Pig Roast: Attempt #1

Matt and Tyler attempting to make due with manually rotating the pig.

For our end-of-the-season party, everyone from work gathered together to roast a pig, eat drink and be merry. Since Tyler decided to roast a pig for my brother's rehearsal dinner in August, this dinner was going to be the first test run of his homemade portable spit.

 Unfortunately things did not go according to plan. The old scooter he had planned to use for a rotisserie motor did not work out at all. You can see the remains of the failed attempt to your right. Between manually turning the pig every three minutes with ratcheting tie-downs, and the biggest snow dump we've seen all season, the project had to be aborted. The pig had to be cut in thirds and thrown into the oven to finish cooking. It wasn't a total failure — we learned a lot and at least the skin crisped up nicely on the spit.

Unfortunate chain reaction

It wasn’t his fault, but all of the sudden a cop was standing in front of him, issuing him a ticket at work. All he did was run drinks to a table a new co-worker had taken the order for. She hadn’t carded them, and he didn’t ask if she had because he trusted her. But since he physically served the drinks ordered by the ignorant, not TIPS certified employee — he was the one getting the ticket.

This happened to my friend last night at my former work place. I found out the news second hand. My friend who received the ticket has to be legally suspended from work. He faces a $5,000 fine, a fourth degree felony on his record, and could spend 18 months in jail. This doesn’t even begin to tackle the fine for the restaurant, which I think is about $20,000. More than just a drop in the bucket.
The stupid girl who took the drink order and had my friend run drinks to the table was not going to receive a ticket. My old boss came out, insisted that the cops give her a ticket since she started the unfortunate chain reaction. She ended up getting fired on the spot (plus a ticket), but my friend still has his job.

Now my friend is no spring chicken to the restaurant industry, and he has a long standing working relationship with my old boss. He’s been at the same restaurant for about five years, but has worked in the Vail Valley for longer. They’ve both worked together at other restaurants in the past. He is responsible, calm and collected when he’s in the weeds, and one of the most professional servers I’ve ever worked with. He actually is the one who trained me when I first got to town and started working there. When I was managing for the first time, he was such a help to me and an asset. I am incredibly upset that this happened to him, and I hope it will all turn out alright.

And the scary thing is it could happen to any server, host, sommelier, busser, bartender, manager, etc. in that situation. I was lucky the past two years to work with such a tight-knit crew, and know we had each others’ backs, and that I never had to worry about this before. Now that I’m in a new place, I don’t know if I have the same confidence as I used to.

At my old work they’ve started a collection to help my friend. Everyone is donating $20 each out of their tips to help pay for court fees, and if he does in fact get fines. I miss the camaraderie of my old crew so much — it was nice to be a part of something like that for a little while. So today I’m going in to the village early and dropping off my contribution. I’d like to think they’d so the same for me.

100,000 miles

When the truck hit 100,000 miles on the odometer, we had just passed Eagle bombing down eastbound I-70 on our way to Avalanche Ranch. We had been spending a lazy morning together at home, when he suddenly declared that we should do something fun that day. Within 45 minutes he’d booked a cabin at the hot springs, packed the dog and human bags, and loaded up the truck. All I did was take a shower and save a few episodes of This American Life for the road trip.

The mile-marker hit by the truck just represents only one of the many impromptu getaways that Tyler has put together rapidly over the years. My dad even told me once that the truck was perfect for our “get up and go” travel style. And this trip was no different.

Tyler’s been the romantic one in this relationship. When we first started dating, I told him I didn’t want to do anything to celebrate Valentine’s Day. He still insisted on taking me out on a non-Valentine’s dinner the day after. And now he’ll plan lovely trips for the two of us — sometimes over weeks, or minutes. One time we went for a hike outside of Glenwood Springs, then went to a beer dinner. While we were waiting for it to start, he disappeared and then came back with a key to a room at the Hotel Denver next door. Surprises are his strong suit, and we were headed on another one.

When we arrived at the hot springs, the place was pretty vacant — probably because most couples planned on staying there during Valentine’s Day weekend. We only saw a handful of people in the hot springs during the afternoon, and no one was out that night or in the morning. The cabin was cute and quaint with a fully equipped kitchen. He cooked lamb chops and veggies for dinner; we played cribbage; we soaked in the springs as much as we possibly could; we saw shooting stars and watched the night sky rotate; we talked about the present and future; we just spent time together and didn’t think about anything else.

I woke up early and sat at the cabin table drinking my morning coffee. Tyler slept soundly, as did Moses, while Aspen laid on my feet to keep my toes warm. The sun crept over the mountain tops, climbing in between the sunflower covered curtains. I didn’t want the trip to end, but the nagging feeling of getting back to work started to creep back into our lives. You can spontaneously escape for periods of time, but you always have to go back eventually. I woke him up, packed up the truck, took one more soak, and rolled on down the road.

Now that we’re back home, and the odometer reads 100,131 miles — I can’t help but think of all the places we’ve gone and where we will end up next. As for next weekend, we’ll be home just enjoying being together.

This is January

After the biter cold visited us not to long ago, that icy grasp of winter began to loosen and reveal an abnormally warm day in January. So unusual in fact, that we both had complete overdressed for the occasion. After stripping down to my basic layers, I was hiking in just a tank top and rolled up running pants, while Tyler had to suffer through with his heavy duty winter boots and capri style jeans. We made it through the balmy bluebird day, but so far there are no signs of winter returning anytime soon. You know it’s warm when you can hear snow melting when you get home at midnight, and there are still two and half months left to go before the mountain closes. Come on, snow...

Tape delay dissapointment

Tyler managed to make it home from work last night without finding out about his Broncos' devastating loss. He couldn't wait to sit down on the couch with a beer and cheer his team to victory.

I knew the score of the game and how it happened. I even had to record an additional hour because the regular 30 minute live recording extension wasn't enough time to document the playoff game. Knowing that his team was about to suffer a double over time loss for the second time in our living room that night almost made me leave the room.

The hardest part about games like this is not giving away the outcome. You can't sound too hopeful when commenting about the last play, or too negative. And then there's another strategy: fall asleep on the couch while he's watching the fourth quarter. It was 1 a.m. after all, so it's a completely legitimate maneuver.

When the kink in my neck woke me up, the game was over. You could see it by the look on his face. Almost eight hours after the original loss was written down in the books, the tape delay disappointment had finally made its way to our home.

But at least my Niners won.