Stream of Consciousness

Am currently sitting at the bar of my new gig - a friend's restaurant where I am cocktailing/bartending/bar backing/hostessing/letsberealI'mthegogetmesomethingbitch. The owner and I are working on creating the beer and wine menu bit by bit. He's running around waiting tables and schmoozing and I'm sitting here thinking, soaking up the hot night air, people watching (it's amazing how many 50's-ish couples I've seen making out in the past 3 days), and every once in a while remembering that I actually care about the Jets game and looking up at the score.

Admitted to a friend last night that I care more about the Jets at this point than either of the Bay Area teams. I do feel bad about this, and would never claim the Jets as "my team" - but I've become disenchanted.

Putting together this menu has taught me so much more about the complexities of various brews than sitting behind the bar and jabbering with bartenders ever has. I guess it's the literary nerd in me that soaks up what I read faster than what I hear.

I was working behind that bar last night when I noticed one customer had "No Love" tattooed on his neck, just below his right ear. He was around 25, wearing shorts that reached his ankles and a shirt that reached his knees, an SF Giants hat with the silver sticker still clinging to the underside of the bill, and a big endearing smile. We chatted about the music (Latin Jazz), he cracked jokes about his "woman" and her new nipple piercing, I teased him for his unwillingness to wear clothes that fit. When I asked about his tattoo he was dodgy, I looked closer and noticed that the "V" in "LOVE" had a blank space in it, like he had erased the left side of the letter only.

"Oh that? That's just from where they stuck the IV in me in the ER the night I got shot" he said.

He casually lifted his shirt and pointed out four bullet scars. One just bellow his left nipple, one in the middle of his torso on the right, one above his belly button, and one on his left love handle. In the middle of this madness was a scar stretching from his waistband to his chest.

"I'm gonna get a zipper tattoo over that scar dude, it's gonna be TIGHT" he said to his partner in crime for the evening, loud and laughing.

He told me that he'd been shot once three times, another time only once, and stabbed twice.

I asked him why the flying f-bomb he was living in the same terrible neighborhood, starting the same stupid fights, and hanging out with the same idiots. He laughed.

--- I understand the reality of it: home is home, friends are family, life is repetition. But this kid is smart. He's funny. He's charming, attractive (save for the terrible clothing) and seems to have a good perception of the world and how it works. So what the hell?

As he was leaving he said he would be bringing in his resume soon. All I saw as he pushed open the double doors was four bullet holes burning through his shirt.

-a

Two Nicknames

So What If I'm Kinda Butch

Every Sunday is work day here on the boat, and a few weeks ago a friend snapped a few shots of the projects. The most recent installation was 100 year oldDouglas Fir flooring in the kitchen (before and after pics to come). Some neighbors of ours have dubbed me "The Most Butch Straight Girl We Know" due to the fact that they have often looked over to see me using loud power tools. Here we're staining the freshly built stairs that lead from the main deck to the upper deck.

The Band I Want To Join

A friend traveled to Denver a while back and was immersed in the music scene, befriending many of the local bands. He came home and spread the newly acquired music like wildfire, and I fell in love. Maxwell Hughes plays the guitar like he's unlocked all of it's secrets. The Lumineers sing strong and true songs in the Indi Folk genre (kind of). The two acts are currently on the road and contacted us when a gig was cancelled in our area, so I called a friend who owns a restaurant and we got them booked for a last minute show. With so little time for prep and marketing the crowd was small - delectably so. Max warmed us up with a selection of his solo stuff (he's on iTunes) and then joined the other three to do the Lumineers' set. They all played open air (no mics, amps, etc) and the intimate gathering made my soul sour. Throughout the four days that they were in our midst I had them over to the boat for dinner and asked them to play a few songs for my dad who had missed the show. I earned the nickname Adamant Ali as a result, but I also met and fell in love with four amazing people - pictured here at the show I pulled together in 2 hrs.

Wesley, Jer, Max, and Neyla - The Lumineers

(It's becoming quite clear to me that my little purple digital camera is in need of replacement)

Inspiration comes to me through creativity and creation.

On a side note - I've been meaning to make some new signs for my workplace but have grown quite rusty in the art of lettering. While researching fonts and tricks to help me get my groove back, I found a quick and easy calligraphy lesson.

Cheers!

-little a

I did it too!

I, The Muddah, participated in my very first craft fair. Okay, so it wasn't a REAL craft fair; it was an Art Stroll in El Cerrito, CA, but I showed my handiwork for the first time in public and it was received quite well.