Merry Day After Christmas! It is also the start of Kwanza, Matt tells me. Anyhow, it is a return to sanity around here.

It was so weird that yesterday was Christmas. It didn't feel like Christmas at all. It was the busiest day we've had, and I barely had time to think about it. I opened my Christmas packages, and they had stockings for us in the staff room and everyone said Merry Christmas, but I couldn't wrap my mind around it. But it wasn't a bad day, just a normal one.

Ever since I came here people have been telling me that the busiest time is now until New Years, and later in January we'll be standing around twiddling our thumbs. Right now that sounds like heaven. I'm exhausted in every way. The last time my body felt this beat up, I had just backpacked for 13 miles in one day. For the past couple days, at least one of the servers has had at least one emotional breakdown and tears at least once a day. Between high-maintenance guests, the chef being sick and on edge, and Bekah being stretched too thin and stressed out with everything, and the personal struggles of learning a new job with tons of detail, being away from family during the holidays, and being so tired, we are all pretty on edge. I am pretty much living on Advil. My favorite place is the walk-in refrigerator--you can let a few tears out when you go in for something, wipe your eyes and go back out with your item after letting off a little steam.

I feel like I'm at such an odd place in my life. I've never been around this many people that I like and still felt lonely. I know I just need to give it time for deep relationships to form, and there are a lot of people I want to form deep relationships with, but we are just not there yet. I haven't really felt like myself since coming here, and that bothers me.

It is funny because I am 24 and my roommate Charissa is 25, and our other roommate Teresa is 22, and she is kind of like our mom. Charissa and I are pretty emotional and can be all over the charts, and Teresa is just laid-back and assuring and takes care of us, like doing jobs for us and remembering things we need when she goes into town.

So I realize my blog has been pretty whiny as of late. It is just a good place to vent, besides the walk-in fridge. I love reading all of your blogs and keeping up on your lives. I miss you guys!

Melodic Monday

This is one of my all-time favorite Christmas carols. It was also part of our yearly advent time. I think the lyrics are really meaningful. I've bolded the parts that really stand out to me.

O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight

For Christ is born of Mary,
And gathered all above,
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wond'ring loved
O morning stars together
proclaim the holy birth
And praises sing to God the King
And peace to men on earth

How silently, how silently
the wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven
No ear may hear His coming
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him
Still the dear Christ enters in

O holy Child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray
Cast out our sin and enter in
Be born in us today
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell
Oh, come to us, abide with us
Our Lord Emmanuel!

Quirks of the Rich and Famous

So there's not actually anyone famous staying here (unless you count Matt for his Slap-Your-Mama-in-the-Face-This-Dessert-Rocks Dessert), but I thought I would take a moment to share some of the quirks of our very rich guests--some of them wonderful people, some of them...not.

-Guest: "Are you going to build a fire?"
-Me: "We don't build a fire until dinner because the room gets really hot and smoky."
-Guest: "Really? We really like the fire."
-Me: "I'm sorry, we don't light it until dinner."
-Guest: "I like to dry my daughter's mittens by it. We really like it when there's a fire."
-Me: "We'll light it at dinner."
- Guest: "It's just that we really like it when there's a fire."
-Me: (walks away to prevent verbal torrent from pouring out)

-Guest: (carries coffee cup up to the espresso station) "There's coffee grounds in my latte."
- Me: "I'm so sorry. Let me make you another one."
- Guest: "Do you have a tamper?" (butts behind espresso station and makes own latte)

-Guest: "Is there nuts in this chicken salad?"
-Me: "Yes."
-Guest: (icily condescending): "Maybe there doesn't need to be tree nuts in every single item."

-Me: "Can I take your order?"
-Guest: "Yes, I don't want anything on the menu. Can you get me a BLT?"
-Me: (after checking with chefs) "Sure, we can do that."
- Guest: (5 min later) "Can you make sure that's on wheat bread?" (5 min later) "Can I have Miracle Whip instead of mayonnaise? (5 min later) "Can I get that toasted?"

-Guest: (arrives at 6 a.m. to work on Christmas cards in the dining room while we're setting up for breakfast) "Can I get some coffee? Can I go through the buffet line yet? Will you take my daughter's breakfast order? Can I change my daughter's breakfast order?"
-Servers: (repeatedly): "We'll start serving at 7:30."

My personal favorite is when we take a majorly specialized order and when we clear their plate, they've barely touched it. Some of these things make me want to tear my hair out when they happen, but we always laugh about them the next day. Plus, dessert tonight was pumpkin swirl cheesecake with rum chocolate sauce and cinnamon whipped cream. Kind of makes all such problems just melt away.

I got an e-mail from my mom today that my grandpa is back in the hospital. He dropped his razor, and when he bent over to pick it up, he tore his rotator cuff. While he was there he caught some kind of flu bug and they have him hooked up to an IV and oxygen. When my uncle asked him what the oxygen was for, he was surprised to find out that he was on oxygen. He has been confused and disoriented since checking in, which is not normal for him. He's been in and out of hospitals so much that it's almost like, "Oh, Grandpa's in the hospital again," but at the same time all his health problems seem to be compounding, and I know he won't live forever. His 90th birthday is on Christmas day, and there is a big party planned where all my dad's side is getting together. I knew I would miss that when I came out here, and I knew the last time I visited him would probably be the last time I saw him. But I just hate that I can't be with my family right now. I hate that I don't have any deep friendships here, and while everyone is really nice, there's no one I can spill my guts to and cry my eyes out with. People who know feel bad, but no one knows me well enough to really care. I just feel really alone and helpless. It's not like there's anything I could do if I were there, either. I just want to be there.

Not the Best Day

Today was my first full day of serving real guests. It was not terrible, there were just a lot of little things that built up. Rob and the kitchen guys kept picking on me for being quiet. Yeah, people, I don't talk unnecessarily and I have a soft voice. I get it. I've been this way for 24 years and I don't think there's anything wrong with it. Just because our culture says to be loud, self-sure and forward, and I'm not, doesn't mean I'm an abnormal human being. I'm quiet and I LIKE it.

Some of the guests are far more high-maintenance than others. We were talking about the subtle differences between the ones who are kind and grateful for your service, and the ones who are like, "I'm here to be served--serve me." We are here to serve them, and it's our job, but I do appreciate being treated like a human being rather than a food-fetching robot. It just comes with the territory. Plus, the people here are filthy rich and are used to having whatever they want without having to think about it.

I've had a sore throat and other cold symptoms starting today. During our afternoon break I went home and fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up I had just enough time to jump in the shower before heading down for dinner. Unfortunatley, Teresa came back from working out while I was in the shower and I didn't give her a chance to jump in. She was really nice about it, but I felt bad.

I am still far from having the details of this job down cold. There are so many things to remember, and I have yet to remember all of them. Tonight I mixed up order and seat numbers (funny story, though: I was trying to explain my jumbled tickets to Teresa, and I said, "The eggplant goes to the attractive man at table 5," and everyone in the back heard me), started taking dessert orders before we cleared the entree, and asked Bekah a million questions. Bekah is stretched way too thin right now, trying to start the season, train us and also decorate one of the cabins by herself. After dinner, I had accidentally put the white linen table cloths in with the other linens, and she said, "These go in the ORANGE bag" and started stuffing them in the orange bag very forcefully. We were both almost in tears from stress.

Tom just figured out that my name is Kelsey and not Chelsea. He said he's never known anyone named Kelsey before and asked, "Is that your real name? On your birth certificate? It's not a nickname or something?" For cryin' out loud, buddy, Kelsey is not THAT weird!

One of the younger kitchen guys was hanging out in our place today, and he started asking me what I do for fun, don't I party, why don't I like movies with lots of cursing and violence, and acting like I was the lamest person in the world. Forgive me for being more mature than you, 20-year-old male. Please at least respect my beliefs and don't make me out to be a holier-than-thou stick-in-the-mud.

I am trying to view this through the lens of my recent "breathing fresh air" experience. I've decided it's important not to deny my feelings about days like this, but it's also important to move on once I've acknowledged them and had a good cry, and not dwell on them and let them consume me. I have been thinking a lot about this prayer of St. Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

I want my life at the ranch to be that lived out. No matter how bad my days are or how much I get razzed for being a Christian (actually a pretty new experience for me, since I've kind of spent my life in a Christian bubble), I want to be focused more on giving to others than receiving anything from them.

It's ridiculously late and I've got to go to bed. Good night!

Freedom

The Israelites are stubborn, like a stubborn heifer. How then can the Lord pasture them like lambs in a meadow? - Hosea 4:16

Another day of serious soul-searching. This time it was triggered by Jonell's comment on my last post, when she said she was staying amused by my posts. That challenged my perspective. The last thing I was finding all of this was amusing, and it really made me think. I used to laugh at my mistakes all the time. The stories about barking "Dang it!" at Dace and serving Rusty first when I had just said "Ladies are always first" would have been material for a good laugh five minutes later, at the most. Instead, I lay awake and agonized over it when I went to bed.

Here are a few sentences from my journal. For reference, Steve was talking to us about Christmas day said it could be a lot of fun even though we're away from our families if we "just pull our heads out of our backsides." Steve is awesome.

"How did I get tot his perfectionist point? That's not really who I am. I used to be able to laugh at myself. I am taking myself way too seriously. All of Vista Verde's reputation is going to be in jeopardy because I popped the cork on a wine bottle? Who do I think I am? If I'm so focused on myself I won't be able to focus on giving the guests a good time. I need to pull my head out of my backside!"

So, I think it's out. It can seem awfully warm and safe and comfortable in there. But for God's sake, I need to breathe fresh air.

"Cursed is the one who trusts in man; who depends on flesh for his strength and whose heart turns away from the Lord. He will be like a bush in the wastelands; he will not see prosperity when it comes. He will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives. But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord; whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has not worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." - Jeremiah 17:5-8

A Hard Day's Night

...I should be sleepin' like a log! So, today was our first day of mock meals, designed to help train us before we started serving guests. It was INSANE. At breakfast, Dace asked me to explain the menu to him. It was the first order I had tried to take, and I said right out loud, "Oh, DANG IT!" Not the most professional response. Then, at lunch, I couldn't seem to tell my right hand from my left--hence, me serving people from the wrong side. This was me during wine service at dinner: "Two wines tonight--chardonnay and pinot noir. Serve from the right side with the right hand. Why won't this stupid knife cut through the foil? Dang it, I made the cork pop! OH SHOOT I just spilled water all over the beautiful white linen cloth!"

While we were folding napkins for the dinner, Bekah made an interesting comment: "I like that all of you are perfectionists." That threw me for a loop. I have never considered myself to be a perfectionist by any stretch of the imagination. I've always been a big "good enough is good enough" person. But in the past few months, I have definitely been acting like a perfectionist. I stew over every tiny detail and beat myself up if I make a mistake. I can definitely trace the roots, but I didn't realize it had reached a point where I could be called a perfectionist.

I still don't think I am one. A perfectionist likes perfection for its own sake--order, symmetry, and meticulous attention to detail warm the cockles of their little anal hearts. That is definitely not me. I also don't think it's a pride issue--I know that I make mistakes and don't (usually) view myself through the grid of them. I'm perfectly aware that I'm fallible and don't expect myself to be otherwise. During some serious soul-searching while ladling out the lunch lemonade (I just have to be an English dork and point out all the alliteration in this sentence), I decided that what kills me is what other people will think of me, or more accurately, what I think other people will think of me. I'm afraid that they will view me through the grid of my mistakes. Also, I hate that my actions as a server are also a reflection on Bekah, the kitchen guys and Vista Verde as a whole. What if they view all those things throught the grid of my mistakes? I guess I assume that my mistakes make up a grid that someone will pick up and look through to see me. I find it hard to believe that someone would see the grid and leave it lying there and look at me through the grid of grace and love. Weird thoughts, but they help me process.

So, I would just like to make the disclaimer that this is in no way intended to be a sob story or "Woe is me." It just helps me process my thoughts to write them out, and y'all usually have some good feedback, so I do it on blogspot.

Moving on...dinner tonight was TREMENDOUS. Crab cakes, your choice of strawberry snapper served on a bed of risotto with sauce Provence or filet mignon served over bleu cheese whipped potatoes with blistered asparagus tips, and for dessert: Matt's Slap-Your-Mama-in-the-Face-This-Dessert-Rocks Fried Banana Bread with homemade vanilla bean ice cream and a rum-caramel sauce (Rob actually printed the menu that way). All I can say is that it deserves its whopper of a name, because I don't think there are enough words that mean "good" to describe it. It was seriously one of the best things I've ever tasted. Ever.

Ok. And now...for Melodic Monday, a song that my family used to sing every year as part of our advent wreath time. It's not one of the better-known Christmas carols, but it's one of my favorites.

Thous didst leave Thy throne and Thy kingly crown
When Thou camest to earth for me
But in Bethlehem's home was there found no room
For Thy holy nativity
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

Heaven's arches rang when the angels sang
Proclaiming Thy royal decree
But in lowly birth didst Thou come to earth
And in great humility
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

The foxes found rest and the birds their nest
In the shade of the forest tree
But Thy couch was the sod, O Thou Son of God
In the deserts of Galilee
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

Thou camest, O Lord, as the Living Word
That would set Thy people free
But with mocking scorn and with crown of thorn
They bore thee to Calvary
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

When heaven's arches shall ring and the angels sing
At Thy coming to victory
Let Thy voice call me home, saying, "Yet there is room!
There is room at my side for thee!"
And my heart shall rejoice, Lord Jesus,
When Thou comest and callest for me!