Saturday, April 24, 2010

Body Langauge Blogfest

OK - Melanie got me into this - sorry I'm a tad late on it but malicious microbes were visiting.  Anyway I stole this from Melanie's blog  to explain a what this is about:

 Harley D. Palmer over at Labotomy of a Writer (click on this to see the other entries) was talking with Ashelynn and came up with the idea for a blogfest for a scene where there is conversation, but without any dialog at all...whatsoever. Just body language.

So - here's my stab at it.  GULP - my first attempt please be kind.

Muto was THE up and coming new age spa resort.  There were three Muto spas already one in Taos, one in Beverly Hills, and a third in Jackson Hole. The latest one was going to be opening in the Columbia River Gorge to much fanfare and as part of the celebration local chefs were invited to create a signature dish.  If the head chef liked it, it would be added to the gala celebration dinner menu. And here she was - Kate Cameron – culinary school drop out about to try her best to have her quinoa salad become part of that menu. 

            Kate followed the directions she’d been e-mailed and parked and headed towards the kitchen.  One thing puzzled her, no sound.  Well no human sound that is.  She could hear birds chirping and cars passing by on I-84 but no voices.  She attributed it to the fact that Muto hadn’t opened yet and probably had just a skeletal staff at the moment.

            She walked in; the place was swank that’s for sure.  Her eyes caressed the marble floors, the mahogany paneled walls, the teak furniture that looked sleek and elegant and no doubt had been imported from Denmark just as the crystal chandeliers had been imported from Germany. 

She caught sight of two women dressed in what appeared to be Muto staff uniforms.  Kate approached them smiling, they smiled back but when Kate opened her mouth to speak their smiles vanished in an instant, their eyes flew wide, their hands flew to their mouths and they rapidly rushed past her, one of them casting a nervous glance back.  Odd that, she thought, but with a shrug she headed off in the direction of the kitchens.

            There was only the sound of her footsteps clicking against the marble floors, echoing in the stillness of the vast area that was Muto.  She found the kitchen, opened the door and peeked in.  There, standing by the prep table was a very tall, very thin, very stern looking woman dressed in chef whites.  She glanced at Kate then cast her glance down to her watch then back at Kate.  Feeling her face starting to burn with embarrassment, Kate smiled sheepishly and entered the kitchen.  She was about to apologize when she saw the sign.  No Talking.  It said in large type.  NO EXCEPTIONS.  No talking?  NO TALKING?  Really?  Then she’d remembered what Irene, her friend, had told her.  Muto was the latest thing in spas.  They tried to create a monastic feeling where guests become in tune with their other senses and contemplate their inner self all in TOTAL SILENCE.

            The head chef crossed her arms in front of her chest and peered down her long nose at Kate.  Kate smiled half-heartedly.  The woman stepped back her gaze falling on the prep table.  Kate glanced around nervously, nonplussed at the utter silence.  Then she saw the ingredients for the salad in a small cluster at the end of the table.  She straightened her shoulders, tugged on the hem of her chef’s jacket, looked the head chef in the eyes and nodded.  The woman made a sweeping gesture with her hand towards the table.  Kate nodded curtly and strode over and began to prep. 

The salad was simple, quinoa, roasted peppers, black beans, raisins, slivered almonds, in a light tahini dressing.  Simple.  She unrolled her knife bag and took out her favorite santoku.  The head chef glanced down at the knife then back at Kate.  Kate set the knife down slowly and placed both hands on her hips looked at the woman and arched an eyebrow.  The head chef smiled raised her hands and took a few steps back. 

            It took a little less then an hour for her to assemble the salad and plate it.  She’d topped the salad with some toasted almonds.  Muto’s head chef turned the plate examining Kate’s creation.  She glanced at the almonds and frowned.  She took a fork and started to remove them from the top of the salad.  Kate glared at her and pulled the salad plate away.  The chef blinked at Kate, her brow furrowed then she smiled, put down the fork and nodded.   Kate pushed the plate back over to her.  The chef picked the fork up and glanced at Kate.  Kate grinned a Cheshire grin and bowed low rolling her hand out in front of her chest with her left foot forward.  The chef took a bite of her salad and a genuine smile lit up her face, her eyes twinkled and her nose scrunched up. She placed the fork down, wiped her mouth with a napkin, turned and bowed to Kate.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Is it better now...or now?

Ok I need to warn you this is a venting rant. If you do not wish to read then might I suggest the following blogs to help you allude the ranting vent that will follow Melanie Sherman's humorous look at life the pearl of Carol is always a great read mynorthwestexperience is always a tasty experience I dare you NOT to laugh at Tawna Fenske's blog.

Ok - still here.  Cause honest I told you it's going to be a rant and a vent... I suppose that would be a rent or a vant.

Anyway ... here's the tale.

Lately I've been having headaches at the back of the eye.  I suspected my glasses.  There's an odd film on them I can't get off and when I wear my contacts I don't get the headache.  Only problem with wearing the contacts is that they're mono-vision and I have migraines.  I get a migraine - mono vision goes boom!  So, no contacts.

I call the ophthalmologist - this guy is an MD he's been to college, medical school and then specialized in all things eyes so I'm figuring he can help.

I get to the eye place, fill out the form.  Why am I there...HEADACHES followed by new contacts.  Sue me I like contacts.  A few minutes later I'm called in.  This is not the Dr.  this is an assistant.  She's going to do the checking of my vision.  Hmmm...ok.  I guess that's cool.  I tell her, I'm having headaches,  can't wear the contacts due to migraines, I think there's a film on my glasses - etc.  She does the usual - which is clearer - one or two... two or three..blah blah blah.  She then has me read the oh so familiar chart on the wall.  Ok - left eye not much difference, right eye - yeah there's a difference from before.  Could this be the reason for my headaches?  yes probably - she says.  She dilates my eyes and then off she goes, reassuring me the doctor will be with me shortly.

Shortly must mean something different to some doctors, because shortly was NOT shortly.  Finally he rushes in.  He shakes my hand as he's moving towards the desk.  This guy is ALL motion.  Ok, so I wanted contacts...well yes, but.....and what contacts did I have I couldn't remember mono-visions - ok not a problem we can call where you got them before.  Um..ok.  Let's look at the eyes.  Ok.  Now he gets out the thing that makes it feel like a klieg light is shining in my dilated eyes.  No... what it will be bright, no sorry this might be bright.  Nope - look here, here, here, here, and here.  I'm not sure he's even looking because he's having me look up down right left so fast.

"Have you ever had a glaucoma test?" Ummm...have I?  I can't remember.  I did something years back but was that a glaucoma test?
"no." I reply and he starts off to do something else. Then it dawns on me.  The eyes.  So I tell him

"By the way, my mother and I have this odd genetic thing with our eyes, it looks like we have the early stages of glaucoma."

"I'd like you to take the test."  Um...ok what part of genetic thing didn't you understand?

Ok we're done.  Done? headaches..what I wrote down.  What about my headaches.  He assures me they'll call the place where I got my contacts and find out what I had so they can give me something different.  Ok, but headaches.  You know...why I came in?

He's escorting me out the door when I mention the glasses.  OH!  Yeah he forgot to give me the prescription.  So again I will this help my headaches.  He's scribbling.  Um, you know I get headaches when I look at the computer all day...I work on a computer all day and I get headaches I think from these glasses.  Scribble.  Will this prescription help with the headaches?

"No it's not much different then your old one."
"but the headaches."
"You're 47...I'll up the reading portion of your prescription."

That was it.  What was I thinking. I mean did I really expect to have him sit down and us chat about my headaches? Did I really expect him to brainstorm with me WHY I could be getting them?  Light at my desk, closeness of the computer monitor, etc.  Did I really expect him to act like he was LISTENING to a SINGLE WORD I SAID?

Frankly, yes.  Wouldn't you?