So, when do I get my own Spanish-language soap opera?

Ding ding ding!  We have a winner!!  Rachel S, since you were the only one to correctly guess that I referred to my new co-worker, Tarrel, as an ass hat, you have won the delicious prize of peanut brittle!  This will be presented at a prestigious prize-winning ceremony that will take place...um...whenever I see you next!  Yes, it will be very special, just you wait.

Things have been very hectic lately, lots of running around and trips to Albany two weekends in a row.  We got to see several members of Dave's family, including his grandparents, mom, aunt, uncle and cousin.  Games of clue, diving lessons and general shenanigans were enjoyed by all - Dave's mom almost blew-up a clothes dryer!!  Just kidding Sue!  Nothing but love for you here :) (p.s. no lie...as I was typing that out, I started to spell "blew-up" as "bluew-up"...I'm smart!).  Apparently the family are big fans of my blog (who knew I had that many readers?  I kid...), and are particularly fond of the stories where I injure myself.  Ahh...now it makes sense.  Not being one to deprive you of Brooke-safety stories, here we go:

I almost feel a little guilty that I don't have a better clumsiness-induced story for you, but it does involve a scene from the new Brooke & Santiago variety hour, so I'll continue.  As you already know from reading this blog, Santiago isn't, shall we say, so fluent in English.  He speaks enough to get by, and the rest of the time just enjoys saying the same things to me in Spanish over and over again, and then laughing when I tell him I don't know what he's saying.  Then he'll give me a rapid-fire quiz on random Spanish words (Bracelet?  Really?  Why do I need to know how to say bracelet in the kitchen?) and laugh at me when I can't remember any of them.  So one day I was feeling particularly frustrated with him and was going to put the salt and baking powder containers away on his side of the work table.  What I did not know was that he had put one of the dishwasher trays half-way underneath the table.  Only half-way, otherwise what happened next would never have occurred.  I start making my way around his side of the table, holding my containers and as soon as my foot hits the tray, down I go.  Seriously, it was like a tree being cut-down by a miniature lumberjack.  It happened so slowly, but amusingly enough, I didn't drop the salt or baking powder.  Now if I'd been holding an actual baked-good, it would've gone way up in the air and landed upside down on top of my head, but at least that didn't happen.  Not yet anyway.  So yes, I'm lying on the ground at Santiago's feet and he's yelling and literally trying to yank me up off the floor, all the while I'm yelling, "I'm fine!  I'm fine!  Stop pulling me!" but he doesn't understand me...Eventually I got up, but he didn't talk to me for the rest of the day, I think he was so scared I was mad at him.  In the end, I lived to fall another day - Brooke-safety be damned.

I've really been trying to focus and remember when I make a mistake so that it doesn't happen again.  Santiago's been having me make a lot of sponge cakes, and the only problem with this is that when we whip the sugar and eggs in our mixer it rises so much (by whipping air into the eggs you're creating a lot of volume), that when you have to fold in the flour, you literally have to do it by hand.  I want you to picture me should deep in a mixing bowl, because that's essentially what has to happen.  I have to take a bowl scraper in one hand, and while Santiago is adding the flour into the bowl, fold it like a crazy person, practically jumping into the bowl to make sure that it's perfectly incorporated.  The last time I made the batter, the Chef was telling me I had to be more careful next time because he found some flour chunks in the finished cake, so this time I went to town on that batter.  I defy anyone to find any clumps of flour...as a side note, none of my chef's jackets are clean anymore.  Even when I wash them I can't get everything out.   When I make the sponge cake, even though I have my sleeve folded up past my elbow, I still wind up sticking my entire right arm in the sink, drenching it with water and letting it dry while I work the rest of my shift - that's how much batter I get on myself.  Ah, to do what you love ;)

In case you haven't noticed, it's been unbearably hot lately...and I know, I'm the girl who says that anything above 75 degrees is too hot, but seriously?  Temperatures in the late 90's to low 100's day after day when you're standing in an already hot kitchen, inches away from an oven for hours on end?  Let's just say that I am quite the sight to behold at the end of a long shift.  News flash: I've discovered a new walk of shame, it's what happens when you've been sweating in a professional kitchen for 6+ hours in long sleeves and pants and you have to park two blocks away because there aren't any available spots left on your block.  I love walking by fancy people coming home from their office jobs when I look like I just climbed, fully-dressed, out of a pool.  It makes me feel so pretty.

In a related story, you know what else is funny?  Working in a kitchen and then thinking that you can go shoe-shopping afterward.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Funny, right?  I had that brilliant idea the same day that I experienced my walk of shame.  If I wasn't fit to walk down my own street, I certainly wasn't going to be able to walk into a store without being asked to leave on grounds of stinkiness.  But what's a girl to do?  I desperately needed new shoes for a wedding that we were going to (which accounts for our second trip to the magical city of Albany).  I eventually found a cute pair of red flats on the day before we had to leave.

Not bad for $7, right?  They certainly held up great while we danced the night away.  On that note, I want to send a special shout-out to Jenn & Mike.  I believe that you're still on your honeymoon, and I hope you're having a great time in San Diego.  You joked with me at your wedding that you were "stalking" my blog, what you call stalking I call, "love from a distance" - that sounds healthy, right?  Congratulations again, and send me your address when you get back so that I know where to send your chocolate/baked goods care package!