POS

You may have noticed I am blogging about Blondie’s new wine bar endeavor.  After a couple of taxing months, isn’t it good we can [nervously] laugh about it?  Or I should more accurately say…. isn’t it good my carefully negotiated blogger’s agreement allows us to laugh about certain things that shall not include the staff, customers, or menu. 

Which brings us to the point-of-sale (i.e., cash register) system at the bar.  If you’re in the trade, you call this the “POS system”.  [If you’re the designated bookkeeper you call it “the important part”.]  Blondie’s POS system is an app for the iPad!  How cool is that!  It’s so cool.....my iPad disappeared [just when I was getting good at Boggle].  The servers just have to be sure they’re ringing up real customers and not the ones on my Farmville game. 

But the greatest part of this POS system is it’s on the web.  So those of us keeping score at home can….well….keep score at home.  Log in any time of the day or evening and see exactly how many tickets are open and who is ordering what and how much she can afford to pay the bookkeeper.  But Blondie thinks this interest is like spying on her.  Silly girl – accessing the footage from the shop cameras is spying on her, the cash register stuff just lets me stay involved, which allows me to help in a number of ways: 

• I can correct her whenever she gets a key statistic wrong.  “No – I think it was five bottles of the barbarella that you sold, not four.  By the way, what IS a barberella?” 
• I can offer helpful hints:  “I’m surprised you didn’t suggest a glass of the mongrano to table 32 since they liked the vilosell so much” [she REALLY likes it when I also make wine recommendations – armchair sommelier] 
• She’s not the only one who gets to know the customers:  “Was that Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton at table 14?  Nice champagne – what were they celebrating? “
• And I can keep an eye on things.  “That table of 1 sure drank a lot of wine with dinner.”  [Oh  yeah, I forgot I was at the wine bar for dinner tonight.]

I am a little worried, however, that my login ID may be deactivated before I can check on today’s events. 

Silly Season

I never thought I would say this, but will this election just be finished already??  That’s right….will the presidential election and the Titans football season just mercifully end??  [I did NOT expect this fall to be so joyless.] 

Maybe it’s because Obama is no longer winning by 9 points over humanoid Mitt Romney.  Maybe it’s because I get more emails with presidential campaign solicitations than I EVER got on Viagra or Nigerian lottery winnings.  Maybe it’s because I don’t even know what we’re arguing about on Benghazi.  

But whatever the reason, I…the person most responsible for sky-rocketing political blog click-throughs…. am ready for This.  Election.  To.  End.  Then at least I can get back to wine bar bookkeeping. 

As we get into the last few weeks of the various congressional campaigns, here is just a sampling of the really critical issues we are debating out there:

• In the Missouri senate race [which really has to perform somersaults of impropriety in order to push “legitimate rape” off the front page] Rep. Todd Akin described Claire McKaskill as a dog.  While Senator McKaskill was with her dying mother.  First…..you are quite the charmer, Mr. Akin.  Second, I pay pretty close attention to politics and Claire McKaskill is NOT the Senator I would liken to a canine.  After all, Senator Joe Lieberman and Droopy Dog were separated at birth. 
  
  
• In the Connecticut Senate race, former World Wrestling Federation CEO [ummmm.....shouldn’t we get to stop right there??] Linda McMahon describes her Medicare position: “Here’s what I’m going to say on this issue today. In terms of reforming and revising Social Security and Medicare, I really will not talk about specifics until we’re in a bipartisan way in Congress.”  First of all, who talks like that?  [Being “in a bipartisan way” sounds a LOT like an unwanted pregnancy - which seems like a subject Republicans should just stay away from].   Second, what is it with the current uber-trend where we voters are told not to worry our pretty little heads about all those really complicated issues going on in our country?? 
  
  
• In the three dozen political blogs I read each day [no wonder somebody’s AP checks to wineries are all late], the authors are struggling to come up with new and exciting ways to reference the states they cover.  After all, there are only so many times you can say “the Senate race in North Dakota”.  So bring on the references to the Roughrider, Peach Garden, and Flickertail State.  [the Flickertail State??  I did not make that up!]  I had to look up which state was the Mountain State....and I. Was. Born. There.  We need to end this thing before I am on a nickname basis with all 50 states. 



• And the most obvious reason we need this election to be over? Real TV networks continue to interview Donald Trump.  Need I say more? 

Honestly – at this point I think the winner would be whichever candidate promised to suspend any and all usage of “and I approved this message”.   

Bumper Cars

Members of my family have a terrible history of……. [you are DYING to see how this sentence ends, aren’t you?]

Members of my family have a terrible history of running into one another’s vehicles in the driveway of our homes.  It really is the McC’s signature vehicular move – driveway demolition derby.  In high school I was able to land the triple-lutz of driveway fender benders when I reversed my Toyota Tercel down the driveway in just such a way as to COMPLETELY sideswipe my sister’s Chevy Chevette [removing every inch of the snazzy wood paneling] before coming to rest alongside my dad’s Datsun 210 [that classy fleet of vehicles was the envy of my senior class, I just know it].  I imagine it was an interesting call to the insurance agent. 

My sister Nic finally joined the club on Saturday when she forgot that I (and my rental car) had come for a visit.  Considering my rental car is the size of a child’s toy, I am surprised she was able to find it in the driveway – but the bumper of her brand new, yet clearly unlucky, Volkswagon Passat must have a homing device. 

The execution of this easier-than-you-might-think maneuver generally includes several key factors:  Unfamiliar car in the exit path of your driveway; unacceptable tardiness to some event; a really good song on the radio that deserves to be turned up; and surprisingly, not once in half-a-dozen repeats, even a drop of alcohol.  

My dad’s method for preventing this oh-so-avoidable travesty was to park the visiting vehicle immediately behind the homeowner’s car.  Like…lock-your-bumper close.  So when the driver got in their car to back up, the proximity of items in your rearview mirror [that may impossibly be closer than they appear] surprised the shit out of you before you could even get your foot on the gas pedal. 

Well – gotta run so I can buff some scratches out before returning my rental car.

Barback

Ever since Blondie opened the wine bar, whenever people ask me what I do for a living I like to say “barback”. Not only does this answer get a much better response than “accountant” [in that people don’t turn around and start talking to other people], but it allows me to include shameless wine bar promotion from the very start of the conversation.

Of course...the suggestion of my employment at the shop elicits nervous laughter [and a barely discernible tic] from the proprietor.  I think her worst hospitality nightmare involves me saying ANYTHING other than “hello and welcome” [Such as this purely hypothetical customer/McC exchange….

“You say cabernet franc, I say cabernet frank....but hey...~tomato~, ~tamahto~, eh?.....Speaking of maters – you should try the tomato….I mean margarita….pizza….I mean flatbread.” 

Seriously, if Blondie had to choose between the sink backing up or me working the floor, I think she would choose the sink backing up.  [Perhaps because I mention things like the sink backing up for absolutely no good reason.]

How desperate would things have to get before I am pressed into service?  Well, quite frankly, I.  Don’t.  Know.   – as that level of desperation has yet to be seen.  Which is saying a lot – given a few of those early days.  Honestly, her contingency staffing plans go something like this:

• The neighbor who got fired from TGI Fridays
• Self-serve wine night
• me

I’ve actually gotten the call twice.  And both times, Blondie ultimately decided not only did she not need me to work the floor, but upon further consideration, she didn’t need me to handle the cash and the glasses were clean enough.  That’s right....Blondie said wineglasses were clean enough. 

 So I guess the truth is, I aspire to be a barback

Packing Ligh

There it is – our packing for our vacation to Cabo….no, don’t let those bags fool you…Rita and I only went for a week.  That’s right, I can take a 10-day a trip to Philly/Alaska/Nashville with only a single carry-on, but send us to the beach with nary a suit or penny loafer and we can’t get by without half our belongings.  But there are legitimate reasons for all this stuff:

• I am my mother’s daughter
• Coca Light is NOT the same as Diet Coke.  Provisions were packed accordingly.
• Molly’s in that brown box (with the wine)
• Well….that’s what my sunscreen inventory looks like when I go to the beach.  (I think we have 8 varietals of sunscreen.  There’s an arms race by sunscreen manufacturers to see how many spf you can cram into a tube and Rita and I are feeding that arms race.)
• Okay, okay – I fess up – I’m took my recently extended taxes with me to complete.  (I find I get a bigger refund when tequila is involved in my tax prep.)
• Speaking of tequila…
• I think I’m going to need all 7 pairs of flip flops
• Why we think we can’t get crackers in Mexico – I do not know.  But they do go nicely with the cheese course snuggled in one of those cases (hopefully not next to the flip fops). 

Laugh if you must – but when that box of wine comes spinning off the baggage carousel – we meet all kinds of new friends.  They would be so disappointed to know half of it is Diet Coke! 

Inclusive Inclusion

First off, I apologize if this post is in Spanish.  No - not my Rosetta Stone course paying off....Instead, Rita and I are in Cabo San Lucas for a week, testing the timeshare market and our sunscreen spf.  The place where we’re staying is offering all-inclusive food and drink for $79 a day. $79 a day!  Rita was worried that this was “an invitation to over-eat and drink”.  To which I replied, “Oh honey – this is vacation, that invitation has already been extended….and accepted.”  But I was worried about how we can make sure to get our $79 worth?  Here are possible ideas:

• Is there a starbuckies on site?
• Have you ever MET Rita P.???  I think we can cover the $79 on the charcuterie course.  [There is likely to be a Rita exclusion on future trips, so we better enjoy this go-round.]
• No….REALLY?  Alcohol is included?  Game Over [Looks like there could be a future Maeve exclusion too.]
• Everyone is getting Mexican bottled water for xmas.
• What’s your policy on sunscreen?
• I don’t even LIKE lox – but I’m getting a whole plate of it with the rest of my 7 course breakfast. 
• Put one of those pharmacias on site – all you can buy z-pacs.  (It IS Mexico, after all.)
• A la carte?  A la included.  =) 
• Wait a second….this isn’t like cruise ship food is it?! 

 Well – gotta run for my 2^nd all-inclusive latte of the afternoon, so more tomorrow (if the internet holds – and  that is not included.)

From the Front Lines

Well, the home inspection yesterday at mom's house was pretty interesting….I don’t want to say we had Chicken Little do the inspection, but I tell you what….this home inspector made the current crop of Republican presidential candidates look like Norman Vincent Peale in comparison.   

And as he walked around the house throwing these little words of wisdom out….mom just got paler and paler. [This was not really the objective of the house inspection.]

“The dryer vent doesn’t vent outside….just goes to the basement.  The vapors from that…they’ll go straight to your attic - it’s the coldest place in the house, y’know.  Next thing you know – you got mold and mildew all over the place.”  [It looks like a long day, mom, maybe you ought to pass those tranquilizers around.]

“These coils you’re trying to throw away…these go to your electric garage door opener, they’re the backup lines in case the primaries break.  These things keep the door from killing you if the primary snaps.”  [Alrighty then….I guess we won’t throw these life-saving wires away, now will we?  Come to find out, though, these were actually the coils from the LAST garage door that dad thought he better keep, just in case.]

“The electricity? – not grounded to anything.  A bolt of lightning comes – knocks your whole house out.”  [ummmm, okay….the odds of lightning-bolt damage between now and sale date is probably not my chief concern….but now mom can’t sleep for worrying about her lightning-bolt fate.  Great.  What are we going to cover next – unicorn damage??]

“Look at these steps to the basement, you rock real hard side to side like this – look at those steps move!” [Well quit doing that jackass!]

"This tube from your water conditioner….overlaps the sewer routing.  That’s right.  That sewer backs up and goes the wrong way?….well, game over then.”  [small vomiting sounds]

And the hole in the ceiling in the spare bedroom that pretty much screams “raccoon damage”?  Not a word.

After Mr. Sunshine came to visit, I’m less worried about selling the house and more worried about just surviving our visit.