I discovered two things working in the kitchen at work today: black sea salt is amazing and I must buy some immediately and dishwashers are underpaid and overworked. Back in college when I worked in food services I overcame my phobia for other people’s germs by working several shifts as a dishwasher but those days are a distant memory. I have a new respect for dishwashers and exotic salt.

Because of two kitchen workers being out sick today we got the all call for help. I gladly volunteered; my desk job keeps me too sedentary and, hey, I get a free lunch. I started on the buffet line, mopping up after salad dressing spills and replacing food. One of the cooks was sprinkling a black, crystalline spice on the pizzas. When I asked her what it was, she told me black sea salt and to sniff the bag it was in. It had a roasted, smokey aroma, not unlike barbeque. Just a little gave the pizza a tad of salty, smokey goodness. Oh my.

After a half hour on the buffet line I noticed the dishes piling up and went back to help. Not knowing what to do but eventually getting a crash course from the other volunteer I spent 90 minutes washing dishes. Thankfully I wore jeans and my clogs…after a while I dug up some thick, rubber gloves that went up to my elbows. I could’ve passed for a veterinarian on a horse farm.

At one o’clock, the second shift dishwasher named Angela came in and I got even more guidance: the bin the cutlery goes in needs more water, the trays get washed this way, keep spraying the dirty stacks so the food doesn’t harden on. Nothing mind-boggling but she made the job much easier. By two we had knocked out the looming stacks of dirty dishes and I finally got to enjoy that pizza. In a little while I was back at my desk feeling pretty wiped out, my shirt still soaked where I got splashed pulling a stack of dirty dishes into the sink (gotta keep ‘em wet) but I felt good.

The full time dishwasher who was out sick is named David and he recently received his Buddhist monkhood. David loves being a dishwasher and for those 90 minutes I could see why: steady, steamy, service oriented work is good for a person. I’m sure I’ll sleep well tonight at least once I get that black sea salt out of my mind.

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Synopsis

February 8, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

Last week I learned that I was a finalist in the Austin Chronicle short story contest. Frankly, I didn’t believe it. I don’t write much fiction and although I sent the story off in good faith (it was “pretty good” I thought, but written for young adults) I wasn’t surprised when the deadline for announcing winners came and went and I wasn’t notified.When I got the call two days later at work I walking on air all afternoon. Grounding myself as I walked the labyrinth, I thought “I am thankful” all of the way in.

Being in the top ten out of 400 manuscripts was awesome enough but we were all invited to the awards ceremony last night where the top five would be announced. I didn’t win an honor except that I got to hear from the editor of the Chronicle that this was his favorite year so far in terms of the quality of the stories. Three of the women from my writing circle and two other friends were there and I was so happy to see them show support. I am thankful they came.

The top three writers read their stories. The first was my favorite of the three (a young girl is sexually abused while listening to a sermon). In a nutshell, the second was about a Japanese soldier with descriptions of dismemberment and the first about the relationship between a man and his son and eating shit. Considering the graphic nature of the top three I’m surprised the judges liked my little story about a homeless family in 1977. It is the first chapter in the fictionalized rewrite of my non-linear memoir and I would print it here but I may want to submit it in other contests so it needs to remain unpublished. I am thankful for being a finalist because it has reignited my interest in finishing the novel.

So now I’m working on the synopsis, the outline of the entire book. I am finding this process extremely enjoyable. There are so many things I can do with this story that I couldn’t do with my memoir. I am finding cool connections and constructing a story which I think would be a compelling read for young adults. The thing I’m learning in the process is how to construct a novel and create interesting lead characters by taking them through various arcs of development. Along with writing this novel over the next six months I hope to keep up with my poetry, some of which you’ll find here (thank you for reading).

tapping rain—
there are so many words
we do not say

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not talking

February 3, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

not talking about our dreams
they rise over our heads,
meet like palms
shaking, one a light squeeze
the other knuckle-white

amazing artist friends

blogroll

for fun

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Archive for February 2007

a woman

memorial

windy day

called

writing joke

Dishwashing

Synopsis

not talking

hunger moon