So it was a good vacation, but I’m happy to be back at work. I’m happy to be wherever I am, and if I had a coffee or a drink it would usually be perfect. Friday and Saturday I was busy helping out at the rowing club’s annual fundraiser. They do this open-air restaurant/barbecue/wine/beer thing and I slice things in the kitchen. Meat, onions, horseradish, pickles, tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers I sliced. Not my fingers, unlike some other helpers.

The man in charge of the kitchen has a knife-sharpening fetish. I was very careful.

You’d set a knife down and he’d be all over it. “Here, let me sharpen that.”

I must have sliced my weight in blood sausage.

Sometimes I ran down to the refrigerator truck for more supplies. It had no lighting, so at night it was a problem finding stuff. Have you ever tried to distinguish one sort of ham-like coldcut meat from another lean bacon-like coldcut meat in a refrigerator truck in the dark? I think if you can do it, you are automatically awarded Austrian citizenship.

The first day there was a guy helping out in the kitchen, a total male chauvinist jock. Basically when he didn’t talk sports he talked about his recent bout of food poisoning and how he lost six pounds in a week. And he sliced the onions too thick. When he wasn’t looking, I took his slices out of the dish and sliced them thinner.

My oldest daughter waitressed. She took it very seriously. She did a good job. The last day, Sunday, I had to work somewhere else and just showed up in the evening for some dinner. My youngest daughter had found an apron somewhere and was running around waitressing as well. Six years old. Clearing empty glasses and things. I had her bring me a beer. She demanded a tip.