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My luverly stay at the Freeway Palace Hotel has come to an end and I am back again among my lovelies. I have collected my mountain of cash (which will rapidly dwindle when I pay my bills) and I can lounge until New Year's safe in the knowledge that I have done my duty and made the world a better place for those who can afford it that way.
I am refreshed, invigorated, and ready to roll into 2006 on a high note. May it be a year of wealth and success for us all. . . (did I really say impeachment? I didn't realize I was speaking out loud. . .)
Now, you must excuse me. . .the new seed catalogues are here. . . .
Only worked a half day today. Which is pretty good because I wasn't supposed to work at all, and yesterday--my half day--ended up being pretty full.
I awoke in a petulant mood and I ripped the plastic wrap off of one of the coffee mugs in the room and strode forth to do battle. The chamber made gave me a "don be steeling dat mug, now" look as I sallied forth towards the ample breakfasting room. I had already been at the treadmill and my ankles we're a bit week as I entered the room, but I kept a stiff upper lip. I grabbed the usual fruit, English Muffins, jam and went for the coffee. I held out my mug proudly and filled it, smirking to an unknowing audience. Strike one blow against corporate waste--let the loosers and riff-raff keep drinking from puny 6 oz styrofoam cups, I've got 8 ounces of earth-friendly brown liquid wanting to be coffee in my hands. I ate while reading, trying to block out the everpresent CNN channel and people who've already watched this same news a half-hour ago while dressing--What do they think. . .that they'll miss something over their sausage, biscuts and gravy? I got up after all I could tolerate, refilled my mug and stode forth. When I got back to the room, I got ready to go, and as I left, hung the "Do Not Disturb" tag on the door handle.
This is the third day I have been Not-To-Disturb. What must the staff think? That I am some filthy slob lounging in filth all the day long. . .they are crying to get in to the room to find out because when I am in, they hover about outside waiting to catch a glimpse in when I leave. I'll throw them a bone tomorrow as I'll be out early and all day. They can come in and dust then. But I'm not going to put my towels on the floor, and they can just do with changing the bag in the one waste basket. I won't play a part in their wasteful game of constant room cleansing, towel washing, bin emptying, pillow fluffing corporate mandates. I've finally got the room lived in, I'll be damned if I'm going to spend my remaining days being reminded that I'm alone in a sterile hotel room.
This afternoon I hurried through my paperwork--which I am all caught up on now--so that I could make my 6:30pm massage appointment. Now, normally I don't go in for all this spa crap, but my back was in knots and it seemed the thing to do with some of all the money I'm earning. It was pure torture. Great. I'm a limp noodle. I am now grabbing a bite to eat--leftover soup from the big house, salame, smoked gouda, cornichons, french bread and Belgian Ale. The crumbs will give the maid something to do tomorrow. . .I've been cleaning up and cooking for 13 people, someone can look after me a bit. I think I'll post this, drink some more, watch some telly and read some magazines before calling it a day. Tomorrow is a bizy one--14 mouths to feed twice and all the cleanup. 12 hours of cooking and witty banter here I come. At some point this is going to end and with it the dream that I am still young, single and stylish. Oh well. I'll take the cashed check. . . .
From wherever I am to whereever you are--MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Weak Coffee Grows Thin
Breakfast to eat it or not?
Chef Neal, Food Snob, reveals all
Complimentary must be a new synonym for bad, or crappy or just don't give a damn. It also has an element of hocus pocus in it, because invariably good looking food is actually terrible. By why then were the 20 or so other guests oinking thier way gleefully up to the trough, returning plates ladden with Lord knows what all? I've been to many hotels, and this one is pretty nice compared to the usual rat-infested dung heaps I stay in while working long hours aways from home. My Christmas motto--stick to the toast.
I tried those sausages today, can ya tell?
Just to say there were no breakfasty incidents today. Only after yesterdays sausage patty jeryky experience I didn't even lift the chaffer's lids--one sighting of neon yellow rubber eggs is enough in a week--so, I missed some rather okay looking sausages. I opted for the classics: peanut butter and jelly toasts, fruit and coffee. I do not recommend trying the orange juice--it is orange and what might be considered juice, if by juice you mean liquidy. But if you mean by juice--A fluid naturally contained in plant: fruit juice--that it was definitely not.
I am avoiding doing paperwork because I'm dog tired with tired dogs and a propane induced, sleep deprived, pnumonic headache.
On the brighter side I have laid in a supply of cocoa against insomnia tonight. Why it works, I don't know but one mug and off I go.
Paperwork, Paperwork, Paperwork. . . Pause, Pause, Pause. . .Wait, it can't be called paperwork because I'm doing it on my laptop and while I do shuffle the occasional recipt the rest is all done behind the glowing screen.
I think I nodded off there. Time to doze.
After a restless night in a first cold, then too hot room on a slab hard matress I got up and went for a swim in the kidney shaped pool. It was too small and I was constantly fighting my own wake. Looked and Felt like Shamoo.
Showered and dressed I headed for the spectacular breakfast buffet of cold and soggy gelatenous matter with fruit compote and bitter recycled coffee. And as I sat amidst 10 or so other hungry munchers reading our complimentary USA todays, feigning interest in what we were eating, our surroundings and eachother, we were asked by a swarm of firefighters to evacuate.
The hostess valiantly tried to screw us by asking if we could stay and finish our breakfast but we were evacuated from whatever apparent danger there was. I for one took my coffee, paper and bowl of fruit with and went outside jokingly and sat in the freezing rain and wind on some patio furnature like I was in the bahamas rather than a bloke about to get a serious dose of pnumonia from being out in winter in freezing rain without a coat.
The said valiant hostess and her gaggle of counter/desk girls waited impending doom in the warmth of the lobby, obviously eying the firemen and the lenght of their hoses. They did however put on coats at one point.
After a while the joke was over--I was fffffricking cold. Nothing was happening. No flames, smoke or explosions. . .I could see other guest breakfasting in my very seat. Were we the only ones to be sacraficed in such a manner. My other frigid compatriots were growing restless just when they allowed us back in.
What gets me is there was no head count, no safety lecture, nothing to indicate that our time out in the cold with wet, shower fresh hair, and toast crumbs on our lips was worth the effort. I'm cheesed off and contemplating what to do. . .
It's 4:09 Am and there's no Cocoa in the hotel I'm staying in. Is there no God?
The faint starry sky has faded to a pinkish fog anchored by dark mounds around us. The East is awash in this pink glow arising to the blue vault of heaven. We're slicing through the icy gray murk, past bobbing cormorants, jutting crags, and bell buoys.
Pink changing to purple the longer we surge forward, the further we head.
I'm riding in this swaying steel hulk of discomforted humanity early on this day to spend the next 5 hours, my cheeks splayed against synthetic comfort, traveling for what I hope is a one hour meeting with new clients. Then after a few more stops for sundries I'm 5 hours reversed, Westing my way towards the pinky purple glow of the ending day.
Commuting by ferries has to have its benefits and I guess one of them could be said to be the hour, twice a day, or unstressful relaxation. The chance to do something. Me, I write or work on business accounts or a set of tasks which I only do while I'm traveling on the ferry. Listening to headsetted music from my laptop I read those well travelled magazines which somehow only come with me on these trips, or I tap away on something like this so that, mainland ho, cup of coffee and wifi hence I can pause for a moment in my travels and connect with something larger than the harried moment I am living.
If I didn't listen to music on the trip I think I would be driven mad by the continuous pounding of the engines, the churning of the great wheel driving us forward, the not-quite-ready-for-stage guitar pickers, the slap, slap, slap of multiple solitare players--why don't they get together and play hearts?--the clack, clack of hundreds of knitting needles, the tennis shoe screech of linoleum, the flap,flap, swoosh of the Times, The Seattle PI, USA Today all being turned to the sports section simultaneously before heading to the business section, the want ads, employment, and finally the news of yesterday; round and round the stomp of walkers goes, the health conscious who can't sit still for an hour circulate the outside perimeter of the deck , rotating at their bipedal at 40 miles an hour, there they go, pace, pace, pace, here they come again.
In a moment I'll head back down to the cardeck, to squeeze between the swaying hulks parked too closely in an effort to make more money, to get all the impatient--I have somewhere to be--lazy, slackbeds who rushed to the ferry just at sailing time, not the hour before to wait in line in a freezing car for their ship to come in. My clothes will be dirty from scraping front and back on the unwashed country lane dirt of my neighbors from two islands. And I will compress my broken back, contorted into odd shapes as I try to crawl into my car through a 6 inch crack as I wedge the door against the hull of the ship--everyonce and a while some poser with a full bladder will be caught in his gull-winged $100,000 car pissing in his coffee cup because there is no way he could dream of opening his doors with a foot between cars either side. . . .
We're here and I'm headed there. Have a great day.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Chef Neal Foley compliments his popular Podcast, The Gastrocast with the release of his cookbook, The Gastrocast Cookbook: episodes 6-26 at Lulu.com
SHAW ISLAND, WA—November 18, 2005— Neal Foley, aka "The Podchef" teaches cooking enthusiasts fundamentals of cooking with the publication of The Gastrocast Cookbook: episodes 6-26 in conjunction with Lulu (www.lulu.com), the world’s fastest-growing provider of print-on-demand books.
The Gastrocast Cookbook: episodes 6-26 is a companion volume to The Gastrocast Podcast--an audio cooking show--and contains step-by-step, detailed instructions for preparing many of the recipes on the show. Chef Foley compliments the text with his richly detailed and beautiful photographs of every step of the preparations. First published as an ebook available to fans of the show, Chef Foley is releasing the print version of the book with Lulu because he wanted to be in control of the publishing process and found Lulu’s print-on-demand tools to be fast, easy and, most importantly, free. The Gastrocast Cookbook: episodes 6-26 is available for purchase at www.lulu.com/podchef, in a marketplace filled with other unique and wonderful surprises.
“Independent publishing and print-on-demand is the wave of the future. It is the perfect way to compliment other modern web tools--blogs, podcasting, and tagging--to expand an individual's means of communication in a competitive market.” said Chef Neal Foley. “The Lulu process allows me to cut out the middle man (i.e. a separate publisher) and get my work out there the way I want it. My book fits perfectly with Lulu's model—niche publishing for a niche market that otherwise would be overlooked."
Link to Publication*: http://www.lulu.com/podchef
ABOUT AUTHOR
Neal Foley owns and runs his own catering company--The Kitchen Garden Company (www.kitchengardenfoods.com)--and has been teaching cooking skills for the last 5 years. Through his latest venture the weekly, The Gastrocast Podcast, Chef Foley has the ability to reach a larger and varied audience with a mixture of cooking, food related new items and topical rants. In addition to presenting, cooking and writing, Chef Foley loves photography and has received international praise for his food images.
ABOUT LULU
Founded in 2002, Lulu is the world’s fastest-growing print-on-demand marketplace for digital do-it-yourselfers. Please see www.lulu.com for more information.
# # #
MEDIA CONTACT: Neal Foley, podchef@gmail.com, Skype: Podchef
For more information, also check out The Gastrocast
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