2008-04-01 - 9:25 a.m.

When I was interviewed for my current job, I told the owner that I wanted to work three, maybe four shifts a week and that I would prefer to work at least one double a week so I could have more entire days off. I saw him write it down in big letters on my application and he smiled at me in relief and said, "That is EXACTLY what we need. We have a full time staff already but we need someone to fill in the gaps."

So it was with great surprise when I looked at my schedule this week and found that I am scheduled SIX DAYS. I am extremely grateful that I had to request today off (I have another test at the hospital today, just a stupid pelvic ultrasound but that does mean that I have to drink 40 oz of water and not go to the bathroom which is always such a joy) otherwise I get the feeling I would have been scheduled seven days instead of the two or three I had asked for.

Yesterday I was composing a letter in my head all day while I was at work. Trying to explain what I had envisioned for my schedule without sounding too bossy or selfish (it wouldn't be fair for to ask for the four best shifts in the restaurant). But then, at some point, I just decided that maybe I should just go with it for now. Just take my six days a week for a while, make a stock pile of monies in the bank, pay off the privacy fence by the end of summer sort of thing. Have extra money for our European holiday this fall (Poland, France and maybe Spain or the UK!!). And why not? Why not just suck it up for a while? Why not carry my financial weight in this marriage for a little while? (of course, this means that Eric will have to carry some domestic weight...but I think he can handle that...right?)

In other news...This restaurant where I currently work has an appetizer called "saganaki" which is just halloumi cheese heated up and then, at the tableside, covered with brandy and then ignited in a big poof of flame. At which point we are supposed to yell, "OPA!" This is going to cause me some discomfort because for one, I have a fear of flaming food and the second and most grandfather was Opa. I don't know why the German word for grandfather and the Greek expression of joy are the same...but, will be very odd for me to yell my dead grandfather's name while holding a flaming plate of cheese. I think I might pass the task off on the other girls should someone actually order it.

In other, other news...I have big things going on in my mind lately.

That is all.


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