Pie in the Eye, Pie in the Sky: Service Worth Your While

 Fabulous Felt Cherry Pie Barrette

Out of This Swirled Agate Bangle

Top: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Bag: Macy's Backstage

Bag charm: Carole, JCPenney

Sunglasses: Michaels 

I've never worked in food service, and I can safely say that I wouldn't want to.  For one thing, I lack the upper body strength.  For another, I'm not sure I could keep my cool with strangers.  I have a tendency to laugh when things get awkward, and also, I'm a terrible liar.  (The lobster bisque?  No, it wasn't made today.  More like last Tuesday, and also, I saw the chef drop his contact in it.)  While I'm being honest, I'm not that big on cooking either (yes, the Food and Recipes menu tab on this blog is very misleading.  Note to self: replace with Heel Steals -- Shoe Shopping Confidential.  Which may be about shoes I bought really cheap . . . or shoes that I stole.  Stay tuned.)  That said, I can appreciate the kind of creative catharsis that comes from baking a pie or a cake or even the almost-impossible-to-master souffle.  Because that catharsis is not all that different from the kind that comes from making a felt pie hair piece (the barrette kind, not the toupee) or stringing a necklace or stockpiling sequins.  Also, I love pie.  Mostly key lime, although mermaid marshmallow sounds tempting, too.  Even if I haven't heard of it outside of Waitress. 

Ah Waitress, the movie-starring-Kerri-Russell-turned-play-starring-Katharine-McPhee-and-sometimes-her-understudy.  My parents and I saw the play on Broadway a few weeks ago, and it was marvelous, as tasty as Entenmann's, Mrs. Smith's, and Mom's homemade pastries combined.  Because it is, after all, a sweet story.  Well, maybe sweet's not the right word, as it has spousal abuse and adultery.  Maybe it's better to say sweetly tangy, like Laffy Taffy or Sour Patch Kids or ambrosia that's started to turn.  Anyway, the eponymous waitress is Jenna, and her dream is to open a pie shop.  She bakes unusual -- and unusually named -- pies for Joe's Pie Diner, where she serves them to the local yokels, including the cantankerous-but-secretly-kind Joe.  A waitress's job is to tend to the needs of others, and Jenna's is no different.  Her boss is a jerk, and the tips aren't always what they should be.  Add her mean old husband and an unplanned pregnancy, and she's ripe for an affair with . . . her gynecologist?  Yep.  In the movie, this dude is played by Nathan Fillion, which, although unappealing (I'm no Fillion fan), is believable because Castle brings a certain snarkiness with his suave.  But in the play, Dr. Love (not his real name) is more of a corn-fed, aw shucks kind of guy.  In the end it doesn't matter because Waitress isn't about romance.  It's about a down-and-out woman finding her way.  And also about happiness and grabbing it any way that you can.  When Jenna hears about a pie contest with a serious cash prize, she thinks it's her last chance for freedom.  But fate has other plans.  

I wouldn't classify the movie version as a comedy.  A dark comedy maybe, but even that's a stretch.  It's more of a drama.  So, I wasn't sure what to expect from the play.  I'm happy to report that it's more fanciful than foreboding, from the smell of freshly baked pie being piped in the theater to the cherry pie lattice-topped curtain:

And then, of course, there's the music by Sara Bareilles (I'm working hard not to insert a "Cherry Pie" by Warrant joke here.  You're welcome.).  You can't be grim when you're singing and dancing, and the musical theater element makes what could be a dense dish as light as egg whites.

Here's my program (er, playbill; Tracy, get it together, this isn't the Ice Capades).  The production we saw wasn't with Katharine, but no one can ever prove it. 

After the show, it was out into the mass of throbbing humanity that is Times Square.  But only momentarily, as Dad expertly herded us out of the throng and toward the considerably less crowded Rockefeller Center. 

On the way we stopped to take this picture.  If you look very closely (or break out your Sherlock Holmes-style magnifying glass or zoom in or whatever), then you can see my Flash Charms necklace and Lady in Lime ring from PinkBopp.

In keeping with the dessert theme, here are some ice pop stamps.  They're scratch and sniff!  What more could an '80s kid (or really, anyone) want from postage?  It's the perfect time to photograph them, too, because I just used my last boring PEACE stamp and need to send my water bill.  (Yes, I snail mail my bills like an eighty-year-old.  Obviously, for the super cool stamps.)

So, that's a wrap.  The next time your waitress serves you a slice -- be nice.  You don't know what kind of day -- or life -- she's had.

Also, you don't want her adding a side of lugee. 

So I went to New York . . .

. . . and brought my Tote Trove tote and handmade jewelry! They fit right in with the ever eclectic fashion parade of the city, making me a little wistful. Growing up, I kind of thought I'd end up in New York, writing or painting or something. But life happens; I'm firmly rooted in Atlantic County, NJ, and none the worse for it. The New York jaunt was the brainchild of the bf's sister and stepsister. Prior to the trip, I'd seen them only at the bf's family dinners, etc., so I was excited to get to know them better. They stayed at my house Thursday night, and we ended up talking about all sorts of stuff into the night as I packed. It was fun, so much so that I almost forgot to be embarrassed by my less-than-stellar housekeeping skills. The trip itself was jam-packed with activity. We were off bright and early Friday morning, putting us in the city at just before noon. We dropped our bags at the stately Roosevelt hotel, scarfed down a tasty lunch at Good Burger (never found out if it was any relation to that Nickelodeon flick with Kenan and Kel), and boarded the subway to Canal Street. I'd never been on the subway (or to Canal Street, for that matter), and I had some issues making it through the turnstile. I waited too long after swiping my Metro card and was denied access, causing me to have one of my mini tantrums. "She's a first-timer," explained the bf's stepsister. The guy behind me offered to let me through with him, and begrudgingly I assented. It was one of those horrible times when I could feel myself growing more childish by the second but was powerless to stop it. Oh well. All was soon forgotten as we emptied out into the madness of Canal Street. Vendors hawking handbags, jewelry, tee shirts, and perfume beckoned from every storefront while over-zealous bargain hunters slipped into secret back rooms. The experience was unparalleled to any in my sheltered, mall-clogged retail history. But it was colorful and gritty and better acquainted me with the city, and I was glad I went. We ended our adventure with a stop at Starbucks (the first of many), then headed back to The Roosevelt to dress for dinner at Tavern on the Green. I don't know what I was expecting the restaurant to be like, but it wasn't the fairy tale that emerged from Central Park. We were ushered into a glass-walled dining room, which boasted a ceiling so flowery and colorful that it looked like the top of a birthday cake. Cliché or not, I felt like I was in a movie. The food lived up to the décor; my bacon and blue cheese-drenched lettuce wedge salad, filet, twice-baked potato, spinach, and lemon meringue tart were perfect. Someone from the restaurant snapped our picture, which we purchased. (I would've included it here, but I don't have a scanner.) We couldn't get a cab back . . . so were forced to settle for a limo. The dinner was my favorite part of the trip. In addition to the obvious "fancy" factor, there was just something easy and relaxed about our conversation, which was nice. We capped the night off with a walk in Times Square, where we had our caricatures drawn. They came out as badly as you would expect, but it was funny and one more thing I could check off of my never-done-it-before list. We spent most of Saturday afternoon touring the city from the top of a double-decker bus. We had good weather and terrific seats right up front. I saw lots of sections I never had before and made a mental note to spend some time nosing around Soho and Greenwich Village on my next trip. After grabbing a light lunch, we wandered around for a bit, ducking into the Trump building (who knew there were restaurants there?) and Tiffany's for some window shopping before getting ready for Mary Poppins at the New Amsterdam Theater. Not a huge Mary Poppins fan, I was a little bored by the storyline. Nevertheless, there were several good production numbers, complete with colorful, glittery costumes and splashy music. And Mary's "flight" into the sky at the end was impressive (not to mention scary; you wouldn't catch me up there.) Afterward we filed out into the rain-damp crush of people in Times Square in search on - what else? - pizza. We were starving, despite our intermission snacks. After that it was off to bed. We were all exhausted after the weekend's excitement, I think, and despite the fun I was having, I was beginning to think of the bf and home. Overall, the trip was a hit, and there was talk of doing it again. Can't wait!