Tidbits from my new job…

…at the (Irish-y) burger joint on the first floor of a historic hotel where I now work

1) “How are you doing?”, the one (big personality) (redheaded) (Irish-American) owner was like to me, wanting to know how my training was going.

And, she affirmed again that however long it took was fine, to take time and train more if you need it, but she was just checking in to see how it was going.

2) In the back dining room, this group of (old) (white) farmer people are having a larger (birthday?) celebration, and at the end of the meal someone breaks out several large white baker’s cartons filled with specially-made sugar cookies frosted to resemble cow’s heads.

3) “You’re [woman’s first name ending in -ie]’s son?!”, some customer asks my one (white) (young) (gay-ish) (ponytailed) coworker, who grew up a town over.

Automatic smiles.

A few months ago a(n old grad school friend) who now works in (film and TV production) was in the area for one-time event work, and we had coffee at my place on his first full day in town and then coffee again the next day before he left to go home.

And, as is often the case, he is an eccentric depressive about the state of the world and how it’s getting darker.

“That might be true,” I was like, “But you have to remember -- -- -- Luigi!”

And, as soon as I said that, he just automatically broke out in just the biggest, biggest genuine smile, the thought of Luigi warmed his heart so much.

Several other times during that visit, too, when he was getting that way, I’d be like, “But, Luigi!”, and it just brought out a smile every time, it just never, ever failed.

Rendezvous.

Last weekend, my one (chubby) (Thai) ex-coworker texted me out of the blue that she wanted to bring me this new special dish from the (Thai) restaurant where I used to work before it disappeared from the menu, her treat.

And, she specified that she could meet me either that day or the next on her break, and I said that day, and so we arranged to meet in front of the local library, and I also told her that I had saved $25.75 in quarters for her, since she always saves them up for her coin-operated washer and dryer where she lives.

As I walked up the street, then, what do I see but her coming from the opposite direction on an electric bike, and we wave at each other and she pulls over in front of the library and gets up off of her bike and stands next to it as I cross over from the other side of the street to come meet her, and we hug each other and then she hands me a bagged parcel with the food and I pull out a Ziploc bag of quarters to give her, as she makes change for me from a billfold that she pulls out of her pocket or from her purse or wherever.

And, she starts to laugh and,is like, "We look like drug people," she observes.

Some bunny mayhem this week:

I'm out in the yard strolling back from the front porch and just gazing at all of the plants that are sprouting, when over by the fence I see a clump of stalks gnawed down almost right down to the very base, with only one ragged leaf left on one and tilted over to the side a bit, since a large part of it had gotten bent down, somehow.

. . .

 (I texted a picture to the one [lesbian] sister of my one [former] [assisted living-client] with [disabilities], and she said that bunnies love young hostas.)

Addendum.

After getting those flowers for her 80th birthday, my mother decided to stop by the local flower shop and tell the people there what a good job they did with them.

And, they told her thanks, and they also said that I was "very precise" in saying what I wanted for her.

I wonder if they really meant it, that I was somehow more exact in describing what she likes and what I wanted than most customers are, or if that's just something that they just always say in those situations to make the gift seem more personal, since they are in fact the skilled people assembling the flowers on behalf of me for money, after all.

Birthday present.

For my mother's 80th birthday, I got flowers delivered to her.

It was $80 for a decent arrangement and delivery, but, your mother only turns 80 once!

"I'm thinking something colorful and cheery," the lady on the phone was like, when I placed the order.

"Colorful is good," I was like, "But she hates cute. Something more elegant."

"So, that makes me think Bridgerton..," the lady on the phone was like.

"Ooh," I was like, "That's too overdone, more elegant and simple." 

"Okay," the lady was like. 

And, the people at the flower shop said that the drop-off would be between 11 and 2, so I made sure to call at 3 and wish her a happy birthday, only, she wasn't aware of any flowers, so I told her what I did and that I was confused, and she went out on the front porch and there they were sitting there.

And, she had been in town earlier that day and she came in and out of the house through the garage and plus my dad doesn't hear knocks on the door, so that's probably what happened.

And, when I called the next day, too, she told me that when she was spending time in different rooms in the house like her sewing room where she makes quilts, she'd bring the flowers with her, so they'd be there with her while she did things and she could look at them.

A new note-taking strategy for blogposts…

…since sometimes I can’t later remember the anecdotes where I jot down phrases to evoke them, even though I think at the time that I’ll be able to from the short phrases that seem so evocative and essential at the time:

I write down the person’s actual name and proper noun circumstances etc. in the short note, and just remove them in the write-up.

. . .

(Obvious in retrospect – why didn’t I think of that earlier?)

. . .

(Now the big problem is my penmanship, occasionally, although I'm trying to write in larger letters now, which helps some.)