December 31, 2009

New Year’s Eve, Past and Present

My husband and I don’t go out on New Years Eve. Not since we had kids, I mean. He says it’s “a night for amateurs.” Also, all the crazies crawl out of the woodwork on NYE.

When my father was still in the bar business, he had a New Year’s Eve party every year. He bought a few cases of champagne and made sloppy joes and appetizers for his customers. He gave his regular bartenders the night off, and Doug and I would work the party so that everyone could have a good time.

Every year, people that did not regularly patronize our establishment crashed the party for the free food and champagne. One couple in particular comes to mind. I can’t remember their names, but we called them “The Toothless Wonders” because both husband and wife were missing several front teeth. Doug would joke that they must have gotten into a drunken brawl one night and knocked each other’s teeth out.

The NYE party was not the first time I had to wait on these people. In college I was a waitress at South Point, my aunt Kelly’s 24-hour diner, and this couple would come in for a cup of coffee and stay all night because we offered free refills. They never ordered anything else. They never left a tip. The Toothless Wonders were the epitome of freeloading.

On New Year’s Eve in 2003, the TWs came in right before the party was scheduled to begin. I think the man’s name might have been Dennis, and her name still evades me, but for the sake of this blog entry, we’ll call her Wanda. They secured two bar stools closest to the food table, and Dennis slammed a wad of singles on the bar. Wanda ordered two tappers of Miller and lit a Basic, full flavor cigarette.

“What’s on the menu tonight,” she asked. “Sandwiches or somethin’?”

“Barbecues,” I told her. “And there will be taco trays and cheese and sausage, too.”

“We didn’t eat all day for this,” Dennis told me.

I remember laughing to myself. I’m imagined they starved themselves all day just to make sure they’d get their fill that night. The couple was never dressed very nice. They seemed to wear the same clothes all the time. Dirty jeans, worn out shirts and sweaters, and worker’s boots, despite the fact that neither worked. They lived off SSI and food stamps, and I think Dennis was receiving disability, too.

They were usually very polite, that is until they had a couple beers and began shouting and rudely bumping into other customers on the way to the bathrooms. I didn’t dislike these people, I just found them to be kind of creepy.

On this particular night they were strangely quiet. Mostly because they were constantly refilling their plates and slamming Millers like shots of whiskey. Speaking of whiskey, Dennis decided after the midnight countdown he would like two shots of Kessler. I poured the shots and rang $5.50 into the register.

“Five-fifty!” He yelled. “I’ve been robbed!”‘

I worked throughout the night, tending bar, refilling the food trays and making sure everyone was having a good time. As I was emptying ashtrays into the garbage can, I turned around to see Dennis and Wanda making out by the jukebox. I nearly puked. Customers began to notice it, too. Everyone was uncomfortable with the PDA. I didn’t want to be the one to break up their intimate moment, so I made Doug go over to them. I don’t remember what he said, but The Toothless Wonders stopped sucking face and sat back down.

The rest of the night was uneventful, save for the local lush falling asleep at the bar. This, I could handle.

“Joe! No sleeping on my bar. I don’t drink in your bed!” I hollered.

“Well, ya could if ya wanted to,” Joe slurred.

New Year’s Eve is definitely a crazy night I’m sort of glad I’m too tired to party all night. It’s amazing what becoming a parent does to your social life.

This New Year’s Eve is a quiet one. Dawson and I watched a few episodes of Spongebob. Owen fell asleep in my arms. Doug is listening to old Bob & Tom shows on the radio. Maybe I’ll switch over to ABC for the ball drop in New York City. If I’m awake at midnight, I mean.

Happy New Year! May 2010 bring you much luck, love and happiness!

May 26, 2009

A Graduation Ceremony, Memorial Day & Look! I’m Having a Baby!*

My weekend was full of cleaning, relaxing, freaking out, family stuff and other miscellaneous things I’ve forgotten.  Because words are escaping me right now, I’m going to show you some pictures.  I hope that’s okay with you.  (If not, too bad, because that’s all I’ve got right now.)

My youngest brother, Frankie (the baby of the family), pre-Graduation.

Arriving at the SPASH Fieldhouse two hours early, to get a good seat.  We still had to sit towards the back.

Ms. Colby, my high school journalism teacher.  She still looks as young as she did 12 years ago when I graduated.

Dawson hugs my father while we wait for the ceremony to start.

Kathy Kinney (Mimi Bobeck of the Drew Carey Show), Stevens Point native.  She was the keynote speaker for my graduation ceremony in 1997 also.  She gave a magnificent speech about being a good person and that if we all pay it forward, the world would be a better place.

Kathy, during her speech.  This was as close as I could get — and I was using the mega zoom lens on my Rebel.

My brother, accepting his diploma and customary handshake.

573 Graduating Seniors (of high school, seriously.  My class had 650 graduates out of 689 seniors), and nearly 3,000 family and friends pack the fieldhouse.

The Graduate.  (No, not that one.)

My parents, brother Frank and Dawson. (No, I have no idea what the boys are looking at.  Certainly isn’t the camera.)

“Mom, I’m 4 1/2, right?”

Ant Catching on Memorial Day.

Memorial Day Picnic in the Back Yard.

Post Picnic Bike Ride.

Lilacs from the Back Yard.

My Little Acrobat.  Today’s ultrasound reveals I will be giving birth to the next Shawn Johnson. The baby was standing on his or her little head, legs dangling in the air, facing in the opposite direction of the tech’s wand. I will have to go back for another U/S because the poor technician couldn’t get more than half of the required cross-section photos she needed. So there’s hope that I’ll find out in the next six weeks!

Profile.  Looks just like Dawson.  Seriously.  I thought I might be having a girl, but now I think it might be a boy.  Also, today’s heartbeat was 138.  Three prior heartbeats were 165, 156 and 148.  So, that old wive’s tale is no help at all.

For more photos, visit my Flickr sets!

* And not an alien, as my husband likes to joke…

April 7, 2009

Tortured

On Sunday we went to our church to have breakfast with the Easter Bunny.  It’s an event that St. Bronislava’s puts on every year and we’ve attended for the last 3 years or so.

Dawson has always been afraid of holiday costumes.  Santa terrified him until last year when he realized it’s just a guy in a suit.  But the Easter Bunny freaks him out.  (Actually, any costume worn by an adult in which Dawson cannot see the person’s face is horrifying to him.)

After we had our pancakes and sausage we stood in line to see the Hoppity Hop, and Dawson started clinging to my leg.  When it was our turn he screamed as though he was being murdered.  The crying ensued and he was gripped so tightly to my shirt that I started to laugh nervously.

Other parents watching this spectacle began to laugh or maybe they were pitying me.

I honestly didn’t believe Dawson would carry on this way.  I figured he’d outgrown his fear, now that he’s the ripe age of 4 1/2.

Boy was I wrong.  Grandma and Auntie Rachel tried to persuade him that it was just a girl in a Halloween costume.  Dawson didn’t buy it.

I told him he shouldn’t be scared, because he is going to be a big brother soon.  He looked at me and said, “I don’t like the bunny and I’m not a big brother yet, so I’m not going over there.”

I should have just let it go, but I wanted the annual photo for the scrapbook, and I was determined to get it.

The photographer snapped the photo of my son, red-faced and crying, clutching to me.  I’m just waiting for my copy to arrive and I’ll post it here.  I’m such a mean mom, forcing my kid to visit the Easter Bunny.

In the meantime, here’s a photo of Auntie Rachel and Grandma with The Scary Bunny:

Notice Dawson is clinging tightly to Rachel’s shirt.

I think I’ve scarred him for life.

January 4, 2009

Dana + Dinner + Drinks + Partying All Night = Really Bad Hangover

Last night Doug and I went to a holiday party at the Red Mill restaurant.  We had a fabulous time.

Dinner was delicious.  We both had the ribeye steak and potato puffs, and I had chicken dumpling soup while he had the tossed salad.  Then we had cheesecake for dessert, too.  I had several cocktails — before, during and after dinner.  One too many cocktails.

(Speaking of the desserts, the waitress told us if we didn’t like cheesecake we could order an ice cream drink instead.  So then I said, “Oh!  Do you have the cricket one?”  And she replied without missing a beat, “No, but we do have the Grasshopper.”  That was totally what I meant.  Cricket, grasshopper — same family, right?)

I started out drinking a glass of Coca-Cola.  Then I decided since I drink maybe once a year I was going to enjoy myself and have a screwdriver.  After two of those, I switched to Malibu and OJ because the vodka was tasting funny.  That could possibly be because I was getting sloshed.

Doug had two Budweisers and then promptly stopped drinking so that he could drive us home, but the friends who hosted the dinner invited us to their house for a glass of wine, or coffee and to hang out.  Because we like these friends, Doug and I agreed.

When we got there, I decided to have soda so that I could sober up.  I thought that I could avoid a hangover that way.  It didn’t work.

While at the after party, Doug got to try a wheat beer that our friend E. offered him.  It was a German beer (I only know this because it had Weisse in the name) and let’s just say it was probably made of river water and rotten cheese because the toxic gas emissions these men were giving off could have killed a village.

We were just getting ready to leave (because my brother was babysitting and we didn’t want him to drive home too late) when S. got me involved in a game of Catch Phrase.  Oh my gosh is that way too much fun.  Imagine six drunk people trying to play a hilarious game, similar to the game Taboo.  Much laughter and cursing were shared.  I had the best time so I promptly purchased the game from Amazon.com today.

Right after I drank three huge glasses of water and swallowed an Excedrin.

Oh the headache.

Now were going to have lunch at the Tempura House.  Nothing cures a hangover like salty Chinese food!