A small sign of widened horizons:

The candy bowl at my local bank is nothing but Dum Dums, which product line apparently now includes a dragon fruit flavor.

Years ago, you never would have seen that.

Tastes have globalized.

A life reflection…

…from the (vivacious) and (warm) (Brazilian) wife of the one (older) couple who’ve lived around town for years:

In a college town, people come and go, which is sad, but otherwise you never would have had a chance to meet them.

. . .

(. . .)

Tidbits:

1) The one (older) (white) (townie) bartender at the local brewery was saying that with this one college sport that people love, long-time locals love this one radio commentator so much, and he really is the best, that they often mute their TVs and turn the radio on, so they can hear him describe the game instead of whatever the TV commentators are saying.

2) My cheap generic razor blades that dull quickly heap up in a corner of my open bathroom shelf in the corner of my bathroom, since I’m saving them there to use to strip balled-up fuzzies off my sweaters, in one last act of use before I finally am forced to throw them out.

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.)