With all of the recent county budget crises, it got me thinking about the larger economic picture and how precarious it all is. It then occured to me that the food industry is actually one of the most secure. I have few illusions about the glamor of food service, having waitressed for many, many years while in high school and college; the hours are long, the work is hard and the potential for injuries is everpresent. That said, I suppose that I always secretly dream of having a restaurant. Sitting in traffic or listening to hold music on the phone, I imagine the name of my place [As if I would tell you!], the decor, the menu but it is, will and remain just that for me, a dream. Those who toil in kitchens and dining rooms, however, can remain fairly confident that their jobs will always remain. People have to eat, right? Well, yes but imagine this, if you will. You go into a restaurant and the waiter takes you order. Unbeknownst to you, the kitchen jobs have all been outsourced. Behind the swinging door, your order, given in Buffalo or Chicago or L.A. is faxed to Mumbai. Your food arrives 24 hours later. Eventually, when people get used to the idea, menu items will include, along with the traditional "soup or salad", a choice of "overnight or ground." Who knows, this change may already have started to take place. In fact, this may explain the Sterling.

A few thoughts

My firm is doing a photo shoot on Tuesday and it has thrown me into a panic reminiscint of high school yearbook head shot angst. I needed to get my hair trimmed and came out looking, according to the Flash, like a puli. While I was spending endless hours undergoing this transformation, I was able to conduct a bit of research. As if further proof were needed that pink is the new black, all of the stylists, manicurists and receptionists at the hair salon have traded in their black outfits for... pink.

Recently watching The Big Easy, I was giggling about the very 1980s hairstyles, until I was reminded that I also had most of the goofiest of them, thanks to these guys.

Tante Grace joined us for dinner last night but may never do so again. While I was transferring the very hot roasted chicken from roasting pan to platter, it slipped and landed squarely in her lap. Did it fall or was it pushed? It was an accident! Really! Then, mere moments later, the top of the corkscrew flew off and shot at her like a bullet. Luckily, she hit the deck and escaped serious injury. Just another memorable night.