Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Monday, November 9, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I'm not allowed to tell you this,
If I've agreed not to tell anyone something, does that indicate that I won't tell the specifics or I won't tell the story? I'm going to take, in this case, it to mean the specifics. So I won't tell you the specifics. (Do I ever? That seems like a good way to never get a job and maybe get sued).
I subbed today. Surprise, surprise. I woke up right when my alarm clock went off, feeling totally awake. I knew I had enough time to go back to sleep, and even though I was wide awake, I took advantage of the half hour. When I woke up, I didn't exactly have enough time to make lunch, so I threw these things in a bag: a container of cottage cheese, a raspberry yogurt, almond butter, jelly, a loaf of italian bread, and a muffin and a half. I don't have a ton of money. Ever. I got a statement about my taxable income from the past...8? years, and I don't quite understand why I don't qualify for food stamps. It's got to be well below the poverty level. Even I was surprised at how little I earned last year, subbing full time and all. So sometimes I'll splurge and get all the ingredients to make a very involved dinner, and sometimes I just eat a lot of beans or toast (but not beans on toast, though I hear that's a regular English snack [breakfast?]). When I arrive at the school I don't have time to put my lunch in the fridge, which is concerning because, as you'll recall, I packed dairy products. It was actually a few hours before I had a chance to do this. By this time, I had eaten the half a muffin. I went to the teachers lounge and put the cottage cheese, the yogurt, the jam and the almond butter in the fridge. I put the whole muffin in my bag, and left the loaf of bread (in its bag in a shopping bag) on the counter. Before I left I noticed a giant ziploc bag of Halloween candy on the counter. Sometimes people leave stuff for you to nibble on. I helped myself to one of the tiniest candy bars ever. The bag was mostly filled with malted milk balls, which I hate. I never understood why people would pay extra to ruin their milkshake like that, and I never got the appeal of the candy. There was one additional tiny candy bar in the bag, and I fought myself for a good thirty seconds before deciding to eat it. I've never been a big fan of finishing up things that aren't mine.
I had felt a little foolish making a point to put my lunch in the fridge at that time, as it would be hardly an hour before I'd be eating it, but oh well.
I went back to the teachers' lounge at lunchtime, and noticed the bag of candy gone. I didn't think anything of this, maybe whoever was sharing decided not to share anymore. I got out my yogurt and my cottage cheese and then realized something else was missing --- my loaf of bread. I've been eating a lot of bread since I bought this loaf. That is to say, I've probably consumed 6-8 pieces of toast, and somehow, the loaf is still larger than most of the smooshy square loaves you find. So, most of a loaf of bread, in its bag in a grocery store bag is no where to be found. I look in the fridge, poking each and every plastic bag contained within. None of them contain a loaf of bread. I look atop the fridge, on the table and counters and in every single one of the cabinets. I stop and think about the steps I'd taken just in case I'd left it somewhere else.
Nope. Definitely left it there.
I find a piece of paper. I write a note. I try to sound as non-accusatory as possible:
TO WHOEVER RELOCATED MY LOAF OF BREAD:
PLEASE RETURN IT OR LET ME KNOW WHERE YOU'VE PLACED IT. I'M SUBBING FOR [such and such a teacher].
EMILY (11/4)
I'M POOR AND HUNGRY, THEY DON'T PAY SUBS TOO WELL! :)
I told the other adult who was working in the room with me. This other adult was furious. This other adult lacks confidence in the trustworthiness of the rest of the faculty and staff. This other adult acknowledged that where I left my bread is commonly read as "up for grabs."
During an afternoon break, I took out a book. A member of the administration poked in the room, asking how my day was going.
"Pretty good, except that someone took my bread...." I really didn't want this to go unnoticed. I was already formulating my blog / facebook status / twitter post about it.
I was angry.
(Dear Thief at Such and such a school. Stealing a loaf of bread? Seriously? They have GOT to pay you more than me. If they don't, I suggest seeking employment elsewhere)
"I heard!!!" the member of the administration replied, voice containing sheer concern.
I described the specifics of the loaf. Italian. Sliced. From that bakery in that town (in case it was spotted).
Soon after, the other adult in the room with me returns, having somehow been filled in on the details of my missing loaf. It feels really pathetic at this point to make such a big deal out of a two dollar loaf of bread, but it wasn't just my lunch. It was my breakfast, lunch, dinner, on and on. It was the vehicle for all the condiments that make up 75% of the food contained within my refrigerator.
The other adult in the room is a fan of italian bread. This makes the crime more heinous. The other adult in the room presses a five dollar bill in my hand. I insist that this isn't neccessary, fight it, try to give it back. I finally give in , pocketing this bill. I tell TOAITR that the bread only costs $2, but TOAITR insists that I deserve two loaves. Soon, TOAITR and I run across the principal, who has also heard about the bread antics. The principal reaches into a pocket, saying "please let me buy you another loaf." I inform the principal that TOAITR has already done so, but no one really needed to do that, I just wanted to get my original loaf back. The principal apologizes profusely, and then asks that I please not tell anyone about this.
So I feel like maybe I'm cheating the principal, but maybe not including the story would cheat the subbing portion of my blog. And I'm going to assume that what the principal was concerned about was the story being linked to the (forever unnamed) school.
It's been a tired, cranky week.It's worse when there isn't food to be had. Going to bed hungry results in difficulties waking up.
Do you think I was getting paid back for eating those candy bars?
Do you think my house got egged because I refused to answer my door on Halloween even though I was clearly home? (I didn't have any candy! Or maybe I was egged because some kids hate me because I'm a sub and they know where I live? Or maybe I was egged by that guy in the Jeep because I honked at him?)
I subbed today. Surprise, surprise. I woke up right when my alarm clock went off, feeling totally awake. I knew I had enough time to go back to sleep, and even though I was wide awake, I took advantage of the half hour. When I woke up, I didn't exactly have enough time to make lunch, so I threw these things in a bag: a container of cottage cheese, a raspberry yogurt, almond butter, jelly, a loaf of italian bread, and a muffin and a half. I don't have a ton of money. Ever. I got a statement about my taxable income from the past...8? years, and I don't quite understand why I don't qualify for food stamps. It's got to be well below the poverty level. Even I was surprised at how little I earned last year, subbing full time and all. So sometimes I'll splurge and get all the ingredients to make a very involved dinner, and sometimes I just eat a lot of beans or toast (but not beans on toast, though I hear that's a regular English snack [breakfast?]). When I arrive at the school I don't have time to put my lunch in the fridge, which is concerning because, as you'll recall, I packed dairy products. It was actually a few hours before I had a chance to do this. By this time, I had eaten the half a muffin. I went to the teachers lounge and put the cottage cheese, the yogurt, the jam and the almond butter in the fridge. I put the whole muffin in my bag, and left the loaf of bread (in its bag in a shopping bag) on the counter. Before I left I noticed a giant ziploc bag of Halloween candy on the counter. Sometimes people leave stuff for you to nibble on. I helped myself to one of the tiniest candy bars ever. The bag was mostly filled with malted milk balls, which I hate. I never understood why people would pay extra to ruin their milkshake like that, and I never got the appeal of the candy. There was one additional tiny candy bar in the bag, and I fought myself for a good thirty seconds before deciding to eat it. I've never been a big fan of finishing up things that aren't mine.
I had felt a little foolish making a point to put my lunch in the fridge at that time, as it would be hardly an hour before I'd be eating it, but oh well.
I went back to the teachers' lounge at lunchtime, and noticed the bag of candy gone. I didn't think anything of this, maybe whoever was sharing decided not to share anymore. I got out my yogurt and my cottage cheese and then realized something else was missing --- my loaf of bread. I've been eating a lot of bread since I bought this loaf. That is to say, I've probably consumed 6-8 pieces of toast, and somehow, the loaf is still larger than most of the smooshy square loaves you find. So, most of a loaf of bread, in its bag in a grocery store bag is no where to be found. I look in the fridge, poking each and every plastic bag contained within. None of them contain a loaf of bread. I look atop the fridge, on the table and counters and in every single one of the cabinets. I stop and think about the steps I'd taken just in case I'd left it somewhere else.
Nope. Definitely left it there.
I find a piece of paper. I write a note. I try to sound as non-accusatory as possible:
TO WHOEVER RELOCATED MY LOAF OF BREAD:
PLEASE RETURN IT OR LET ME KNOW WHERE YOU'VE PLACED IT. I'M SUBBING FOR [such and such a teacher].
EMILY (11/4)
I'M POOR AND HUNGRY, THEY DON'T PAY SUBS TOO WELL! :)
I told the other adult who was working in the room with me. This other adult was furious. This other adult lacks confidence in the trustworthiness of the rest of the faculty and staff. This other adult acknowledged that where I left my bread is commonly read as "up for grabs."
During an afternoon break, I took out a book. A member of the administration poked in the room, asking how my day was going.
"Pretty good, except that someone took my bread...." I really didn't want this to go unnoticed. I was already formulating my blog / facebook status / twitter post about it.
I was angry.
(Dear Thief at Such and such a school. Stealing a loaf of bread? Seriously? They have GOT to pay you more than me. If they don't, I suggest seeking employment elsewhere)
"I heard!!!" the member of the administration replied, voice containing sheer concern.
I described the specifics of the loaf. Italian. Sliced. From that bakery in that town (in case it was spotted).
Soon after, the other adult in the room with me returns, having somehow been filled in on the details of my missing loaf. It feels really pathetic at this point to make such a big deal out of a two dollar loaf of bread, but it wasn't just my lunch. It was my breakfast, lunch, dinner, on and on. It was the vehicle for all the condiments that make up 75% of the food contained within my refrigerator.
The other adult in the room is a fan of italian bread. This makes the crime more heinous. The other adult in the room presses a five dollar bill in my hand. I insist that this isn't neccessary, fight it, try to give it back. I finally give in , pocketing this bill. I tell TOAITR that the bread only costs $2, but TOAITR insists that I deserve two loaves. Soon, TOAITR and I run across the principal, who has also heard about the bread antics. The principal reaches into a pocket, saying "please let me buy you another loaf." I inform the principal that TOAITR has already done so, but no one really needed to do that, I just wanted to get my original loaf back. The principal apologizes profusely, and then asks that I please not tell anyone about this.
So I feel like maybe I'm cheating the principal, but maybe not including the story would cheat the subbing portion of my blog. And I'm going to assume that what the principal was concerned about was the story being linked to the (forever unnamed) school.
It's been a tired, cranky week.It's worse when there isn't food to be had. Going to bed hungry results in difficulties waking up.
Do you think I was getting paid back for eating those candy bars?
Do you think my house got egged because I refused to answer my door on Halloween even though I was clearly home? (I didn't have any candy! Or maybe I was egged because some kids hate me because I'm a sub and they know where I live? Or maybe I was egged by that guy in the Jeep because I honked at him?)
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Cliché High
Today and yesterday I worked in the same school. Over the course of two days, three things happened that I thought only really happened in movies or books. I suppose clichés come from somewhere, but I honestly didn't think I would run into them.
1. There was a food fight in the cafeteria. I'm talking at least 150 kids involved. As I was walking down to the cafeteria to get some additional snacks, I saw some of the fallout - notoriously bad kids being escorted away by monitors, black hair smattered with white mashed potatoes or ranch dressing. Shirts splashed with juice. A disgusting mess.
2. There was an un-planned fire-drill (I don't know what to call this). This was not because there was a fire, or even because someone pulled the alarm. This was because a chemistry class made some smoke in an experiment that set off the alarms.
3. This was only rumored, I hope it never came to pass -- students were apparently armed with urine-balloons.
Seriously, is this Cliché High School?
1. There was a food fight in the cafeteria. I'm talking at least 150 kids involved. As I was walking down to the cafeteria to get some additional snacks, I saw some of the fallout - notoriously bad kids being escorted away by monitors, black hair smattered with white mashed potatoes or ranch dressing. Shirts splashed with juice. A disgusting mess.
2. There was an un-planned fire-drill (I don't know what to call this). This was not because there was a fire, or even because someone pulled the alarm. This was because a chemistry class made some smoke in an experiment that set off the alarms.
3. This was only rumored, I hope it never came to pass -- students were apparently armed with urine-balloons.
Seriously, is this Cliché High School?
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Black beans
Everyone should grow black beans. I bought some "New York Grown" maybe organic black beans from the bulk section of the Co-Op this spring, and stuck them in the ground. They just grow. they like to climb on things...they don't require much effort. Each bean produces many many more beans. It is a bean investment. I can save some of these beans and plant them next season. I can eat the rest.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Detroit
So, Detroit...I tried to find your good parts. I really did.
Maybe it doesn't help that I only spent a few hours in Detroit, and just wandered around by myself. Maybe.
Highlights:
Hamtramck:
Pierogies at the Old World Polish Cafe (or something like that)
Weird Record Shop / Thrift store / Screen printing place
Wig Shop
East Market:
Cheap Charlie's
Potential Michael Cera sighting?
Apparently they were filming a movie called "Irishmen."
I stopped, turned to somebody sitting near one of the movie tents. "Is that Michael Cera?"
He paused. He looked over his shoulder for a few seconds. He looked back and me for a few seconds. "No," he said flatly.
The guy at the counter at Cheap Charlie's asked me if I'd heard about the new bike trail. Apparently, they've just finished it. They're even going to pipe in music, apparently. There was a third attraction that he mentioned, but I can't recall it.
Also, the speed limit heading into Detroit is a frightening 75mph. Motor city, indeed.
Maybe it doesn't help that I only spent a few hours in Detroit, and just wandered around by myself. Maybe.
Highlights:
Hamtramck:
Pierogies at the Old World Polish Cafe (or something like that)
Weird Record Shop / Thrift store / Screen printing place
Wig Shop
East Market:
Cheap Charlie's
Potential Michael Cera sighting?
Apparently they were filming a movie called "Irishmen."
I stopped, turned to somebody sitting near one of the movie tents. "Is that Michael Cera?"
He paused. He looked over his shoulder for a few seconds. He looked back and me for a few seconds. "No," he said flatly.
The guy at the counter at Cheap Charlie's asked me if I'd heard about the new bike trail. Apparently, they've just finished it. They're even going to pipe in music, apparently. There was a third attraction that he mentioned, but I can't recall it.
Also, the speed limit heading into Detroit is a frightening 75mph. Motor city, indeed.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Happy St. Patrick's Day. Now give me 50 cents.
It is a beautiful day. I got out of work an hour early today, which was superb. I'm not really wearing green, though that is the requirement for getting your free cone at Stewart's. At least, that is what it always was for as long as I can remember, and I've lived in the Capital Region since I was little. When I asked for a cone, the cashier sort of looked at me funny, and then eyed me up and down, seeing if he could spot my green. I held out to him the translucent green circles hanging from long chains dangling from my ears. We had a brief discussion about how they were just barely green when he cuts me off--"you know that'll be fifty cents, right?"
"You're joking" I say.
This is not the first time today where someone asked me for a small portion of money for something that shouldn't cost anything. The security guard at the door of the school I subbed in told me he would let me back in (I had to go to my car), but for a dollar.
However, unlike the security guard, the man at Stewart's was not joking.
"Everywhere?" I ask.
He explains that because college students had exploited the free cone day last year, going from shop to shop, they now have to charge.
"But that's what you do." I replied, as I reluctantly handed him two quarters.
As he argued the value of this purchase I tried to explain to him that I don't really like ice cream, and that now I might not be able to afford beans. At this point he was no longer listening. Perhaps he thought I was joking.
Schenectady Gazette Article featuring Duto.
Pre-Duto Lark Street Free Cone Day:
"You're joking" I say.
This is not the first time today where someone asked me for a small portion of money for something that shouldn't cost anything. The security guard at the door of the school I subbed in told me he would let me back in (I had to go to my car), but for a dollar.
However, unlike the security guard, the man at Stewart's was not joking.
"Everywhere?" I ask.
He explains that because college students had exploited the free cone day last year, going from shop to shop, they now have to charge.
"But that's what you do." I replied, as I reluctantly handed him two quarters.
As he argued the value of this purchase I tried to explain to him that I don't really like ice cream, and that now I might not be able to afford beans. At this point he was no longer listening. Perhaps he thought I was joking.
Schenectady Gazette Article featuring Duto.
Pre-Duto Lark Street Free Cone Day:
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