Lifestyle of the poor and the waitress.

Sitting down to write about what happened the past 4 days, 35 hours of work, I realize that I've erased all memory of the past work week.

On my walks to work I see deer, the Doe Bay cat, Gorgonzola, fish jumping-if the tide is in-and great blue herons flying low to catch them. I brain-deadedly swipe my timecard and walk up the steps to serve the tourists vegan, organic breakfasts. I am on my feet from 6:45am to 4pm 5 days a week. But I have my first month's rent in a four day period of time...it's worth it, I think.

The Doe Bay staff--about 12 of us--live in what we call "Tent City" about a 1/10 mile away from the waterfront, cafe and tubs. It is home, and I am growing to like it. Quite a bit, in fact.

Last night in the tubs, I met a really cool woman, probably in her late 40s. As I looked at the ocean I noticed a gorgeous rainbow arching over the peninsula of land jutting into the water. "This place is just magical," she responded.

We got to talking, about where she was from, what she does, the past times she's visited here, what I'm doing here, how old I am (her response: "Oh, you're still a baby. You have lots of time left to play."). She's a writer who does freelance. She had worked writing Starbucks training manuals and other corporate gigs. "Hate to break it to you, but there's no money in travel writing." She was telling me the beauty of waitressing and how it can get you around the world, especially if you're willing to tent it. It had gotten her and her tent to New Zealand, Australia, and Asia. Then, after us being naked in the tubs the night before with a crowd of overweight raucous gamers wearing bindhis, I served her--and the 30 year old gamers--the following morning at breakfast. Ain't life grand?

I think I'll like it here.

I will write more on my boss a bit later. Perhaps once I have more material. I have a baby story idea for a man named Lance Boils as well.