Dream: the one where i work at a popular lunch place turned classy lunch and dinner fine dining, and we eat pink asparagus before the dinner shift

Several nights ago I dreamed:

That I worked for a popular lunch place and they had just moved to a fancy new building. It had several dining rooms and was like a converted Victorian style hotel. Some of the old hotel rooms had been converted to staff boarding rooms - like a dorm only worse, instead of going to class and eating too much ramen noodles, you just went down the hall and you were at work. A stressful rush around the place kind of work I'd like to add. In the dream, I woke up (still in the dream, stay with me!) and realized I was late for my dinner shift. The staff all met for a late afternoon meal before we reopened for dinner and I had to hurry and get there. The other ladies I shared a room with were rushing around and just about ready. I quickly got up and dressed in my supposed-to-be-classy white button down shirt and black slacks and realized it would take to much time to put on my shoes and socks. I was lucid enough to think to myself, I'm dreaming, just make the shoes be on and they will be. I was still somewhat surprised when it worked. It was like cheating on a game. I made it down to dinner with everyone else and we sat down to eat some of the Chef's fancy new cuisine. Let me add here that I know that the restaurant is in our small town with a population of around 40,000, there is nothing like this building in town but we do have several resturanteers trying to be the fanciest snazziest places in town (gotta make a living yo). This is why the Chef had prepared pink asparagus, artichokes, and some sort of dessert that looked like sliced bananas that I expected to tasted like strawberry banana cheese cake - instead it tasted like undercooked plantains. I woke up while contemplating the dessert in my dream.

Dream over.

hint at what i'm working on for next post

i'm having a hard time describing my latest dream i want to post... some of the description is getting a little awkward ... i mean really, PINK ASPARAGUS? I googled it, it grows in white, green and purple varieties but i didn't find any pictures of it growing pink in hue.

Here's the working title for the post i'm working on:

Dream: the one where i work at a popular lunch place turned classy lunch and dinner fine dining, and we eat pink asparagus before the dinner shift

Better Late Than Never

(I am reposting this from my original blog 5/28/08 because I liked writing it and I made eggs this morning)

My husband of nearly five years surprised me. Not in a randomly bringing flowers kind of way. This was more of an I-can’t-believe-you-waited-this-long-to-tell-me kind of surprise.

When we first got married, we both worked, but I tried hard to be a good little housewife – you know, always have fresh towels in the bathroom, never run out of socks or coffee or toilet paper, and make my new hubby breakfast every morning.

Breakfast turned out to be harder than I thought. We have very different opinions on eggs. I like my scrambled, as an omelet, or over hard. Fully cooked is the most important part as I don’t really enjoy eggs, especially un-disguised eggs. Ian however, loves runny yokes with wheat toast to dip in them after he’s eaten the fried whites. I worked hard to perfect the runny yoked happiness of eggs and made them for him once a week in the breakfast rotation. When Charsia was born, I started slacking off on the breakfast thing even more than I had while I was pregnant, so he probably has fried eggs once, maybe twice a month now. You may be surprised at the ways I have accidently found to ruin the eggs, but at least eighty percent of the time he gets his happy eggs over easy with buttered wheat toast to dip in the yokes.

This morning I set his breakfast down for him at his desk where he’s already working. He looks at the food and then up at me and pauses. Then he says, “Hon….” He looks down at his breakfast of coffee, toast, yogurt and nearly perfect eggs (one of the yokes broke) again.

“What?” I ask cautiously. I can’t guess what he is about to say but I know when he pauses and makes that face, he is feeling awkward.

“Uh…” Another pause. “I uh, don’t really like fried eggs hon.”

I must be giving him a blank look.

“I mean thanks for making these for me but I really don’t like fried eggs.” He picks up part of the egg’s white and tugs at it a little for emphasis. “I mean, if I am going to eat fried eggs, this is the way I like them.” As if that was going to console me for the years of egg making.

“But I thought you liked eggs over easy! That’s why I work so hard to make them that way – SO YOU CAN DIP YOUR TOAST IN THE YOKES. Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I start to walk away then turn and come back to lean over the desk and start laughing (I think I am making him nervous with the laughter). “We’ve been married nearly five years and you are finally breaking this to me?”

It turns out he likes almost all variations of scrambled eggs (I know you were wondering). It wasn’t like he told me that his name wasn’t really Ian, or that his other wife makes the fried eggs better. I may have over reacted. Now that I don’t have to try so hard on the eggs any more, they don’t seem that bad… Maybe I will make them for him next week. I’m sure that they will turn out perfect now that they aren’t his favorite.

Titles I considered for this post:

You Think You Know a Person

Deviled Eggs

Devil's Eggs

Fried Eggs and Hon