Tuesday, February 23, 2010

New Kicks & Camouflage

A good friend just told me that my last two posts have been on the wordy side, so I need to keep this brief. I would say that I was shocked, but I'm not. Just last week the same friend told me that I could stand to lose a few pounds. As I sat enjoying a bean burrito and mulling over her comments, it dawned on me that she may be onto something. If I get winded while walking to fetch a Coke refill, I may need to shed some weight. (If I weren't trying to keep this short, I'd discuss class being crazy busy and not getting a lunch break today. But I am so I won't.)

Sitting is not allowed in the kitchen. Barstools, though present, remain unused. We stand and move all day, so our footwear is very important. Uniform rules dictate that we wear black shoes of the kitchen variety. Since I worked in an office setting for ten years, I didn't own 'kitchen' shoes in black (or any other color for that matter). I wore my black dress shoes from the office to class for the first few weeks. This was fine until we made it to the kitchen and were forced to surrender our seats to the Nazis. With the increased standing came increased foot and back pain. I needed new shoes, but didn't know where to find them. I wanted something that would last, reduce pain and look stylish. Two out of three isn't bad. I ended up with durable and comfortable. The stylish part is up for debate. To me they're a blend of clown shoes, wooden Dutch shoes and ladies footwear (They're actually unisex). Back pain is almost nonexistent in them, but they make it difficult to bust a move in the kitchen. In spite of this I highly recommend them. If you are on your feet alot and need shoes that provide good support, visit Trippets and tell them that I sent you (I'm working on getting a discount for a second pair in a different color for the weekends).

Speaking of the weekends brings us to last weekend and the camouflage. No, I did not don some mossy oak and head for the club. The camouflage was referring to a birthday cake. This one was for a four year old boy who wanted an army cake. Since camo makes me think of the army and since I wanted to try painting with vodka again, I opted for a camo cake. It was a small single tier round cake with buttercream frosting under the painted fondant. After running short on time with the previous week's cake, one would think that I would learn from mistakes, plan ahead and start early. Not so. The party was set for 8:00 Saturday night, and I didn't start mixing the cake until 1:15 in the afternoon. Because of the time, I found that I was trying to get myself mentally psyched up. I caught myself playing upbeat music, trying to get jiggy in chunky shoes (this is nothing new other than the shoes) and chanting things like, "I will work hard, I will work fast, I will not sit, kneel or lie down." Then it hit me that I was basically reciting the rules from Laser Quest. Hours later when the stress got to me and I held my spatula in the air and cried, "Marshall!" nothing happened.

In the end the cake got finished, but I was late getting it to the party. Again I was fortunate, because this one was for family members who were too busy fighting the insane crowds and playing games to worry about the time. Unfortunately I was so rushed to get to the party that I was halfway across Tulsa before I realized that I had left the house wearing the hideous non outfit matching kitchen kicks, and there was no turning back (I'm going out with my clogs on...).

Okay. That's it. The two promised topics and no more. Short enough? (I hope you're happy. I hope you're happy now. I hope you're happy how you... )

Happy Grubbing.


  1. I can just see you yelling Marshall...to yourself...in the kitchen.


    And I loathe you. The end.

  2. You are too funny Dustin! I don't think you are too wordy since the blogs are entertaining, now if they were boring that woudl be a different story. Then again I'm a bit on the wordy side, so I may not be the best person to say something on this one. :D

  3. Jenn: I'm not worried about your loathing. You loathe it all, everything, so it's nice to know I'm not being discriminated against.