Philly Trip

No way should I be writing this right now. I have homework like I can only imagine. But it's going on a week,and my dear little bloggie has no idea about actual life events! Just snippets of thoughts, and, let's be honest, that's nothing to chew on!

Last Wednesday, Daniel, Todd, Wayne and I headed to the train station to catch the 9:30 train to 30th Street Station. Todd brought biscotti. Todd wins.

Daniel gave a brief (and enlightening, as always, Dan, (no sarcasm here, I promise!)) music-genre study on our ride. Shortly thereafter I fell asleep. I dreamed of homework. Then we were in Philly! Todd brought a map. Another win for Todd.

The day was beautiful and breezy. We walked in the historical district on our way to find cheesesteaks (one word, Google, don't you give me that red underline!) in South Street. Gianna's Grill is a hole-in-the-wall spot known for its vegan cheese steaks. Daniel's opinion: vegetarians should stick to creating their own menu instead of imitating meat--nasty.

Later, the Franklin Institute, where they are featuring Body Worlds 2. That was crazy weird. Real bodies, preserved through plastination. Instead of calling them people, the placards called them "plastinates." It was interesting to me in a morbid way. I was pretty disturbed when we got to the fetuses. The human body is miraculous, certainly. I saw an eight-week old embryo already identifiable as a human, but the size of a dime. Dude. But those little humans did not sign up to be put on display in the Franklin Institute.

We walked through the heart. I saw a brain shriveled by Alzheimer's disease. We played with airflow and inertia and camera angles and got hungry again.

Dinner was Reading Terminal Market, formerly the inner city train station before 30th Street was built. I ate sushi which I thought to be fish-free until I found an auspicious tentacle in the maki roll that fell apart. Also, Bassett's ice cream is everything Bill said it would be.

Back to the Franklin Institute for the IMAX showing of Avatar. We had to switch seats to keep everyone from straining their necks and/or throwing up. The screen fills one's field of vision to the point of certain nausea. Avatar is a wonderful movie, a powerful message about the environment, imperialism, selfishness, [loss of] culture... go see it.

Then the late train back to Lancaster. I slept again. This time I dreamed of Avatar.

A Deli Christmas

First things first: this is finals week, and the week before Christmas, and there is a lot to do. But at work, there is not a lot to do. By what evidence, you ask? Wayne was inspired by the muses this afternoon and rewrote the Twelve Days of Christmas for me, complete with props, it was beautiful.

an old moldy wedge of brie cheese
two chicken breasts
three french fries
four thawing burgers
five onion rings!
six geese have laid these [eggs]
seven olives swimming
eight pints of milk [that's one gallon, to the layman]
nine honey mustards
ten leaves of lettuce
eleven peppers pepping
twelve hashbrowns browning

Also today, Bill got locked inside the ladies' room for over ten minutes. He always uses the ladies' room, see. And the lock had been finicky for months. But, o fates!, the door has always managed to open in the past, despite great difficulties that the poor customers suffer. He called Leonardo, the prep guy, from his cell phone. Leonardo, doubtless, recognized on the caller ID that it was Bill calling. But he is kind of vindictive. So he let it ring. Finally Gary came to the rescue and opened the door. Bill then posted a sign that read something like: You may enter, but good luck getting out, the lock is broken.

A Deli Tale: John O'Hurley

Bill was not at work on Saturday. He and his family took a one or two night vacation in Philly. He still called the deli a few times to check up on everything. Around eight on Saturday night, the following conversation took place, to the best of my memory:

Me: Campus Deli, how can I help you?
Bill: Carolyn? Hey, it's Bill. How are things goin'?
Me: Pretty normal.
Bill: Good. Hey, do you ever watch Seinfeld?
Me: Yeah. I used to watch it all the time.
Bill: What was the name of Elaine's boss? The gray-haired guy.
Me: Do you mean his real-life name? Or his character name?
Bill: Either.
Me: ooh, Bill. I really couldn't tell ya. Hey Wayne, Todd, did you guys ever watch Seinfeld? [Wayne and Todd being my co-workers, and who had not seen an episode in recent history]
Bill: Peterman! ...Peterman! J. Peterman, right?
Me: Yes! I think that is right. Nice job. But what was his real name?
Bill: Jacobo, wasn't it? Something like that. [The actor's name is John O'Hurley.]
Me: Why did you ask, exactly?
Bill: We're at a restaurant in this hotel, and he just walked by! Oh man. Oh man! I hope I can get a picture with him and the girls! [Here, Bill asks the waitress if that was the guy from Seinfeld, and if he was a nice customer]
Me: So, is he a nice guy?
Bill: What? Oh, yeah. [Did he forget I was on the phone?] She said he's, like, a really nice guy. I think I'll go ask him if we can get a picture! He's really a handsome man.
Me: Yes. He is a handsome man.

Settle Down

I may have been a bit hasty about my family size. Twelve does sound excessive, even if God doesn't see a person as excess. At work tonight, my boss made an interesting comment: a couple can have as many children as they like, provided they have a big enough family already to help raise the children. He was talking about extended family, and how we need each other. It surprised me, because he often gets comments about how four children is an abnormally large number. I'm glad to hear he disagrees.

Last Names

Gary, a coworker at the deli, and I often talk about his obsession with baseball. He declares he would marry baseball, if only it were legal, or even possible. Today we were talking about women taking their husbands' last names. I proclaimed my unwillingness to completely retire my last name. I would rather hyphenate or simply have two last names. He firmly believes that it is the wife's responsibility to take on her husband's last name, since, "she belongs to him!"
"And who does he belong to?" I asked. "To baseball," he responded.

Around this time, two of my friends entered, bringing some sanity to the conversation. I asked their opinion on the subject. Carrie said that she intends to take her husband's last name, and gladly, because it is "a special way to honor him." Becky thought something similar, describing a relationship in which it only made sense that a woman would abandon her last name and willingly give her husband the honor of having her be called by his name. That was a nice way to put it.

"It is what it is"

What does that really mean? Nothing. It's an excuse to stop talking to me. An excuse to stop thinking about what's right and what's wrong. When all the while, the reality is that it can be what you make it. But no one has ever told you that. No one has ever told you that you are capable of good. Or maybe you just never listened. I wish you'd listen now.

A Deli Tale: Birthday Candles

Tonight a group of high school students were studying for an IB exam for a few hours at the deli. Their teacher dismissed them to get food and come back after an hour of study, at which point I was bombarded with "zillions" of orders for french fries and brownies. One boy was especially excited about receiving the brownie, "Do you have any birthday candles back there?"
"Birthday--no. No, we don't have candles at all."
"What about a match?"
"Hey guys, do we have any matches?" I asked the cooks, who only gave me puzzled looks and a tentative "no?".
"Sorry, no matches either."
"What about a stick?" he asked, clearly desperate now. I thought about our assortment of utensils and brought out the party toothpicks.
"Do you want the red top or the blue top?"
"Red," he responded, "it looks more like a flame."
"Well anyone would be honored to have such a birthday brownie, I'm sure."

A Deli Tale: Steelers and Iron

Ferguson is the greatest living Steelers fan. He is also the drunkest living Steelers fan. He comes in most Friday nights, drunk, to order a cheesesteak. But he does not order just any cheesesteak. It is a "Steelers'cheesesteak!" He usually calls out "Go STEELERS!" several times after entering the deli. And the cooks in the back respond with a jovial, "Yeah!" "Steelers!!" or "That Roethlisberger!" When calling out his order, my coworkers have compelled me to call, "one Steelers' cheesesteak for here!" If one does not specify, he will not respond, or so I'm told.

Now, Andy and Cody come in at any time of the day or night to simply annoy us. They are my neighbors and my boss has made various deals with them which sort of exchange work with indefinite amounts of food. In keeping with this, they consider themselves borderline employees and take extra liberties as such. They make a racket while waiting for food, talk with customers with whom they are not acquainted, sell items from their school fundraisers, and generally disregard all of our censures when not given in an iron tone.

One night, Andy and Cody were waiting for their order of cheese fries. After twice telling them to keep away from the cash register, and step back from the ordering line, I was ready for more drastic measures. It so happened that Ferguson was preparing to order when I found Cody and Andy smugly angling near the register. That was it, the iron entered my voice, and I sternly called them out, "boys! If you continue to disobey my instructions I will call security! You are in a public place and you need to act like it!" They stepped back.

I looked back at Ferguson, ready to take his order, with an apologetic half-smile. He looked down, his scruffy beard wrinkling over his double chin. His bloodshot eyes looked a little shocked as he quietly ordered "just a cheesesteak." That was all. He did not yell toward the kitchen, he simply took his seat quietly, waiting for me to call out his order, at full attention.

I think Ferguson mistook my iron tone for scolding him instead of the boys, of whom he may or may not have taken notice. He has always been more subdued with me since then, though his jolly manner was greatly helped by the Superbowl results. In fact, he stopped ordering cheesesteaks after their victory, and has ordered grilled chicken sandwiches, to the great heartbreak of the cooks.

Educatin' and Mackin'

I have begun my field experience through my education class. I get to spend time in a REAL middle school in Lancaster, with REAL teachers and REAL students. The thing is, I'm paired with the school librarian. She is a wonderful person, truly. But her time with students does not overlap much when I am there. Also, I do not want to be a librarian. Not at all. I dig the Dewey decimal system and all. I dig books. But I have never been on good terms with large-scale research or large amounts of paperwork. Not surprisingly, Research + Paperwork = Being a Librarian.

This experience taught me a few things already, though. Teaching does not solely involve students. It comes with other teachers, too. And teachers all have opinions. All of 'em.

In other news, last night I was preparing to close around 8:30 at the deli. A guy came in who had called in his order, which was not ready at the time he paid. Assuming Gary would bring out the completed order when it was finished, I resumed sweeping in the dining room. Soon, the customer and I struck up a conversation. We talked for several minutes, 'til I had finished sweeping the entire room... Still no food. I thought maybe it was time to check on it. The order had been ready since (Gary claims) "just after the guy arrived." Mortified, I handed the guy his order with a smile, "it just came up!" ...Gary was sure that I would have checked for the order already, so he had assumed I was just "mackin', looking for a Valentine's date." No. No I was not.