Most blog posts are coming in second-hand as I decided to break my ankle the day before I was supposed to leave for Chicago. 

A tale by Sassy:

Rando male line-cook at bar: "So, you work with an almost entirely female kitchen crew?" 
Me: "I mean, the a.m. crew tends to be. Why?" 
Rando: "Just very unusual. I'm curious.... What's that like?" 
Me: "I've never thought of it like that before, but honestly, the biggest differences are that the food is better and the horrible jokes are an octave higher."


(An aside by the editor: Anyone who thinks women in the kitchen is highly unusual is probably limited in experience. It's not exactly mind-boggling.  They're even about the same concentration of lazy/stupid/bad-ass/talented as men, because it turns out we're all just human.  End societal feminist rant)

Shady and Sassy are the real heroes forever and always since they effectively packed and moved the majority of our house with my dude Gem (who got the Uhaul stuck in sand, poor guy) while I pathetically limped around feeling sorry for myself.  

I did manage to drag my ass to work about 3 days this last week, where I bickered with Shady about cutting celery ("Imagine a world....where you never have to worry....about whether the celery is cut....ever again.  That's reality until I'm out of this airboot.") and Sassy went and found the stool she hid from an outrageously lazy prep cook.  I cut roughly 15,000 vegetables while sitting on my ass which was boring as fuck but it was nice to see my people again.

Que sera
Otto