Camping

I have just returned from a one-day camping trip to Unity, ME. I haven't done a lot of camping in my day -- prior to this, my last camping trip back in 2007 to the Berkshires only differed from normal life in that my friends and I drank beers in a tent as opposed to someone's living room. We didn't hike, swim, or fish. We ate a lot of marshmellows and listened to music from a wireless ipod dock. It wasn't really roughing it; we were at a camping site, so there were even public restrooms nearby. It's not really camping if you don't urinate outside, in my opinion. And by that standard, this recent trip definitely qualifies.

I journeyed to the northern reaches of the northern-most state in the union to take part in the annual staff trip at the restaurant where I work, Lineage. Every year we close the restaurant for a day in order to partake in some morale building/staff bonding (and binge drinking). In years past, we've gone to Duxbury, MA to visit Island Creek's oyster farm. This year we went to Sparrow Arc Farm (after a quick stop at the Smuttynose Brewery in Portsmouth, NH) to see where most of our produce comes from. We toured the farm, learned about their methods, and actually got to pick some vegetables (summer squash, cucumbers, carrots) for dinner. 

I ate a raw radish right out of the ground and swore never to go hungry again. Well, the first half of that is true.

 As is tradition, the kitchen staff prepared a truly epic feast. We brought with us, via refrigerated truck, an entire small pig to roast. We also brought about two dozen lobsters.

And two cases of wine (Elk Cove pinot gris and pinot noir) and 24 six-packs of beer. We always budget 1 six-pack and a bottle of wine per person, roughly. And we always manage to consume it all, this time plus a few vodka-infused watermelons. After the farm tour/labor portion of the trip, we spent the next eight hours playing lawn games (our chef has a real knack for the beanbag tossing game, Cornhole), throwing water balloons, getting sunburned, snacking, drinking, and relaxing. It was, even for a non-outdoorsy person such as myself, fantastic. I know I complain sometimes on this blog about the trials and thankless tribulations of waiting tables, but the staff I have gotten to work with for the past 2.5 years couldn't be better. We truly get along famously even outside of work. Only two people were not able to come this year (record attendance) and one person even invented a fictional uncle death in order to get out of her day job to come.

I don't know whose tent I eventually ended up in, but I did manage to get in a few hours of sleep -- it started raining around 11:30 pm and after it stopped, I was too tired to rally. In my defense, we met at the restaurant at 6 am in order to get on the road and be at camp by noon. When I woke up at 2:45 am to pee, many people were still around the campfire arguing about Disney movies and using pie-irons to make hotdog sandwiches. And at 7 am this morning, we cleaned and packed and hit the road again. I fortunately don't have to work tonight, but to my comrades-in-arms working on little to no sleep: finish strong.

"Finish strong" is one of our staff sayings, coined by our chef. Every year on the staff trip, we get some sort of memoriabilia. Last year, we got shirts bearing another great chef quote: "Less force, more finesse," which is his advice to newbie oyster shuckers. This year we got beer koozies that say "What happens in Maine stays in Maine." And in order to honor that sentiment, I will wrap things up by saying that a great time was had by all, and thankfully no one had to use the established safe word (waffles). And since a reporter from the Boston Globe witnessed part of the adventure, certain events will soon be made public. (Luckily he left right before one of the cooks decided to semi-streak across a field wearing nothing but this thong.)

Winning things is better than losing things

The Vagnino Monologues is (are?) BACK!


My thesis has been submitted and I have taught my final class of the semester. Now I can get back to blogging and reading things other than my own poetry. Very exciting.

The title of this post is pretty master-of-the-obvious, but still, it's not often that I enter into contests and win them. But recently, Lady Luck has been smiling on me and I have to say -- winning? So much more fun than losing. Y'all should try it.

Win #1: Scholarship money for my trip to China.

In February, I applied for financial assistance for my July trip to China, organized by the Yale Alumni Service Corps. I had to write a brief essay about why I would be an asset, and what skills I bring to the table (karaoke?). I also submitted my tax return, as evidence of my poverty. And lo and behold, they are giving me $1600, the maximum award amount.

I can hardly wait for this trip. I will be staying most of the time at the Smoky Willow Resort in Xiuning, a rural town in the Anhui Province. I really hope I get to stay on the Ladies Floor:

"Specially designed for the female guests who prefer the most peaceful and quiet environment that they so enjoy when being alone, the Ladies Floor section is located in a separate building hidden behind the main hotel block. In addition to the excellent views through the windows, each room and the common area are designed with the fine touch of feminism suited for today’s women with their discerning taste for fine quality of life."

YESSSSSS!


Win #2: A bottle of Jim Beam "Red Stag" whiskey

This I won at Lineage, as the champion of the first-ever edition of Lineage Jeopardy. Lineage Jeopardy was created to test the staff's knowledge in five categories: wine, beer, cocktails, food, and service. I dominated the wine, food and service categories, answering questions like "this herb tastes like green apple" (what is sorrel) and "Gruner Veltliner is traditionally from this country, but the one on our wine list is from this region" (what is Austria and Monterey, CA).

I'm not much of a whiskey drinker, but I figure I should have some booze at my place that's not wine, for guests who are not fellow winos. And look, Kid Rock likes Red Stag!

And obviously, it's my goal in life to emulate Kid Rock in every way. My skeevy goatee is growing in nicely.


Win #3: An all-access Chrome pass to Boston's IFF (Independent Film Festival)

As an Elite Yelper, I get the chance to enter contests every so often. This past Wednesday, I happened to be on Yelp and see that they were giving away a film festival pass and all I had to do to enter was answer a question, which was something along the lines of "what can independent films offer that mainstream Hollywood movies do not?" I wrote something about untidy endings and subtlety and talked about the movie "Once." And voila! I won the pass -- I can attend any and all movies this weekend and get priority seating. I also can go to the after-parties, all of which have open bars and free food.

Last night, I saw the narrative feature "On the Ice," a somewhat grim morality tale about an accidental death that haunts a small town in rural Alaska. Tomorrow I'm seeing the new Miranda July film, some narrative shorts, and a documentary about an artist that reanimates skeletal animal remains using robotics (?!?!)

On the topic of movies, I also recently saw "The Room," written/produced/directed/starring Tommy Wiseau. It was a life-changing experience that warrants its own post, so look for that soon.

It's good to be back, friends! Hope you'll keep reading the 'Logues! Zai jian! (that means see you soon in Mandarin)

O Muse, where art thou?

I'm officially in panic mode regarding my thesis. I have a ton of revisions to work on, plus new poems to generate in order to hit the magic number (48) required for me to get my degree. Sure, I could churn out some crap, but I'd know it and my thesis adviser would know it and while I might still get the piece of paper that says Master of Fine Arts on it, I'd feel like a schmuck, a charlatan.

So I'm calling on the powers of the blogosphere to help me summon my muse. Problem: I don't know what he/she/it looks like.

Eustache Le Sueur, "Clio, Euterpe and Thalia," ca. 1640

Is that what muses look like? If so, they need to get off their lazy asses and come inspire me.

Seriously though, as anyone who endeavors in the creative arts can attest, there is nothing more difficult than knowing you have to produce something RIGHT NOW. That's just not how the process works for most of us. I work well under pressure generally, but I can't just barf out a poem on command. If I do, it will be just that: barf.

I wish I knew more about my muse. Right now, I'm trying to read a bunch of poetry (as well as essays about poetry). I need to have poetry on the brain 24-7, to live, breathe, eat, sleep poetry. Poetry, poetry, poetry, salmon.

Shit. It's Restaurant Week in Boston, so I've been working a lot at Lineage, serving lots of salmon and explaining over and over again what duck confit rillette is. Unfortunately, the brain energy I use at work is antithetical to poem-writing. I wish I could say I'm scribbling sonnets on the backs of menus and discarded napkins, but in reality I'm probably thinking more about whether the woman at table 34 really has an allergy to garlic or is just a vampire, or if the couple awkwardly chatting at the bar is on a first Match.com date.

See? This post was supposed to be all about poetry and my muse and somehow, it got co-opted by other things. No wonder my muse wants nothing to do with me.

Oysters and clams and lobsters, oh my!

I used to have mixed feelings about mollusks. While I have always loved scallops, squid, and mussels (favorite meal: mussels, fries, glass of red wine), clams never did much for me and oysters used to inspire ambivalence (or ambivalvence? PUN!). Oysters were too salty and fishy-tasting, too slimy in texture. I would eat them, if others felt inclined to order them, but I never really understood their appeal.

However, feelings and taste buds can change over time. Now I LOVE oysters and all their accouterments, from the little forks to the mignonette sauce. Fortunately, I work at Lineage, where we serve $1 oysters at the bar every day from 5-7 pm. We get our oysters from Island Creek, which is located in Duxbury, MA, about 35 miles south of Boston. This past Monday, Lineage was closed so that the entire staff (prep cooks, servers, dishwashers, everyone) could take a field trip to Island Creek.

It was a gorgeous sunny day -- we toured the harvesting facilities (it's a small, family-style operation) and then went out to the nurseries at low tide to wade among crabs, clams, oysters, mussels and lobsters. Then we docked at a barge and ate the freshest seafood you can imagine.

Pretty awesome. Definitely a highlight of summer 2010.

If you're in the Boston area, you should definitely come to Lineage for oysters (and dinner!). Restaurant Week(s) is coming up: August 15-20 and 22-27. Also, be sure to watch for the opening of The Island Creek Oyster Bar in September!

Happiness

Happiness hit her like a train on a track

Coming towards her, stuck still, no turning back

She hid around corners and she hid under beds

She killed it with kisses and from it she fled

With every bubble she sank with a drink

And washed it away down the kitchen sink.

-- "Dog Days Are Over" (Florence & The Machine)

The subject of this post is happiness; or more specifically, my recent happiness. And even more specifically, the odd feelings (guilt, suspicion, terror) that have accompanied my realization that I'm happier now than I have been in years.

Happiness is an elusive notion. The pursuit of it, according to the Constitution, is one of our unalienable rights. Obviously, happiness means different things to different people, which perhaps accounts for the 17,529 books on Amazon that either have the word in the title or listed as the subject.

Generally, I think of myself as a positive person, with a fairly optimistic outlook on life. But that doesn't mean I've always been happy. Living in Boston (as opposed to New York) definitely has made me a happier person, but still, it has taken nearly two years for me to feel genuinely happy with my life here.

What has changed? In the last few months, it's like everything has just clicked into alignment. Usually, when one aspect of my life is going well, another is, pardon the expression, in the shitter. If my personal life is on the upswing, I'll be stressed about money/career and vice versa. But right now, everything is going pretty freakin' well. And it's freaking me out.

Job-wise, I'm very content. I love being a server at Lineage: love the food, love my co-workers, and the money is good. It's the first restaurant job I've had that I've found satisfying and not frustrating. And in the fall, I'll be teaching a college class, which is something I've always wanted to do. Very exciting.

I've also finally figured out who my friends are in Boston. This can be a tough town in terms of meeting people and my first year here was pretty lonely. But now, I feel confident that the circle of people I spend my time with are good, caring individuals that have my back and enjoy my company. This is a good feeling.

And finally, last but certainly not least, there is a new and thrilling romance, with someone I met on Match.com. My very first Match date turned out to be a winner -- we've been seeing each other for about 6 weeks now and it gets better every day. All the cliched, eye-rolling emotions have turned out to be true: he makes my heart race, gives me butterflies, and I miss him as soon as he's gone. And I think he feels the same way -- if not, he is a master manipulator, not to mention a superb actor.

But who goes on ONE internet date and meets someone great? What are the odds of that happening? How did I get so lucky?

The answer is, I don't know. For the first time in a long time, there is nothing in my life causing me anxiety. And for those of you who know me, that is bizarre. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the shit to hit the fan...I mean, any day now, I'm going to get fired or get my heart broken, right? It can't be correct that I'm allowed all this good fortune.

Of course, when I told all this to my new guy, his response was "Are you sure you're not Irish Catholic?"

So I'm happy....now what?

Napkins = my nemesis

The hardest part of a new restaurant job for me is not learning table numbers or the names of the kitchen staff. I have a great short-term memory and can recite daily specials till I'm blue in the face. No, the thing I absolutely dread every time I get hired by a restaurant is.....

napkin folding.

Every restaurant has their own way of doing it. And it always takes me much longer than it should to master it. It's like there's a gap in my brain -- things start misfiring and I just can't make the napkin look the way it's supposed to. I'm earning a master's degree and yet the simple task of folding a napkin becomes Herculean when under the watchful eye of whatever server is training me. It doesn't matter how deftly I can refill butter ramekins or polish water glasses. She will lose all respect for me as soon as she sees me try to fold napkins.

As far as I can tell. the skill involved with napkin folding has something to do with spatial reasoning, which I apparently was born without. Spatial reasoning is "the ability to visualize spatial patterns and mentally manipulate them" and is pretty essential for engineers and architects. The Wikipedia entry also states that it is "important for generating and conceptualizing solutions for multi-step problems that arise in everyday life." Great.

This has all been on my mind lately because I finally got hired by a legitimate, well-run, upscale restaurant: Lineage. I'm incredibly happy now that "Dos" didn't hire me. I've done two training shifts at Lineage and no one seems to have noticed my napkin-folding disability yet....but it's only a matter of time. I can only hope that by the time they catch wise, I will have won them over with my charm. The napkins at Lineage appear to be rather simply folded -- if I had shown up for training and seen something like this--

-- I probably would have turned in my bistro apron then and there. Just looking at that picture stresses me out.

Curious about your own spatial reasoning aptitude? Take this free online test to find out your spatial ID.