Worked yesterday, serving brunch to well-heeled country club members and their pastel-clad children. Serving children for the first time wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated; it helps that they don't drink coffee (or decaf, or tea). Also, I had older kids, not the babies who squalled and cried and threw buffet food all over the dining room. Teenage boys at buffets, however, require a lot of bussing because they're hungry and go up to the food table, like, 14 times.

I still had a better job than whoever was in the Easter Bunny suit. Small children alternately hugged him/her with glee and posed cutely for parental pictures, or ran away screaming. There was also a bunny ice sculpture by the buffet tables. Lordy.

You've got to wonder about anyone for whom being a waiter/ess is too large a committment, so they must *temp* as a waiter/ess. Before this job, I'd never known people who lived in boarding houses. "Running from something," Rick suggested. I replied, "Or can't get their shit together." I wonder which I am. Maybe a bit of both.

Two phone calls yesterday after work. First, the husband of one of my old friends called to say her mother had died. Then, my friend who'd been overdue pregnant called to say the eagle had landed. I know when one door closes another opens, but the symbolism isn't usually so blatant.

The guy accused of killing a cop in my hometown, on a street corner about halfway between the houses of two of my high school friends, has been shot to death himself. The dead cop was Fair Lawn's first female police officer and, according to my parents, was reputed to be a nice person on and off duty. I presume the town is now suffering from Things Like This Don't Happen Here syndrome. But of course, they do.

Spam subject of the day: "My mom goes anal." I am so nostalgic for my early days on the Internet when I wanted every piece of mail that came into my box.

Lots of work to do before I leave for the funeral. Back later in the week.