So I started at a new restaurant last week. Not a new "Concept," but a new one of my old ones...you know what I mean.

Starting new is, well, uncomfortable. It's like getting involved with a new someone that you know ahead of time is going to extract a little bit of your soul from you. And still, I venture on.

In my business, or any I guess, you go where they send you or you go away. It's a little tough out there job wise, so I went with the going. The location I was sent to is nice, top five in the company, but it adds substantial travel time, and then there is the "new guy" syndrome.

Nobody really likes the new guy. It's like he smells like yesterday's tuna; strong and ever present.

Add to the "new guy" stench being the new boss and the olfactory glands start screaming. I always pay careful attention to those perma scowls that greet me on the way in. I guess people pee on their territory in a myriad of ways. Peeing on me never gets too far.

People should try to understand that being the new guy, much less the new boss is as daunting as being the ones subjected to said tuna stench. You think I like the smell any better than you?

I take comfort in knowing that much like the couple who buys the house next to La Guardia, these people to will eventually say, "What?" Noise and smells take some getting used to, but they generally blend into the background if they hang around long enough.

My oldest got caught lying to her mom about talking to a boy on the phone and was grounded for two weeks. Her mother called me to tell me as much and asked for my support when my daughter comes over to my house (you're following, right). She also told me that during the confrontation she may have referred to me as stupid once or twice. I giggled a bit, but kept the uncomfortable silence as elongated as possible. Only my wife gets to freely call me stupid...after a couple Grey Goose on the rocks.

I find it interesting that I am not as restrictive as my ex-wife about this whole talking on the phone to boys thing. She lets my 12-year old daughter wear mascara and lipstick, but keep the boys away from that talky thing. There is some type of disconnect there, but what do I know, I'm stupid.

Our Halloween pumpkins finally went by the way of motorized lift and dump this morning. I'm sure that if I could smell them they would have been ripe (I know, no smell and then with the tuna analogy right?). They got all hairy and gnat infested, and that was the most bothersome thing to me. Pumpkins and their carving take a lot of care. There is this whole "soak in water" process to keep them plump and vivacious. I don't take that much time to groom myself, much less preserve a pumpkin. Glad it's only once a year.

Well, I should sleep. I have a four hour turn around and I wouldn't want to disappoint Ms Perma scowl.

Toodles!