So here's what's happened:
The interview and the call-back both went well. The position os for a new restaurant that opens in early June, training starts May 30. Unfortunately, I'll be out of town the first two weeks in June -- we purchased non-refundable tickets to visit my in-laws.
But they want to hire me, so they're going to contact me when I return, and fit me into the schedule then. It will probably be part-time at first. but with the opportunity to advance quickly. Meanwhile, I continue to fill out applications and send out resumes in case I find something that's a better fit.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
That's My Boy!
It's been a while since I updated my readers on The Lad. Well, it's been over four years since his birth, and he's growing into quite a wonderful boy -- sweet, very tender-hearted, good to his mother, bright (SCARY smart at times), with a surprisingly well-developed and wicked sense of humor.
And he's definitely his father's son. He insists on helping me in the kitchen every time I cook. When he plays, he plays at "cooking". When he pretends to salt his "food" while playing, he doesn't shake a salt shaker -- he pinches with his fingers and rubs them together. And today, he REALLY proved that I've raised him well.
The weather was glorious -- close to 80, I'd guess -- so we spent a lot of time outdoors -- we went to the park, went garage sale hunting. On our way home, we pulled up at a stop sign when the smell of smoke came wafting into the car. This wasn't charcoal smoke, this was real wood smoke -- oak, I'd guess, from the aroma. Before I could comment myself, The Lad chimed up, "Do you smell the barbecue?"
I'll make a pitmaster out of him before he can legally drink!
And he's definitely his father's son. He insists on helping me in the kitchen every time I cook. When he plays, he plays at "cooking". When he pretends to salt his "food" while playing, he doesn't shake a salt shaker -- he pinches with his fingers and rubs them together. And today, he REALLY proved that I've raised him well.
The weather was glorious -- close to 80, I'd guess -- so we spent a lot of time outdoors -- we went to the park, went garage sale hunting. On our way home, we pulled up at a stop sign when the smell of smoke came wafting into the car. This wasn't charcoal smoke, this was real wood smoke -- oak, I'd guess, from the aroma. Before I could comment myself, The Lad chimed up, "Do you smell the barbecue?"
I'll make a pitmaster out of him before he can legally drink!
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