october=rocktober.

october is national bullying prevention month. i’ve been a very lucky girl that i wasn’t bullied much as a kid. it did happen, but i was fortunate that i had friends who were supportive and amazing and because of this, i was able to shrug off bullying. others aren’t so lucky it seems. i’ve heard people say things like “he/she needs to have a thicker skin” or “just brush it off.”

here’s the thing. in order for someone to stand up, he or she’s got to have someone to stand behind them. someone who has their back, who will listen and support, and be aware enough to know when a person’s needing more than just a friend. so please use this month to not only remind your kids, neices, nephews, and other school age kids that bullying is painful and destructive, remind them that it’s just as important to remain a positive force for awesomeness so that no one has to struggle alone against bullying. and that’s not just a message for kids, but adults too.

it’s october in boone. i have a love/hate relationship with october in boone. i love the beauty, the colors, the upcoming time with family, tailgating, football, friends, etc. i hate traffic, tourists who act superior, tourists who can’t drive, tourists who think they aren’t tourists, tourists who don’t tip, and using both heat and air conditioner in the same day.

but damn october is pretty up here.

around this time of year the restaurant business really picks up. i mean really. it’s just past peak week here in boonetown and i’ve been getting my ass kicked at the restaurant (job number two). it’s great for all my waitstaff, bussers, and expos, but exhausting for me. i’ll get over it. here are some lessons from a long time server/bartender/hostess/cashier/busser/yougetthepointi’vedoneitall (i may write a whole book about it one day so consider yourself previewed):

  • as a waitstaff one must realize that just because someone asked you a question you’ve been asked about 700,000 times (and counting) that does not mean they should know the answer. don’t fault them for asking a quesiton even if it annoys you.
  • as a customer, remember that your server is a human being, they’re going to screw up sometimes and unfortuately this may be on your order. be patient and give them a chance to fix it. communicate with your server. if there is still a problem, then it’s time to talk with a manager. often a server can fix something quickly and easily.
  • restaurant employees: you. are. not. an. island. you need help, well so do others. please work as a team.
  • customers, the best way to get great service is to tip well. and i don’t mean that 10% is a good tip. tipped employees are taxed on the food that you eat. that’s right… you get to pay tax on the food and so do they. 20% people. 20% (or more). if the service is a problem, see bullet point 2. if the problem persists, ask for a manager.

ok, i’m done with my october soapbox. here’s a pretty picture.

my dog ate my craft basket…

i have this really great little dog. the story of how we found each other goes a little like this:

growing up, i never really had a dog. yes, we did have the occasional pet, but my own dog, no can do… allergies. ugh. i’m allergic to everything it seems like… horses, dogs, cats, ferrets, rabbits. so stupid! it sucks because i really like animals a lot. anyways, i never knew the joy of being a mommy. so, one day, i am dropping off a donation at the humane society and while i’m sitting waiting for someone, this ball of fur jumps in my lap. he looked at me and i was a goner.

i asked a little more history about the little (what i thought was a) puppy and found out that no, he is indeed full sized at 10 pounds and won’t grow anymore, he’s a purebred miniature poodle, he’s epileptic, and he’s 8 years old. cue the choirs of angels, i found a dog i wasn’t allergic to. oh, and his name was “Little Buddy.”

ok, who names their dog “little buddy?” for reals? i left him there and went home to think and to plan. i had never imagined an animal would walk into my life and just… belong. two days later, i picked up the little furball and they told me his akc registry had read “bentley” prior to being destroyed (side bar: animal shelters destroy any registries on animals and fix them as a standard practice… never knew that). i brought my baby home.

as we started getting used to each other, i learned that animals respond to one or two-syllable names better, thus… ben. that’s my kid. it confuses people a lot since i gave him a human name (more on his full name and it’s origins later) and i talk about him like he’s a person rather than a dog. sometimes people think he’s my kid, sometimes my boyfriend… it’s pretty funny.

a good friend of mine actually blessed ben with his full name. shortly after bringing ben home, i realized the kid was like magic. i have a trashcan with a lid on it. it’s a good sturdy trashcan many times the size of my dog. my roommate at the time had thrown away a very tasty leftover sub. while i was at work, my dog managed to not only get the leftovers out of the trashcan, he did so without tearing the trashcan up or removing the lid. there was subway wrapper EVERYWHERE. as i’m telling the story, trevor says “ah… the force is strong with this one i see” and recommends his middle name to be…

kenobi

my dogs name became ben kenobi. as in the star wars character. since then he has been proving very adept at the force. honestly, if he’d been in the movies, they could have stopped after the first episode. well, if they hadn’t made the last 3 first. eh.

my dog is still getting into all kinds of shenanigans. his most recent feat has been to get in the closet and drag out all my craft stuff (i’m a knitter. lots of yarn) all. over. my. livingroom. i’ve had him for 3 years now and he still is a pain in the butt. but he’s my pain in the butt. and i love him.

my sweet boy. sleeping. he’s almost as good at sleeping as he is eating and making messes.

 from google. the kiddo’s namesake.

i will judge you, but i will judge you fairly.

i suppose it’s time for me to admit a certain personality flaw of mine. i’m a judger. yes, i will make judgements based on what i know about you. no, those judgements won’t be based on what i’ve heard, but rather what i KNOW. i have tried to stop this rather obnoxious habit… but i just think it’s my nature. now, before you judge me as an irredeemable judger (see what i did there? eh?) there are a few things you need to know about my judgements.

just because i judge how i feel about a certain aspect of your youness doesn’t mean that i will fall along the lines of what others would feel. my brain works in very odd ways. nor does it mean that i will treat you any differently based on my judgement of you. one thing i’ve learned is that until you fight the same battle someone else has fought, your judgement does not dictate how you would react in the same situation.

second, i’m not a one-and-done judger. i will make judgements over and over, some of my judgements (whether positive or negative) will turn out to be accurate assessments of personality or character (or personal hygene… ahem…), others will be wrong. i’m not perfect, i’m not god. my opinions are my own and are subject to change.

also, know that i don’t make judgements lightly i live in a world where facts are the basis for all judgement and that means all the facts, not one or two tidbits here and there. however, facts and compassion must be balanced. to judge someone with no compassion is to treat them unfairly and just because i have made an assessment regarding someone doesn’t exclude mitigating circumstances or the fact that the person i judge is first and foremost a person.

finally, i will judge you based on your actions and the words that ocme out of your mouth. never think i would ever judge a person on any physical characteristic. our outsides don’t shape our insides. i will never walk the runways in milan, will never go down in history as a great beauty. so what right do i have to judge someone else on what i perceive their physical identity is?

i leave you with a quote. while i know i don’t follow it as well as i should, it’s always with me, posted right next to my front door.

Pray don’t find fault with the man who limps
or stumbles along the road,
unless you have worn the shoes he wears
or struggled beneath his load.
There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt,
though hidden away from view,
or the burden he bears, placed on your back
might cause you to stumble too.
Don’t sneer at the man who’s down today
unless you have felt the blow
that caused his fall or felt the shame
that only the fallen know.
You may be strong, but still the blows
that were his if dealt to you,
in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time,
might cause you to stagger too.
Don’t be too harsh with the man who sins
or pelt him with word or stone,
unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure,
that you have no sins of your own –
for you know perhaps if the tempter’s voice
should whisper as softly to you
as it did to him when he went astray,
it might cause you to stumble too.

toodles kiddos.