My dog Pig. She don't get up early for no one. 

Me, in all my late-night glory. 

Moms, Taiwanese & Mr. Magoo

So I still haven't gotten this rising at the crack thing down yet. I've been at this for about 3 years now (not counting the previous 20 years of living with the biz) and I still have a difficult time not destroying my alarm clock in the morning. I think I hit snooze 6 times today. I don't get it; I went to bed by 11 pm last night. I shouldn't have had any trouble getting up at 6 am but instead, I ended up rolling out of bed in a rush at 6.41. Apparently I need more sleep to deal with life.

Last night we had some Taiwanese people. Very nice, but no English speakers except for one. Makes me wonder what it must be like for them to be here. I wonder if there's a different level of confusion for them here than for Westerners who go to Taiwan. I seem to think there are more billboards in English there than there are in Taiwanese here. I'd think they'd at least be more used to western language characters than we are to theirs. Well, I got one of them to play the super out of tune piano, and that was cool. I can't play for shit because my fingers are too short.

The boss came back to work today and managed to piss me off as usual. It's very hard to work with your own mother and not get pissed off sometimes. It's also hard to hide the argument we're having when simultaneously entertaining the guests at the breakfast table when all you want to rip each other's heads off. It makes me understand what must have been going on when I was a wee Cyd. I'd be ready to head off to school and need my mom to sign a field trip permission form or some such nonsense. It would usually take about 10 minutes for me to get her attention to sign the form. This was because I had to tear her away from the breakfast table conversation in order to get my stuff done. I think I definitely resented her a lot of the time for that, when I now realize it was just her doing her job. Charming people, keeping the conversation flowing, it's hard work, and it must be done at a b&b to help people fall in love with the magic of the place. I mean, it's all we've got compared to a hotel. Well, I can't fault her for it now, especially since I have to do the same stuff, but I also know it still really irks me when I'm talking to

Today's Breakfast & Name Recollection

Made Blackberry Jam Muffins today with Coddled Eggs, Biscuits & Fresh Fruit. Everybody seems to like it, but they're having a hard time keeping the conversation going. One of the coolest things about staying at a bed & breakfast is that there's a big variety in the guests who might turn up at the breakfast table. Today we've got two older couples touring the area, another couple looking for real estate, an American physicist who insists he has an American passport but a British accent, and a totally white trash(I know, harsh, but true) couple that seems to be in love with me. I really have no idea how this last couple interacts with people on a regular basis, but they stayed here last year and apparently I was so good at taking care of them that they returned and constantly mention my hospitality skills. I guess that's a good thing overall, but they totally don't belong here and I tried to tell them that everything was booked for the dates they were looking for only to have them try other dates, and I just coudn't possibly be full every day in the summer. That would be crazy and insulting. So they're here. Luckily they won't be eating with (or scaring) other people today.

Today the life of the innkeeper is a dull one. Gotta file a bunch of things I've been putting off filing, gotta return some tables to their owners, pick up a scrip for the boss and drop off the dry cleaning.

And now, today's little story of strange happenings at the B&B. I meet and talk to over 50 people daily. Remembering names and faces has become a skill that I can only seem to keep going for 2, 3 days tops. Two summers ago I had a couple stay here for the weekend. I don't remember their names, but let's call the chick Denise. Denise comes up to me during her last breakfast, pulls me aside on the auspices of the table needing more milk, but takes the opportunity to thank me.

Denise: "Cyd, I just wanted to tell you how amazlng this weekend was!"
Me: (Thinking, you make your own fun, I just give you a place to fuck) "Great!"
Denise: "No, I don't think you understand. My husband and I got together about 8 years ago. At the time, we were both married to other people and when his wife found out she attacked me and bit off my finger and things have never been the same until this weekend!"
Me: "Which finger?"

It turns out Denise wears a prosthetic pinky! She also has really long fingers and the fake pinky starts almost at her hand. I can only think she either did something really special with that pinky, or the attack just ripped something inside of her to make things between the philanderers different. But apparently, I helped them with that. Fast forward to about 6 months later and I get a call from her.

Denise: "Hi Cyd, it's me, Denise! We want to come back to the inn since we had such a good time."
Me: "Who? I'm sorry, I don't remember a lot of names."
Denise: "You know, the finger lady!"

That got me right back to it. So now I still remember her as the finger lady and still don't remember her name.