Sushi Confessional

I was going to be cutting it close by stopping for lunch before MD appointment but remembered sushi place on north side of town that I used to eat at pretty often and not only had food always been good but service was very quick so I exited off interstate and pulled into parking lot.

The bar itself only had one customer although several tables were filled. I waited a couple of minutes before hostess/waitress pointed me to the bar. In fitting with one of Murphy's Laws the one time I was in a hurry the service was dreadfully slow but finallhy the sushi chef noticed I was about to leave and called for a waitress and things seemed to finally be moving along. Soon I had my sushi/shashimi combo in front of me, plus a salad, soup, and bowl of rice. By now I didn't have time to eat all of it so I focused on the fish and soup. The chef had a bit of a break now so came over to ask how the food one. I stuck my thumb up while swallowing a last morsel of tuna and replied that it was excellent. She wrinkled her nose a bit and said, "I only eat it one or two times a year. Never cared for raw fish, prefer McDonalds or Checkers." My jaw dropped and I blurted out (forgetting to use my inside voice) "You don't like sushi?!?!" Suddenly her English became broken and she shook her head, "I not speak much English good, don't understand". I felt badly if I had blown some deep secret for her but also made a mental note to stick to the Japanese restaurants on my side of town and stick to topics like politics, religion and sports with sushi chefs but never ever ask if they like fish.

Happy Birthday Mom

My Mom turned 77 over the weekend. I took she and Dad out for dinner Sat evening. Her favorite, shrimp. She looks great although both of them now have hearing aids and poor Dad's back is bothering him again. Looking at Dad now is not the same as even a decade ago. He made his living through physical labor and that that strength is obviously not what it used to be. So he hesitates now in conversations, especially around people who are not his family. (C & son went with me to meet them) He is polite, as always but not wanting to offend, he withdraws. Also even with the hearing aid the backround noise in the restaurant bothered him some. He later found a phone book and looked up a guy he used to work in the garage with 30+ years ago before we moved. The guy is dieing of cancer. Everyone Dad knows seems to be dead or dieing. His silence grew.
Mom has always enjoyed learning, reading, solving puzzles, playing Scrabble, engaging others in conversation. Ironically Dad was always the more outgoing but then again I always remember him either with family, at church, or at his work, all of which defined him. Mom does not speak as much as Dad in church, or even with his family, but she lights up when it is the immediate family or even with friends. I know they love each other, have been devoted to each other for most of their lives now. They have always been affectionate around us, never heard them argue once until I was an adult and that was just about Dad following (or not) too closely. They seemed ideal for each other. Still, as I gave Mom her flowers, card, balloon, and gifts I tried to think of any flowers or gifts Dad had brought her. There had been dinners, but I don't know if he had ever picked out a gift on his own for her. He would usually have one of my sisters pick out something. The one time I went with him to get Mom's gift was when he bought her a sewing machine. (Which in his defense we needed at the time and she did want one. But even at that young age I knew that was not what anyone wanted for their brithday)

The good, the bad, the ugly

Even though it has been over four years now it still only takes the slightest thing to send me hurling back into the post-L funk. H forwarded me an email she received from her x husband. They have been divorced for at least three years, it was nasty, there were things said between them that cut deep, economic threats made, worries about whether personal effects would ever be returned or posted on line as a means of revenge. As H's long time friend and confidante I should be happy they have reached a point where they can be civil, exchange e-mail, phone calls, even have dinner together every once in a while and the fact they do these things really doesn't bother me. It is simply jealousy. Why is my friend's x, able to have a conversation with her, share thoughts, ideas, concerns, maybe even just gossip about mutual acquaintances while I have heard nothing from L since she took the ring and ran. It is self pity, I know that. And it is still a wound. A kindred spirit, best of friends, closest of loves, promises of tomorrow, all gone and only the echo of my "why?" still sounding in my ears.

What is worse is that for over two years now I've been in another relationship. It has had bumps, there were a couple of months we didn't speak, there are still times when it seems strained and my focus should be on it. And (in my defense) mostly it is... but then one email from an old friend, whose wounds have healed reminds me that I am not. And that I am not as good a friend as I should be, or the only thing I would feel would be happy for her. Guess I still have room for quite a bit of improvement.

(plus it is V-Day)

work & reward

Work
the ivy is off of the lattice
the basement is junk, dust, & cobweb free.
the office is presentable and files are updated
carpet is vacuummed, clothes washed & dried

Reward
legs are sore from bike ride
stomach is still arguing with me about trip to favorite Hot Dog joint, but it was worth it.

Tomorrow at the office? Not going to worry about that until 7:30 AM

kyrptonite

No!!! Must clean house. Must not give in to bright sunshine and take bike out for ride. Must focus!!! Can feel my will weakening, hear the siren call of the UV rays as they smash against the window pane. Must not given in.... must clear garage out and overcome arch enemy Dust!

just wondering

What if one bad apple does spoil the whole bunch?

Don't Vote Here

At lunch I knew I was in trouble. The computers had crashed so I took AP to lunch, anticipating a bite of pizza but when the waiter mentioned the tilapia special I opted for that. Big mistake which I have been paying for most of the afternoon. It really hit me on the bus home but got back to the car and headed off to vote. They had 11 machines available in the school gym but because only one lady was checking IDs only two or three were being utilized at one time. She seemed to take a bit longer with my card, (C would say it is the beard that causes these untrusting glances) and seemed reluctant to send me on to the next booth, where, after standing in line for 40 minutes I was told was exactly not where I was supposed to be. Evidently the county had created a new voting spot, a church that was all of two miles down the road. It was 6:22 and I had to park about a half mile away along the side of the two lane road. The man in front of me was beaming that this was his first chance to vote, two of his kids were electing to ignore his instructions/pleas to not continuously dash across the parking lot and his wife tried several times, unsuccessfully, to corral them with a motherly glare that was laughable compared to my Mom. The results were certainly less successful than my Mom's. Once inside, after filling out a second card, I ended up behind a lady who was suffering from a very severe case of hiccups. I considered trying to frighten her by telling her that come November one of these candidates was going to end up being elected President (not one of them specifically just the fact that these were the ones we have to choose from), but I passed on that. (any joke you have to explain is not a good one. See preceding sentence for perfect example.) The clock tower chimed seven times as I exited the polls, having handed my card to elderly gentlemen who seemed puzzled at what the yellow cards were for. Every other election I've voted in they had a box with a slit where the ballot or card goes, this time it was a Tupperware bowl (I don't know how to create the TM symbol so hopefully no legal issue there) guarded by a dozing man who may or may not have been an election official at the Lincoln v Douglas debates.

I hiked back down the road in the dark to my car and finally made my way home. Will my single vote make the difference in my state election? No. Will Grandpa know what to do with the yellow whatchamcallits; I hope so. I have become a bit of a cynic on a lot of things the last few years but voting is still one of the most wonderful experiences in life. Hope you voted... but only once.