home for my family.


Then I'll exit,  grateful for the opportunity and things I've learned but our family will be whole again...and together.

The last six years have been six which taught me the most about life in my (well over) half a century on this planet.

You get what you give.
Never be ashamed to accept help unless undeservedly.
Always Pay It Forward.
A bad day only lasts twenty four hours.
Karma has an excellent memory.


And as my alter ego says...

I'm straight now, thanks to the curve from many!

Til next time...COTTON

So Sue Me, I'm Southern

I try really hard to reign in my heavy southern drawl when working. Yes, I sound like a hick and yes I'm always fixing something. I can be fixing to go to work or fixing to go home. I try really hard not to say y'all but slips out sometimes when busy or overwhelmed. Heck, if there's more than one person at a table they're y'all to me. I consider it multitasking speak.

I consider myself a speaking blend of Minnie Pearl

Feisty  Granny Clampett

with  the quick wit of Phyllis Diller thrown in for laughs.

Talk about a total package!

So a guy at my table tonight, an American seemed to get great pleasure out of making fun of my accent. When he asked for a pop instead of a soda  thought about popping him on the side of his face but didn't. I heard his wife berating him for making fun of my accent when I left the table  and was enough for me.

Go figure. If that's the worst thing a customer does to me, I'll take it!

The official countdown has begun, I'll be living in Orlando in six months or as I like to think; I have six months to get this house fixed up for the renters.

We did a lot of work on the front yard last summer and the bushes in front are all the same height now after whacking them off with my trusty chain saw.

All the rooms are freshly painted thanks to my terrific sister. The Lost Boys installed a new wood floor in my kitchen and my sister and a dear friend gave it a complete make over.

The back yard was next so like the idiot I am chose to tackle it in the middle of a rainy winter. Our three dogs made a mess out the yard surrounding the back porch, it was like a mud pit.

The fire pit I had cleaned out and relined with rocks last summer...

 now looked like this after three months of rain.

The above picture was taken after hauling and dumping almost a hundred pounds of drainage rock then hauling by hand over forty bags of top soil to fill in a sinkhole by the fire pit. It rained like crazy last night and held up well so think I did a pretty good job!

Of course Ziggy helped a lot...

Hands down the handsomest bad dog we ever had. In other words, "He's a pretty bad dog".

I hauled most of the rock and dirt in the back of my tiny car usually two or three trips each day, six bags at a time. Massey helped me out and carried five bags into the back gate for me while I went back for more. I had also picked up a huge bag of cedar shavings for their dog houses.

By the time I got back with another load, this is what was left of the bags of top soil and cedar shavings.

He was very proud of his work and looked ecstatic! I sat down the bag I had just carried back into the yard, turned around to go get another and he came bouncing over and began to nibble on his next snack. I sternly and seriously said "NO!" so instead he just hiked his leg up and took a leak on it.

What in the Sam Hill is so special about a stinking bag of dirt I'll never know but the boy simply couldn't get enough of it. I picked up scraps from the plastic bags for days, obviously he's picky about his plastic.

The picture below is totally our Ziggy.

So our back yard is looking great now too, put out two bags of grass seed and the mud sucked it up like a good cocktail. I'm going to have to get out the ole push mower soon , it's already about five inches high.

I'm also beginning to think about things I need to Pay forward before leaving the house and city we've been in for almost twenty years.

I think it's okay to write about this next part. My sister rarely reads my blog, I tell her everything anyway so doesn't have to. Her husband does read it though but know he'll keep my secret.

Her birthday is in thirty seven days (yes I'm counting) and wanted to do something special for her. I mailed her a card last year with a hundred dollar bill in it and she balked, tried to give it back and said it was too much.

Whatever!

I hands down have the best brother and sister a girl could ever dream of having and say with total conviction my family would not have survived the past (almost) decade without all they have done for us. If I had to put a dollar amount on it would embarrassingly almost ten grand with all said and done. I've paid back a hundred here, a hundred there but both always say "You don't owe me anything" and usually just end up having to leave it somewhere for them to discover after I've left.

Until this last year haven't really been in the position to do much more but try when I can.

The Pastry Chef where I now work came in one day with the most fabulous and colorful sling tote I've ever seen. It has smaller pockets all over it and zippered compartments on the the inside. I immediately thought how much my sister would like something like that. Easy to carry and holds tons of stuff. Chef said would be glad to pick me up one and was only fifteen bucks.

Perfect gift for my sister! She travels with a duffel bag or back pack every where she goes. She has to because her life is a multitasking amazement even to me. From her painting for a living to charity work for the battered women's shelter, free lunch program for needy children to all the committees she's either on or in charge of and even more numerous things she's in charge of at her church.

The woman is freakishly  the most charitable person I've ever known and's even more humble.

She's a hot looking Mother Teresa and lucky for me, my sister.

So the bag only cost fifteen bucks and looks kinda flimsy if new with nothing in it . I think she'll love it but made me feel kinda lame. Then I came up with the perfect solution.

I decided to Pay It Forward to her one shift at a time until her birthday on April 9th. Every night after getting home from work, take all the one dollar bills I have from extra tips on top of  added grats.  I crinkle them up like tissue paper and throw them in the bag.

I filled every little pocket first and will continue to fill the center until is a fluffy well puffed out bag of small Thanks.

I'm up to almost a hundred and still have thirty seven days left.

It's been thankfully amazingly busy at work and have worked fifty hours each of  the past two weeks. I got paid yesterday and was the largest check I've ever made.

It will be a drop in the bucket considering what I really  owe her but seems an excellent gift. Something she needs and something I owe her...represented in a small way but something  know can be useful in both aspects. She's not poor but not rich either. She's had  her own struggles these past few years but it never stopped her from helping with mine. I wouldn't have my incredible job except for the fact she and her husband loaned me vehicles for at least six months when I didn't even own a car.

I've gone from not even remotely barely making it (with much help from both sibs) to being incredibly blessed making more money than I've ever made in my life...largely thanks to them.

I tried to thank my brother too...but he declined my kiss of gratitude. Fortunately for me and my sister he is a bachelor with no kids (that he knows of) and makes a pretty decent living, leaving him to help not only us both but our kids as well so bought him this tee shirt for Christmas.

"PUNK" Professional Uncle No Kids.

I also bought him a glass storm door for the front door of his house so could keep it open and his two Dobermans be able to watch all the lizards scurry by. I hope it's strong glass.

Here's the real deal.

So many, many people were absolutely wonderful to my entire family and will always be eternally grateful to them while we were broke as jokes. They helped us tremendously but without my brother and sister would have most certainly lost our home.

But we didn't... and for some unknown reason they still seem to consider me an equal sibling. Actually the reason is known.

We had two parents who loved  unconditionally and taught us the true meaning of being a family.

You can tell from the above picture how happy they were... and continued to be, every day of their married life. (actually my Diddy looks ecstatic)

We never had a lot as kids but had everything. We had them.

And they had each other. It is a wonderful thing to come from a loving family.

We may have fallen but had family to help us get back up and keep on living.

There were days I wondered if we'd make it at all.

I should have known better having the above two for sibs.

I wouldn't change the last decade of my life if I could. It's made me a better person although wore slap out, but with The Good Lord willing and the creek don't rise am fixing to be an even better one!

  Til next time, COTTON

It's Official...I'm Freaking Out

It's one in the morning, got home from work around eleven. Loaded the dishwasher, dried some laundry and started some more. Zach wheeled the trash out for pick up and went to bed. Massey's in Orlando with Tim for the weekend. Sat looking through old pictures for over an hour and it hit me like a brick to the face.

I have some very major changes happening in the matter of a few short months.

I'm starting to get pretty freaked out.

Last night one of the Sous Chefs at work was talking with me and commented how sorry she was I was leaving. More than several co workers have made comments like "What are we going to do when you're gone?"

I'm starting to worry about what I'm going to do when I'm gone.

I've made so many new friends working at the airport. From shuttle bus drivers to the women who scrub restrooms.

From dishwashers who take their job as seriously as a surgeon's,

to random people I met each and every day, not only at work but on the way to and  from.

Working in the world's busiest airport has been hands down the most fascinating experience of my life.

I've waited on and met up close more famous people than thought I ever would but the people who weren't famous stand out most. I've crossed paths with people from literally all over the globe. I've waited on rich snobs who I won over with my PhD in BS and a few who had more money than sense.

It's been an eye opening lesson to me that each and every individual person on this planet is unique in their own (sometimes not, sometimes good) way. There may be one human race but like snowflakes are all different.

I always thought I was just a "Waitress" and probably pitied by many thinking what a shame it was.

I've always managed to do okay and my salary has increased with every job I've taken.  Before working at the airport I had only worked at three other places since 1981.

I remember after getting fired from LongHorn (still a sore spot) for a ridiculous reason after almost fourteen years, applied for Unemployment since my husband had also lost his job. It was the most humiliating experience of my life but had to do it. I put my  kids on Medicaid and also applied for (and received) food stamps. I've worked since I was fifteen years old and paid a lot of money into the system but was still embarrassing to have to do. You also had to attend seminars and workshops to keep the benefits...so I did.

I remember the first workshop I attended, the room was packed with unemployed peeps. They asked us to fill out a form with our five year job history. I listed one, the girl sitting next to me said she had held five different jobs in the past nine months. I think that's when I became the teacher's pet of the workshop. I don't like changing jobs, never have. I'm old and it takes me a while to find my groove and feel comfortable at a place. Plus I tend to be a perfectionist at my serving job. Am  nowhere near being one in any other facet of my life but can say with conviction  am a  pretty excellent employee.

I was terrified to take the airport job.  I had secured a job for almost five years with a family owned local restaurant and felt extremely comfortable working there. The problem was we needed to make more money and my husband was still struggling to find a decent job. My initial interview was overwhelmingly ultra professional. It was a five star restaurant serving seasonal Mediterranean cuisine and the menu changed every four months.

Yikes!

Lucky for me I had the "In".

A former coworker and dear friend highly recommended me for the job.  She told me she was averaging a thousand per week, after taxes. The job had full benefits after six months.

If  had been anyone other than her, wouldn't have believed it but I did. They offered me the job at my first interview. It took me well over six months before I felt in the very least comfortable about my new serving position. I was selling and serving things I'd never even tasted before much less sold. Octopus, beef tongue and hundred dollar bottles of wine to name a few.

I had a wonderful mentor who watched me a like a hawk, constantly corrected but urged me to learn and succeed every time I did something wrong. He was the manager who interviewed me and initially offered me the job. He doesn't work there anymore and still miss him every day. The above photo is the last shift I worked with him. He and his wife are from Bosnia and I thought it fitting to give him a turban with his nickname  blinged on it with a shirt boasting pork, which he didn't eat but could wear. He told me later wore both the turban and  shirt all the way home that day. From the corporate office to turn in his badge at the airport to the Marta train back to his car in north Atlanta, getting some mighty strange stares.

He is the main reason I have succeeded at Ecco and so very grateful he took such an intense interest in my training.

My general manager (above) has left since as well. He was as almost as laid back and quiet as my husband but a terrific boss as well. This pic is from his last day working with me. Since  was German, decided giving him the German officer's helmet was a nice sendoff present as well.

I used to call them "Good Cop/ Bad Cop". Damir was on me all the time to do it correctly and never hesitated  calling me out when doing something the wrong way while Bryan was just a nice guy to be around (with his knowing  Damir had the bad cop part under control) so everything ran smoothly...and it did.

Then the above Sous Chef left. Darwin was awesome and sure he still is in his new job. He trained me  while in the expo window my very first day. He later told me  "I knew you'd be a good worker when you asked me so many questions about everything that first day."

It quickly became a running joke between us. When employees would call out from work (which they do) or not do their job the right way, would simply look at each other ... shake our heads and mutter "Acting like Government workers".

So of course  ordered him the above shirt he's wearing for his last shift with me.

Starting at such a crucial financial point in our lives, have recorded every penny I've made. I went from making about 35K at LongHorn with no benefits (which was fine when Tim was making almost 80K with full benefits) to about 30K at my last job with Tim out of work and had no benefits to suddenly making over 70K with full benefits,  both kids still at home under my insurance as well and making tremendous strides in our economic recovery. I bought and paid for three vehicles last year, replaced the fencing in our huge back yard, replaced an $800 garage door and put in a new floor in our kitchen along with catching up each and every bill and are now current on every one of them.

Granted not every server there makes that much but a select few do, like me. In the two years I've been there have called out only twice and was sick as a dog both times. I've never said no when a manager asked me to work an extra shift, just felt grateful for the opportunity. I treat every table and every customer as professionally as I can, to the best of my newly acquired abilities and for the most part have been handsomely rewarded.

Now in six months am walking away from the greatest job I've ever had and moving to Orlando to join my husband again after two years of being apart.

I am freaking out...big time.

I'm over fifty five years old with no idea where I'm going to work making the money I do now and love as much.

Granted Tim is doing well now (thrilled for him) in Orlando but I'm walking away from my over seventy thousand dollar job with no prospect of the same being guaranteed.

When you're over fifty five without a college degree and "just a waitress" is quite the intimidating dilemma, no matter how good a good worker you are.

You know what?

My husband moved a thousand miles away from our family and everyone he loves for almost two years to help this family survive. Surely I can move a few hundred and take yet another leap of faith for him.

I keep telling myself it'll all be okay.

I have to believe it will.

I have six months left to work every shift I can and make each one count in the most positive way to the best of my abilities.

Guess it's time to see how far my PhD in BS  can get me.

My huge thanks go out to Ecco and all they have allowed me to be and do.

It's hard to leave the top.

Til next time...COTTON