If you ever read a post about what we cook...

...you know that it most likely involved garlic (except our Indian Taco Truck Burritos). Well, this weekend is the Gilroy Garlic Festival! So this afternoon Matt and I will be driving down to Gilroy (yipee for driving half of your daily commute on the weekend!) to partake in the festival. Even though both of us grew up fairly close to the festival, neither of us has ever been. But I know for one thing, if Gilroy knows anything thing, they know garlic! There was nothing better to put a smile on my face when I was having to drive up to Burlingame than to drive through Gilroy and smell the garlic...mmm...

I was wearing a brown shirt...

... on Saturday when I was leaving to go get my hair cut. I had just gotten back from the gym, and was rushing to shower before the appointment. When I left (with my brown shirt on) Matt was still at home. When I got back (still wearing my brown shirt) Matt wasn't home. About 10 minutes later, he returned from the gym and took a shower. I didn't pay much attention to him. Awhile later, after the shower had been off for about 15 minutes I got up to go talk to him. That's when I saw it, he was wearing a brown shirt! Whatever right? Except his brown shirt was the exact same brown as mine! Not wanting to be one of *those* couples (our pants were a pretty similar shade as well) one of us was going to have to change. And some how it was decided that I, the one who had been wearing her brown shirt for 3 hours, who had already been out in public, was going to have to be the one who changed.

It wouldn't have been that bad if this had been the first time it's happened, but no, it's happened before, and not with the brown shirt! You see, we both have gray chords, and one casual Friday when I was living in PG I wore them to work. That night Matt shows up at my door wearing his! And once again they are wayyyy too close in color to safely be worn out in public by a dating couple, so once again I had to change (that time under the pretense that it was my apartment so I had more to choose from).

In all, I just want to wear my clothes without the risk of being matchy-matchy with Matt!

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Today I ordered a Southwest burger...

...but ended up with a blue cheese burger. Eh. The blue cheese burger was good, but when you are thinking of all that jack, bacon, guacamole, excellence all combined in your mouth, it falls short. I know I could have sent it back, but it was crowded and I would have felt weird. It got me thinking though, when is it appropriate to send things back? I mean, they were in the wrong. I clearly (read with an emphasis on the 'ear') ordered the Southwest burger, they even said "Southwest burger?" when they brought it to us, but once I bit in I knew they were wrong. Of course, if I were allergic, hated, or had some other extreme reason as to why I shouldn't eat what is in front of me I would say something. But usually once it's in front of me I leave it be. I don't send back steak that is under cooked (and never over cooked, I mean, what could they do with that?) but I know I have the right to. And I also know that I should. If I don't, what is to prevent that from happening again?

I think about this in comparison to my job. Customers request something from me and I provide it to them. If I don't provide them exactly what they requested they would 'send it back' (this of course ignores the fact that I would not have a job if I didn't give the customers what they wanted...but go with me on this one.) So why don't I ever send food back?

Or, light bulb moment!, if I ordered something online and they sent me the wrong thing, guess what I would do? Yup, I'd send it back! But again, not with the food.

Anyways, I think the reason is two-fold. The first being that I don't want to wait any longer. I waited to get seated, I waited to order my drink, I waited for my drink, I waited to order my food, and I waited for my food. The last thing I want to do is wait for the waiter (ha, pun!) to come by and ask how my food is so that I can complain that it wasn't right and send it back. Do you know what that would get me? More of a wait! And besides, I hate eating alone, so that would provide some awkward time where my company has their food and we're waiting for my food to be corrected.

The second reason is that it is such a waste of food. I know that once that food has touched my table it isn't getting placed anywhere besides the garbage. I learned this at a Red Robin at a young age (this is also the time I learned that you could not sit at the bar unless you were over 21, NO MATTER WHAT even if you are 8 and with both of your parents, who I might add, were over 21). We ordered our food around the same time the table behind us did. The waiter came out with the food, put it on our table and then realized it was actually the other tables order. The waiter picked up the food, took it over to the table, and my God, that father at the other table had a hissy fit because "THAT FOOD TOUCHED THEIR TABLE AND THIS IS UNSANITARY!". Anyways, I don't know the validity of that, but ever since then I imagine that they are going to throw away my untouched burger before considering giving it to the homeless man behind the dumpster.

And that is another thing I don't understand, I mean the guy is just going to dig through the dumpster later to get it, so why not be nice and give it to him before, oh say, it doesn't sit in a pile of garbage. Some of you might think that this is an ignorant statement, and I am generalizing the homeless population and ignoring the true issues at hand, but truth be told, I've witnessed this happening more times than not. I have seen countless homeless people dig through trashcans in Berkeley and pull from them discarded to-go containers only to precede to  eat the contents. So yes this happens, yes its bad, and that is why I am saying that if I knew this discarded, incorrectly placed on my table, burger would go to a homeless person I wouldn't feel as bad about sending it back. But it doesn't, so I eat it.

So there you have it. My unprofessional assessment of why I don't send my food back.

Completely unrelated, halfway through this post Maddie came by and demanded my attention. I think she wanted me to mention her on this blog that is suppose to be about a girl and her cat. So as I promised her, here is her shout out!

This is she...

...or I am her? I have an appointment to get my hair cut on Saturday. They called me today to remind me about my appointment. This usually never happens because I hardly ever get my hair cut. Ever since I left Santa Rosa, and thus left Marsha as my stylist, I've had such a hard time bringing myself to do anything with my hair. Well maybe it's not so much that I don't trust others to cut my hair (highlighting is a different story which is why I am now a half and half swirl) but more so that mommy doesn't pay any more :-). This would also explain why I only ever really get my hair cut on vacation...hmm...

Anyways, back on track. Today the salon called to confirm my appointment for 10:45 on Saturday. They asked for Miranda. I don't even remember what I said, but it got me thinking. When I am at work I always answer the phone "Hello, this is Miranda". It's suppose to be "Company Name, this is Miranda" but because I don't know the difference between my internal and external ringers, it just feels silly to answer an internal call (which a majority of mine are, by the way) with "Company Name, this is Miranda", so I stick to a simple "Hello, this is Miranda." I mean, really I even feel silly with the whole "this is Miranda" thing, because they are calling me, at my extension, so they should know who I am. And besides, we have a switch board which 1. confirms I don't need "Company Name" in my greeting, because the switch board already says that, and 2. I don't need my name because the caller either needs to ask for my extension or for me directly by name. The only time they wouldn't know my name is if they had the wrong extension, and thus weren't trying to get a hold of me anyways, or they are internal and dialed the wrong extension. But whatever, these decisions are not up to me, and I was told that no matter what, at the least I need to answer with "Hello, this is Miranda" so that is what I do.

But not on my personal phone! Never! I would feel so silly saying "Hello, this is Miranda" when I pick up my cell phone. I mean come on. So on these rare occasions when someone calls about confirming an appointment or whatever and asks for Miranda I never know how to respond. Do I say, 'This is her." or do I say, "I am she"? I think I tend more towards the "This is her," but there is something weird about seeing it typed out because I realize that the whole "This is her" this is in the third person. I don't usually talk about myself in the third person.

So there you have it. This is what was running through my head as I bobbed up and down on the elliptical this evening.

And so it begins...

...again, and about 3 months late. I believe my last post was about packing, but yet I never posted about the reults. Rest asured blog readers (mom and Matt) that I did finish packing, moving, and unpacking. Although I'm pretty certain you were aware of that.

In other news, this is a pretty substantual-less blog, nothing of importance other than announcing my return (most likely followed by my recurring absence). On a positive for this blog note however, I do have a blogger app for my Evo 4G so maybe I'll be posting more during my non-driving days in carpool. That also means posts riddled with huge spelling and grammatical errors...

Maybe I'll be back later to catch up on the back log of posts. But then again, maybe not.

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