Oh, hey everyone. It's good to see you guys. Is that a new haircut? Looks nice.

So after a nine-month blogging hiatus, I'm trying to get back into this game. I'm officially moved over to Wordpress, which seems good for the moment, even if their visual vs. html editor drives me insane when I'm trying to make lists.

All the old posts, comments, tags, pretty much everything from good old Livejournal has been transferred over there, so it's all in one place. I might eventually dismantle this whole deal, but I'm going to keep things up here for awhile at least.

I know it sucks to actually have to go to someone's blog rather than have it show up on a Friends Page, which is why I stuck with LiveJournal through college when most people I knew were still on it. But I'm a grown up human lady now, so it's time to switch things up. Livejournal and I have had a good run, though. I've stuck with this blog longer than I've stuck with pretty much anything.

I'll still be checking up on people on here, so maybe you can check in with me, too?

http://merlygirly.wordpress.com/

I had a great fireworks party and Fourth of July! I'd say Christmas is my favorite holiday because it still feels a little magical and special every year, even when I expect to be jaded and sad. Then Thanksgiving in April is my second favorite, but that's not a real holiday, so we can put it in parentheses. After those two, Fourth of July is my third-favorite for sure.

I started feeling very patriotic when I was living in the Netherlands. I missed the United States so much-- big things, little things, all things. I realized how good my life was here, and how much pride and true love I had for the U.S. This is very embarrassing, but when I was feeling my saddest and riding my bike around Utrecht, I would sing the National Anthem to myself very quietly. And maybe cry a little? It's not that I think America is better than any other country, or that it's the perfect place to live. I just know that, even with all its problems, I love the U.S. and I'm so happy living here. Plus I've been reading these presidential biographies the last couple years, and I feel so inspired and amazed by all the people involved with founding this country. ANYWAY. I really love this holiday.





Marisa and I made patriotic food, and this was my second flag cake. It's just funfetti cake mix with Cool Whip icing and strawberries and blueberries. She made those Jello shots with red, white and blue Jello and more Cool Whip on top. They were great, and she made a special non-alcoholic version for Ben, which was nice. The cake was pretty popular, too. Brian took a bite of his piece, said it was amazing, scarfed it down in like thirty-five seconds and then got himself another piece. I felt awesome.

We went fireworks shopping earlier this week and I spent about $50 on explosives. Everything in the Phantom Fireworks was buy one/get one free, so we had a lot. We did some sparklers and I put my camera on long exposure so we could spell and draw things in the backyard. We practiced writing our names and making swirls and things, then had a contest to see who could create the most vulgar image with an eight-second exposure. Brian won hands-down. He actually went twice, and both of his were better than anyone else's. The series of contest pictures are hilarious, and I wish I had the guts to post them online in all their offensiveness, but you'll have to use your imagination because I'd like to have a real job someday soon.

Anyway, we had a ton of bottle rockets that we set off, then moved up to some Chinese lanterns, some awesome "Stack Attack Night Planes" that shot up high in the air, some spinny things, some sparky things, some Roman candles, and finally the 96-shot flaming ball with report finale. Fireworks are the best. I wish we did this every weekend!















As things were winding down, Brian and I finished the evening by watching the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of Time Chasers, and he loved it! You guys know how much I love Mystery Science, and especially how much I love Time Chasers, so I was so excited to find another friend who actually liked it instead of just tolerated it. And in the last part of the movie they travel back in time to the Revolutionary War, so it was totally appropriate!

The next day, on the actual Fourth of July, I had some leftover cake and champagne, and napped on the couch all day while watching The Venture Brothers. Then I got Chinese food with Ben for dinner and we watched Grease on TV. I could not ask for more.

So today I have my third shift ever at the coffee shop, and I'm working with Mike, so I'm feeling good about it. I will write about it soon, I promise. Basically so far it's just been really stressful, but I think I'm developing some real barista skills. Tomorrow is our grand return to karaoke after a two-week hiatus, and I've been practicing my song selections. Can't wait!

I got a job at Caribou last week, mostly thanks to Mike G. He mentioned a couple weeks ago that they needed to hire someone and I jumped all over it because I've always wanted to work in a coffee shop. I interviewed with the manager and then got hired at the end of my interview with the district manager.

I used to worry a lot about interviews, that I wasn't very good at showing my personality in that kind of situation or I couldn't come up with the right answers to those questions. But after doing two of them in the last three months, and getting both jobs, I think I've got it down. So I'm starting sometime next week, after I do a day of orientation, and I'm pretty excited. I really have always wanted to work in a coffee shop and learn that whole coffee culture. I'm keeping the bakery job because it's not so bad, and the idea is to work 20-25 hours each place.

ALSO, they're across the street kind of kitty-corner from each other, which led to my "great idea." I was talking to Marisa about it, and wondering how much overlap there would be between the bakery and the coffeeshop and how many of the same customers I'd see in both places. Marisa said, "You should just tell them you have a sister," and I said, "That is one of the greatest ideas I've ever heard."

So basically, if anyone comes into the coffeeshop and recognizes me from the bakery, I'll just say that I'm Michelle and my sister Meryl is the one who works over there. And vice versa. I'm not going to go out of my way to offer details to people, just have the story ready if they ask. At most, I think there will be 10-15 total overlap customers, so it might not come up more than once or twice, but I think it's such a hilarious idea. And I've gotten some good tips, like slightly changing aspects of my appearance by parting my hair on the opposite side, or wearing my contacts instead of glasses.

I don't have a lot going on in my life right now, you guys.

Anyway, I think this whole situation could unfold into a good story, and that's why I want to do it. In sitcoms and bad movies, when a set of twins pretend to be the same person or the opposite twin, they always get caught because one of them has information the other doesn't and they get tripped up. But in this situation, I have all the information, so as long as I can keep it straight in my head, I'll be fine. Whenever I've told people about this idea over the past week, it seems really funny, but now that I'm typing it out, I feel like people are going to think it's super dumb. Well you're super dumb.

Fireworks party next week for Fourth of July (!!!!), then a top secret abandoned adventure the week after. And of course you can look forward to all the posts I'll surely be making about my annoying coffee customers. More soon.

Somehow we've become regulars at karaoke night. It started like five weeks ago when Mike and I happened to be at Annabell's on a Wednesday and all of a sudden karaoke started up on the stage in the corner. We thought it was kind of annoying, but didn't think much of it. Then two weeks ago Ben and I went to Annabell's on a Wednesday and met up with Mike and some of his friends. We'd forgotten that Wednesday was karaoke night, but after having a few drinks and watching a few songs, we were all, "Oh, what the hell!"

Then last night we all got together and went to Annabell's with the express purpose of rocking the karaoke. And rock it we did. I think I can honestly say that we brought down the house. It's not that we're great singers. I'm the worst singer. But we have amazing song choices, which I believe is thanks to the small set of rules I've developed for choosing the best karaoke songs.

Meryl's Rules for Choosing the Best Karaoke Song

1. Find something recognizable and enjoyable by the general public.
   If you choose a song nobody knows, then nobody is going to pay attention. Or if you choose a song that's abrasive or difficult to listen to, people will just be annoyed and tapping their feet waiting for you to finish. You need to pick a song people have heard and liked.
   
   
2. Don't be too obvious.
   That means no "Don't Stop Believing," no "I Love Rock and Roll," and pretty much no Michael Jackson. Nobody respects the person who goes for the easy targets, so I think it's best to avoid songs that are totally overdone. I also think songs that are SUPER recent are bad choices because they're too obvious. i.e. no Ke$ha.
   
   
3. Aim for a feeling of nostalgia.
   When the opening notes to your song start, or the title comes up on the lyrics screen, you want people to go, "Man! I love this song!" This rule is kind of a combination of the other two. If it's a song people know, and it's not something they hear all the time, they'll probably be thinking, "I remember this song! This song is so great!"
   
   
4. Keep it shorter than four minutes.
   Four minutes isn't a hard rule, but it's a good guideline to keep in mind. Almost as bad as a song nobody knows is a song that goes on forever. People get bored, you get tired of singing, no one wins.
   

So last week's karaoke was a great start. Mike was the first of our group to sing, and he did "Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads. He had all the intonations and movements from the video down cold, especially the part where he counts increments with his hand against his forearm. It was awesome. Then Ben and I did "Mr. Jones" by the Counting Crows, which is such a great karaoke song. It was so much fun to sing, and it was nice to do it as a duet because I think we were both a little nervous. (P.S. I'm including these YouTube links in case someone's not familiar with all these songs.)

But this Wednesday was even better because we went in with a plan. Mike started strong again with some Talking Heads, which he called his "warm up." Then Marisa did "Layla" by Derek and the Dominos, which I had some concern about at first, just because it's such a long, long song. Fortunately, the karaoke machine version cut out that long instrumental part, and it turned out I had no reason to worry because she KILLED it. Then I was up, and did "Rich Girl" by Hall and Oates, which I think fits all the criteria perfectly. And I love that god damn song. After I did my song, Marisa told me that when she went to the bathroom, some woman in there was asking if she was the girl who had just sung "Rich Girl." Everyone thinks brown-haired be-glassed girls look alike. Ben was up after me and did Lauryn Hill's "Do-Wap (That Thing)" which he rocked. Ben is so great at hip-hop karaoke, it's kind of unreal.





The DJ wanted to make sure everyone got one chance to go before anyone came up for a second time, so we waited around and watched a bunch of other people go and waited for our second turns. For some unknown reason, Mike had signed himself up for "Bohemian Rhapsody" and realized a few minutes before he was up that it was a terrible, terrible song choice. See rules 2 and 4. I told him to change it quick before his turn was up, so he requested to switch to "Bicycle" by Queen instead. The same way that Ben is able to pull off awesome hip-hop, Mike has this awesome stage presence where he sort of jerkily dances and sings with a bizarre intonation, and really works the song for all its worth. Everyone in the bar loved the song, and everyone was laughing so hard the whole time. It was great. Marisa went right after him, and this time did "Lola" by The Kinks. Excellent choice! She was grooving onstage and is a natural in front of a crowd, I was impressed. Plus the song has the chorus that everybody knows, so it was a real crowd-pleaser.

One person went in-between Marisa and I, but we were definitely building up the room each time someone in our group got up there. I know this sounds insane, but every time one of us went up, we had such good song choices and such awesome performances that we brought the entire room to a whole new level of karaoke. Ok, that does sound insane. But seriously! So I went up there armed with one of my favorite songs of all time: "Video Killed the Radio Star" by The Buggles. I used to sing this song to myself in the mirror over and over when I was in high school. Not even embarrassed about that. And as soon as the title card came up on the screen, people in the bar started cheering. Excellent sign.

When I sang the first "Oh! Oh!"s of the song, I heard a chorus of the audience singing along with me and I felt so awesome. Then the chorus kicked in and everybody sang along with that, too. I kind of danced around and snapped my fingers. And while I don't have the same stage presence as Mike, I did my best. I got more and more into it as the song went on, and by the end everyone was singing with the song and I was jumping up and down. After the last chorus, I looked around and everyone was cheering and clapping for me. I put my arms in the air to soak it up, then took a bow and received a dozen high-fives on the way back to my seat. I owned that song so hard and I will entertain no arguments otherwise.

Ben and Shane closed out the night, and our amazing run, with Eminem's "The Real Slim Shady," which ALSO fits all the criteria, and which is perfect for Ben's aesthetic. They had all the lyrics down, and Shane did the sound effects in the background right on time. Last night was so great, I don't know if we'll ever have a better karaoke night.





I'm researching songs for next week. Suggestions?
And I think I'm going to talk Little Greggy into coming, too.


Also, I have more news coming soon, including one of my classic "great ideas" that is actually a terrible idea. And another abandoned adventure! Stay tuned.

Tomorrow I'm going up to Cleveland to explore an abandoned school and I'm stoked enough to use the word "stoked." I've known about it for awhile and had tentative plans to visit last Christmas, but didn't get around to it. I was doing a little research a couple weeks ago in preparation for the trip, and I found an article in the Plain Dealer about how the Cleveland school district is tearing down 25 of their abandoned school buildings around the city. This school was on the list, so we've gotta get in before it's gone.

Sneak peak:


I can't wait. And I can't believe it's almost a year since Abbie and I went to St. Luke's.

I have to work from 10-2, but we're heading out at 2:30. I've roped Ben, Mike and Marisa in, too, so I don't have to worry about getting kidnapped. And they seem like they're actually excited about going, which is nice. I told my dad about it and that I needed to borrow the van to transport everyone, and he sighed. He hates me going to abandoned places as much as I love me going to abandoned places, but he's given up trying to stop me. He said, "Well don't get in any trouble. I'm going to be busy watching the race, so I'm not picking you up if you get arrested."

Other than this, things are about the same. Lots of work, sometimes hanging out in Highland Square or going to dinner with my dad. I've been catching up on some TV, too. On recommendations from people, I started watching Twin Peaks and Breaking Bad. Both of which are AWESOME. I'm all caught up on Breaking Bad and about a third of the way through the second season of Twin Peaks. I think I'm really close to finding out who killed Laura Palmer. Don't you dare spoil it for me.


I'm still applying for real jobs. Actually, I haven't applied for anything in the last three weeks, which is lame of me. I was waiting to hear back about a few things, and then some days I'm burnt out from eight hours of bakery and I just want to lie down and nap, instead of sit at my desk and do another four hours of work. Then sometimes I get this feeling that no matter how many jobs I apply for and how hard I work, no one is ever going to hire me. Ever. Not because of the economy. Because of me, like I'm somehow generally unfit for employment and everyone knows it. I am going to keep applying for things, but I don't feel confident at all. And I don't know what I should do.

That got depressing quick. Anyway. I am really excited for tomorrow. And besides all those abandoned pictures, I have FIVE rolls of film that I'm getting developed this week. Some are pretty recent, but some stretch back to 2007. I can't wait to finally have all the prints-- including my passenger seat glasses series. Just wait until you see it. Oh man, just wait.

My D's out of town in Kansas for the week, so I'm not sure what to do with myself. Like when my roomies would go home for the weekend and it would be kind of pleasant for the first evening, but then by the second day I was a lonely little bunny. I lived by myself for two years before I moved in with Andy, and again for another year before being roomies with Rence and then Sam. I'm OK being by myself. And it's not like my dad and I even hang out beyond sometimes watching TV together or going to dinner. I guess I've just gotten used to having someone else here.

It's still kind of nice, though. My dad and I have been getting along for the most part, but some days he drives me absolutely insane and I have to walk out of the house and go sit on the deck for awhile to calm down. So I guess this week is like an extended period of calming down.

As a sidenote, the "fish" in the note refers to our one, singular fish we own. His name is Big John (named by my grandfather) and he's at least nine years old. I don't remember when we got him, but I remember we owned him all through when I was in high school and college. We actually started out with a tank full of fish, and my dad's been waiting for them to all die so he can get rid of the tank. But Big John has been hanging on for almost a decade. I tell people he's a dinosaur fish and he's evolved to outlive our whole family. If he doesn't, though, I'll give him a proper LiveJournal eulogy when the time comes.



For now I will just say that he is a good fish. An inspiration to us all.

So here's what happened at work today.





I was running a couple minutes late this morning, so I just parked and jumped out so I wouldn't be clocking in late. I never trust my emergency brake because it doesn't work very well. Instead, I almost always put my car in gear when I park it. Except today, of course. It's usually a total reflex, I don't know how I forgot.

I was already stressed out because I was supposed to have the day off today and ended up having to go in, and we were of course really busy. Then this kid from specialty foods comes over and says he needs to talk to me. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news," he said, and I thought he was going to tell me we had a huge brownie order or something. "Your car came out of gear and ran into another car in the parking lot."

I just stared at him for a couple seconds. I really thought he was going to say he was joking, but at the same time I knew that would be a very unlikely joke. I did that thing where you put your hands on your head, then you take them off and look around, then you put your hands back on your head. He told me they were waiting for me outside, so I told Mike I would be right back. Because the store's clientele are all old rich people, I was picturing my stupid Mini butted up against somebody's Cadillac or BMW. As I walked out to the parking lot, my brain actually flashed to the exact dollar amount I currently have in my checking account. And I thought, "There it goes..."

There was one woman out in the parking lot who works up at the cash registers and she asked if it was my car, and I said yes. Then she asked if I'd parked over there like that. We were still in the process of walking over, and I couldn't see my car yet, so I said, "Yeah, I parked right over there," meaning the back parking lot. Then she goes, "WHY DID YOU PARK LIKE THAT!?" Then I saw how my car was bumped into the blue car, and said, "No! I didn't park LIKE THAT, like already hitting that car. I parked right over here." I pointed it out.

This woman could NOT understand how that was possible. "But how did it get over here!?" I just looked at her. I really did not need this nonsense on top of the fact of what actually happened. "It wasn't in gear, so it rolled," I said. "It's a manual transmission, that's what happens if you don't put it in gear." She clearly had no idea what I was talking about. "I just don't understand how it would roll from over there to over here," and she kept saying that. I was so OVER this argument at this point, and said, "Well I didn't just PARK RIGHT HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF HITTING SOMEONE!" Then she suggested that someone had been inside my car, because she didn't think the wheels were turned enough to make it actually roll that direction.

I went over and pulled on the door handle, and of course the car was locked. I explained to her, "No, the car is locked, nobody was inside it. I just turned left into my parking spot, didn't put it in gear when I turned it off, then it rolled on the same angle backwards into this car." At that exact moment, this kid Alex came outside. He works in the cafe and we chit chat sometimes, or he'll come back to the bakery to eat some cookies and get away from his job for awhile. I see him walking out, and I realize it was his car that I hit.

I start apologizing profusely and for the first time I actually look at the damage. There were a bunch of dents on the side of his car, but those clearly weren't from my car because of where they were. However, part of his bumper was knocked out of place, like it came unhooked from where it was supposed to connect. I apologized some more and said I didn't know why my car wasn't in gear. He asked if it was a manual, and I said yes, and of course he immediately understood what happened. I told him that I would completely cover the cost of getting it fixed. But he was totally nonchalant about it and said it wasn't a big deal and not to worry.

But I felt so terrible and then I started to cry. Because I'm lame as hell. He gave me a hug and said it was really OK, but I was like, "It's not OK that I just hit your car. I'm really, really sorry." I wrote down my phone number and said to tell me how much it is to fix it and I'd take care of it. He was just like, "OK, sure," and put the paper in his pocket. I went back to work (after re-parking properly) and told Mike about what happened. Then Sarah came over and said that Alex had been able to just pop the piece back in place and it was totally fine. I was so relieved, but still felt terrible just that it had happened at all.

I asked Mike and Sarah how well they knew Alex, because I wanted to get him a present to try to make it up to him. I was thinking some kind of like candy or cookies or something, but then I realized that what a 20-something guy really wants is alcohol. Mike said he'd heard Alex mention Jaeger before, and that he likes energy drinks. So tonight I went out and bought a bottle of Jaegermeister and a four-pack of RedBull for him. I'm going to wrap them up for him and say, "I'm sorry for hitting your car, and thank you for being so nice about it."

It really could have been terrible.

I work tomorrow, then I have two whole days off. I'm going to get my life together.

My bakery co-worker/friend Mike has been on vacation the last couple days, which means I've been working eight hours a day for the last couple days. That's a lot of bakery.

Every day I probably have one or two crazy customers. While I'm dealing with them, I start planning out how I'm going to write about it later. But by the end of my shift, I don't care anymore. However, here's a little update on the incredibly old, picky woman who took ten minutes to choose chocolatey cookies for her dog. Mike was waiting on her last week, and when he was finished helping her, I was like, "Oh, did you pick out some good dog treats?" Mike fills me in that this lady is 95-damn-years-old. She can't drive, but she lives nearby and walks to the store a couple times a week to buy cookies for her dog. "Yeah, it's kind of sad," he said. "She told me her last dog only lived to be five years old." My mouth literally dropped open. Holy shit. So this woman likes to give her dog cookies because she thinks it makes the dog happy, and she doesn't know or doesn't care that it's bad for the dog. And of course the dog likes cookies because the dog is a dog and doesn't know chocolate is bad for it. And then the dog only lives to be five years old. Holy shit, that's so sad.

I mentioned Roger and Candice before, the two mentally disabled people who work in the bakery some afternoons. Candice is really sweet, and Roger cracks me up with all his questions about what I ate for dinner. But Roger has a problem with interrupting me when I'm helping a customer, because he wants to ask what I'm going to watch on TV later. I feel bad because I have to be short with him and kind of yell at him to wait, because obviously helping the customer is more important. But I try not to hurt his feelings.

The other thing is that Roger sometimes invades my personal space. I really like my personal space. I mentioned that he loves to make up long, complicated handshakes with a lot of pounds and snaps, and he always wants to end the handshake with a bro-style hug. But the hugs are a little too much for my personal comfort, or he'll pat me on the shoulder when he walks by me or something. The thing is, I like being physically close and huggy with my best friends or with my boyfriends, but I don't feel comfortable hugging acquaintances or strangers. I don't even like it when they touch me on the shoulder or brush past me. My dad calls me a "touch-me-not" because when I'm curled up on one end of the couch and he's sitting on the other, I'll make a noise and instinctively jump back if he accidentally touches my foot . It's just the way I am.

So I'm not sure what to do in this situation. I feel like I should treat him like I would anyone else who wasn't mentally disabled, and say something like, "I'm kind of a weirdo and I don't like hugs, so how about an awesome high-five?" But I don't know if he'd be able to comprehend what I'm saying. I'm not sure what to do about it; I might ask Mike what he thinks.

I really am glad that Mike has become my work friend, because I don't dread going in if I know I'll be working with him and I'll at least have someone to talk to. Like I told him all about Thanksgiving and about these jobs I'm applying for, or we just talk about movies and normal things like that. It's nice to have another person to talk to, because I feel really isolated spending all my time with my dad. I'm accumulating (or getting back in touch with) more Akron friends, like I hung out with Mike G. and Ben last week, and I talk to Rence on the phone or hang out with him every couple weekends when he's up here. Social contact is the only thing I feel like I'm lacking a little right now, but I think it's going to get better.


Just to break up so much text, these are the homefries I learned to make last week.
They are incredibly delicious.




That is not a great picture, but it makes me think about how the bakery is a fantastically photogenic place, as I mentioned before. And not just the cakes. Today I was thinking about how much I would love to do a portrait series of all the people who work there, just in their natural element doing their jobs. But I don't think it will ever happen because I'm still so new and they wouldn't understand what I wanted the pictures for, or they'd just tell me to put down the camera and get back to work cutting brownies. I'm going to start carrying my camera in my purse every day, though, and maybe I'll find a couple stray opportunities.

Thanksgiving in April 2010 was one for the books.



I was planning to go down to Athens on Friday morning, so I spent Thursday running all over Akron buying the turkey, all the food, drinks, cups, etc. I also went through my boxes in the basement and found my tablecloths, dishes, pots and pans, etc. I packed two dining room tables into the van and a bunch of chairs gathered from around the house. It was about 7:00 by this point and I was starving since I hadn't had anything to eat all day, so I decided to drive through Burger King and get a chicken sandwich.

BIG MISTAKE.
BIG, BIG MISTAKE.

About two hours later I was working on a small test-run of the stuffing (I've never made stuffing before) and I started feeling a little sick. By the time the stuffing was ready, I could only eat a few bites because my stomach was aching. I thought it might just be nerves since I get so excited for Thanksgiving, so I just curled up on the couch watching TV and then went to bed around midnight. I woke up at 2 a.m. and knew something was very wrong. I started barfing my guts out. I had food poisoning.

I won't to go into huge detail of all the horrible, horrible things happening to me, but I had 8/8 of the symptoms listed here. I couldn't sleep because my stomach hurt so much, it felt like there was a rock in my stomach. And every twenty minutes I had to crawl out of bed to go to the bathroom. I tried to drink water, but just puked it all back up. This went on for over twelve hours. I have never been so sick in my entire life, and my entire body was in pain. I'd walk from my bed to the door, then have to curl in a ball on the floor and cry and breathe before I could get up and make it into the bathroom. Then I'd puke and sit curled up in a ball on the floor in the bathroom and cry and breathe before I felt like I could walk back to my bed. After awhile, there was nothing left in my guts for me to puke up, but my body kept trying.

I started wondering if I was dying. Like maybe I had E. Coli and all my organs were slowly shutting down and I was going to die right there, lying curled in a ball on the bathroom floor. Then I thought, if I died, would everyone still have Thanksgiving in my memory? But I didn't die. I lived. I sent out a mass text message to the people in Athens expecting me that afternoon and told them I had food poisoning and didn't know when I'd make it down. By 5 p.m. I still felt like death, but was able to psych myself up to get pants on and get in the car. I did not puke in the car, but I did when I got to Anna's. She was really wonderful and helped me get all the food unpacked from the car and get into bed. Then she stayed up and made four pies, prepped and thawed the turkey and made the broccoli casserole.

When she was helping me get to bed, Anna said, "You're really sick, it's OK if you want to cancel. People will understand that you have food poisoning." But there was no way I was going to let that happen. I had this whole, "The show must go on!" mentality, plus my normal martyr complex, plus the principle of not letting Burger King ruin my favorite day of the year. Yes, I thought I was slowly dying, but that just meant I would be slowly dying while I pulled off Thanksgiving in April. There was no way I was canceling.





The next morning I woke up and initially felt much better, but started going back downhill. I was still puking and the only thing I'd successfully eaten in 36 hours was a banana. Anna and Abbie really stepped up and made sure everything got done, because I couldn't do anything. They were so wonderful. I felt terrible (like sick), but I also felt terrible (like guilty) because Thanksgiving is my whole big event and everyone else was having to do all the work. Just carrying a bag of potatoes from the car to the kitchen took all the life out of me and I had to lie down on the couch for a few minutes. So Anna and Abbie set up the tables and chairs, Abbie peeled the ten pounds of potatoes and then Anna chopped them up. Brian showed up and helped us get the stuffing and sweet potatoes ready. Bethany took care of the corn on the cob, and also made her normal offering of banana bread.

The only thing I really did was the turkey. I prepped it for the oven with butter and broth and then basted it a few times over the next couple hours between getting myself ready. I think I looked reasonably presentable, and I managed to look energized in some of the pictures, even though I didn't take very many good ones. When Samantha got there, she said, "As terrible as you feel, you look really cute," which was nice. Everything was so stressful, though. Trying to figure out if we had enough gravy, if the turkey would be done in time, how we would fit all 22 chairs around the tables. Usually I kind of love this craziness, but it was wearing me out. By 6:30, almost everyone was there and hanging out on the porch. Because we had a shortage of alcohol last Thanksgiving in April, I told everyone to bring a bottle of wine so we would definitely have enough. And we definitely did. It seemed like everyone was having a great time drinking and talking, so it was OK that we were running a little behind.









When I finally went outside at 7:30 and announced that dinner was ready, everybody cheered and clapped, and it made me feel wonderful. We set up a buffet on the coffee table in the living room so everyone could go through and fill their plates, then find a seat. Brian's drunk self carved the turkey and all the food looked and smelled amazing. I was really proud of how everything turned out. We had (a 22lb) turkey, meat stuffing, vegetarian stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, broccoli-cheese casserole, corn on the cob and banana bread.

I always love giving a little toast before dinner because it's my chance to tell everyone how much I love and appreciate them and thank them for coming to Thanksgiving. I was thinking last week about what I wanted to say in my toast this year, but then I got sick and everything went out the window. So I stood up to address everyone, and they all cheered and clapped again, which made me feel so good. Then I gave a kind of crappy, but heartfelt 30-second speech about how I look forward to Thanksgiving in April all year long and it means so much that everyone shows up to celebrate it with me.

I hadn't told most people I had food poisoning because I didn't want them to worry about eating a bunch of food I'd cooked, like I might get them all sick, too. But I wanted to give proper credit to Abbie, Anna, Brian, Bethany and everyone else who'd actually prepared everything. So I just briefly mentioned it and said I'd been incapacitated for the last two days and thanked them for actually making all the food, since I couldn't do anything. I actually forgot to publicly thank Abbie and Meghan for letting us use their HOUSE, but I thanked them myself a million times later. I also forgot to publicly thank my dad, because he (as much as he thinks things like Thanksgiving in April make no sense and doesn't understand why I spend so much time doing this every year) helped me out a lot and actually bought a lot of the food, which I did not expect him to do at all. He was just being nice and helping me out. So there's my second-chance thanks to everyone.







Everyone said the food was great, but I couldn't eat anything. I took a little bite of each dish to make sure it tasted OK when we were cooking, but my stomach wasn't having any real food. So I filled a small plate and poked at it while I watched everyone else eat. I actually got great enjoyment out of that. After dinner we had cranberry crumble pie and sweet potato pie (there was a pumpkin shortage in Athens). I also served the Merly Girly while we watched my DVD of our favorite classic, hyper-patriotic, Thanksgiving educational film presentation.

Even though I was sick, I still had a good time, and I was so happy to see that everyone else had a great time. I didn't get a chance to talk to most people other than thanking them for coming, but everyone told me how great it was to see each other, or to meet new people and hang out and eat together. And they thanked me for keeping Thanksgiving in April going every year because they look forward to it. That is so what it's about, and I'm so glad people feel that way! Even when I'm dying, my life is the best. That should have been in my speech. I also made little hand turkey decoration/party favors for everyone with their names on them. They have magnets on the back, too, so you can put them on the fridge and keep them forever.



Everybody went out to the bars after dinner, and I joined them for about half an hour, but I was wiped out and had to go back to Anna's and sleep. By Sunday morning, I was feeling almost back to normal. Abbie helped me clean everything up and we packed all the tables and chairs back in the van.

I got back to Akron while it was still light outside and was feeling good. I made myself a small plate of leftovers, covered everything with gravy and ate it in front of the TV. Then I had a piece of cranberry pie. It was the first meal I'd eaten in three days, and god damn it was delicious.



Thank you everyone for a great, great Thanksgiving!
I can't wait for next year.

Bits and pieces from the bakery:

• Two days ago we had a jalapeño cornbread that was going to expire, so we broke it up into pieces for samples. We also have regular cornbread, so because it had jalapeños in it, I wrote up a little sign for the sample tray that said "Jalapeño Cornbread" so people who didn't like jalapeños wouldn't accidentally eat it. And I put it right in front of the tray so people would definitely see it. Of course NO ONE paid any attention because the 80-year-olds who shop there are so greedy for samples. So all day these old people were coming up, grabbing a piece of jalapeño cornbread and making horrified faces. They'd look at me and exclaim while fanning their mouths, "THAT'S SPICY!" and I'd pretend to act concerned and say, "Oh yeah, that's the jalapeño cornbread. I thought I put a sign up so people would know." And then I'd point to the sign. I felt kind of bad the first time, but then I found it more and more hilarious as it kept happening. They literally had to reach over the sign to take the cornbread, but all they saw were NOM NOM NOM NOM SAMPLES!
  
  
• As you have surmised, most of our customers are senior citizens and most of them love their samples. There are a lot of sample stations throughout the market, and these people just spend every afternoon walking around the store eating a few bites at each sample station and make a lunch of it. So when we don't have any samples, or other people ate all the samples, these old people get cranky. The other thing is that people come to the bakery just for the samples, so there will be tons of people standing at every single counter. And of course I have to go up to every single one and ask if I can help them, and they all tell me, with sample-filled mouths, that they're just browsing.
  
  
• Something more fun! Mike is still my favorite person to work with, and now we're kind of gossip buddies. I firmly believe there is no point in having a job unless you have someone at that job to gossip with. So I get to ask about the different people who work in the store and in the bakery and get their different backstories. And we just joke around and have a decent time. He also said the "Don't feel bad about asking me a bunch of questions, I won't think you're stupid" thing again, which I really appreciated. Like when I said I kept confusing the ciabatta bread and foccacia bread for some reason, and he was like, "Hmm, well, they're both Italian." And I said, "Well that makes sense. Because I also confuse the pope and foccacia bread," and he was like, "Yeah, or a Vespa scooter and foccacia bread." In case you're wondering, I want to be clear that I'm not looking to date Mike. One, because I think he's married, and Two, because I'm really not looking to date new people at all right now. But I'm going to let myself enjoy working with him because it makes work not suck.
  
  
• The people who work at the bakery, and the market as a whole, are really diverse, and I work with a couple people who are mentally disabled. Candice comes in the afternoons and scoops all the cookie dough for the next day's cookies, and this guy Roger works in the back of the bakery washing dishes, cleaning the oven, stuff like that. Candice is really quiet, but Roger is this total character. He cracks me up. First of all, he loves to come up with long, involved handshakes with a bunch of high-fives, snaps and pounds. They go on for like 30 seconds. Then he asks questions about every single thing in your life. Like "What's your favorite movie?" "What's your favorite song?" "What are you going to do when you get home?" "What did you have for dinner last night?"
  
  Another woman I work with, Sue, was like, "Roger should be a detective," which was really funny. He asks these same questions to everybody every single time he sees them, and it's pretty funny, unless I'm trying to help a customer and I have to tell him to wait. When I first met him, I thought he was deaf because he has a speech impediment and he sort of gestured to his ear when he asked my name. I got so excited for a second because I thought he knew sign language and we could practice, but then I realized he just had problems speaking. For the first two weeks he called me "Marty," and then asked if that was my name. I'd tell him it was Meryl, and he'd call me Meryl for about two seconds, then go back to Marty.
  
  
• This place is so photogenic with all the fancy cookies and cakes and things. But I'm afraid to bring my big ass camera in there and start snapping pictures because I just started working there. And I had to sign a whole confidentiality thing that I wouldn't tell anyone the bakery recipes. So I'm totally, irrationally worried that they'll think I'm taking pictures for some secret ops. I've taken a couple cellphone pictures, but they're shitty looking. Here's a couple of the samples, the brownies, and this gigantic chunk of the HARDEST chocolate that I had to break apart with a hammer and pitchfork one day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• We give out free cookies to any kids who come into the bakery, which is the HANDS DOWN best part of the job. Usually they're so cute and well-behaved, and their parents make sure they say please and thank you. We had the absolute cutest little boy come in the other day. He had bright red hair and was so spunky and adorable. He jumped up on the little stairs for kids, said hi and told me his name was William and it was really cute. And I get to give these kids cookies and make them happy. It's the best. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to be around adorable children, or be allowed to watch TV shows about babies. Because even though I don't want to have any kids for another 8-10 years, I see these kids and all I want is a bunch of babies right now. I hate that my mind actually works that way. I hate it so much.
  
  However, sometimes the kids are all sneaky and lame. Like they try to come back multiple times for cookies, and their parents don't know, or sometimes don't care. Or the parents want free cookies for themselves (even though we say that we have free cookies "for the kids"). This puts us in a weird position because we're supposed to only give them one cookie, but we are ALWAYS supposed to make sure the customers are happy. So I have to give them the extra cookies, but I'm secretly thinking that they're going to grow up into jerky kids.

Whew, that was a lot. I have to go in tomorrow for a few hours, then I MUST MUST MUST finish this job application tomorrow night and Monday. Then it's Thanksgiving every way to Sunday.