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My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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12:11 p.m. - 2003-05-02
So Zee calls around 6:30 last night and asks if I want to meet her at the mall later. She'll be finished with her last client and could be at the mall by 8:00. Filenes was having a terrific house wares sale and she wanted to get some picture frames. Afterward we could grab a bite and catch up. Huh? LEAVE the house at 8:00? Can I do that? Most of my life I was a vampire. The day-centric school hours were painful. If I could have taken night classes in the second grade I would have. I was the only 8 year old in the neighborhood who knew who Johnny Carson was. And in college Drew and I thought nothing of deciding at midnight to go to Austin to do some clubbing. And Austin was an hour's drive from where we lived. Alex was a scarily well behaved little kid and would obligingly fix himself a bowl of cereal in the morning and watch TV or play quietly until I finally dragged my butt out of bed around 11:00. But since the advent of Wolf I've had to become a day creature. If Wolf's up, I'm up. And Wolf in the grand tradition of Dennis the Menace and other rascals is a pre-dawn riser. No lie. I'm getting up now when I used to be just getting around to closing my book and getting some sleep. In the last 5 years I've seen more sunrises than an Army reveille bugler. This constant daylight living has made me almost gun shy about going out after dark. Also it truly never occurs to me to go and do something after dinner. Especially on my own. Mike and I go for drives or the movies, but even then we’re home by 9:30 or so. So to take off last night in the cobalt twilight all alone was awesome. A bit scary, but mostly exhilarating. Imagine! Me, the Queen of the Dawn Patrol vrooming away into the night to meet a friend! Mike was shocked. He frowned and muttered and insisted I take the cell phone. The way he went on you’d think I was a freshly minted 16 year old driver going out on her first solo, instead of a 40 year old grown-up woman who’s logged enough miles behind the wheel to circumnavigate the globe a hundred times over. To tell the truth, he was a bit foshed that I’d “leave” him. Nevermind that he “leaves” me every day and often doesn’t return until late, late. I had the cojones to abandon him and strike out on my own for a whole 3 hours or so. I met up with Zee at Filenes. We groaned and drooled over the dishes and glassware, we’re both fools for table settings. I have more sets of dishes than even strictly orthodox Jews who keep kosher and Zee isn’t far behind me. We were good though, the only purchase was the picture frames she came in for in the first place. I thought of the two china cabinets at home, both full to bursting, and my new tiny house and dragged myself away from the Fiesta Ware before I did something foolish. We hopped back into our cars and drove around to the other side of the mall. No, we’re not THAT lazy. We just didn’t want to get trapped on the wrong side of the mall if our meal at Ruby Tuesdays went on past mall hours. Neither of us fancied a 2 mile hike in the dark. It’s a truism among wait staff that women diners are lousy tippers. With some notable exceptions (see: “You want some humiliation with your fries?” 04-26-2002 in my archive for details) I haven’t found this to be true. But nobody informed our waitress of the fallacy. Seeing two unaccompanied women she rolled her eyes and was barely civil while we placed our orders. She slapped our food on the table with an unsmiling grunt and marched away blithely ignoring our requests for a few napkins and some ketchup. I finally got up and helped myself from the wait station. However the men at the adjacent table were gushed over and she practically gave them lap dances. She was at their table with refills before they had taken sips of the first round and yet Zee and I were doing everything short of setting our heads on fire to get more drinks. Our glasses stood empty so long they got dusty before the girl finally brought us replacements. So I ask you, which came first, crappy service or poor tips? Don’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Aside from the surly waitress, I had a nice time last night. Saw my friend. Had some laughs. Reminded my husband I’m a person in her own right and not some unpaid domestic here at his beck and call, LA the House Elf. And I actually used my car’s headlights! Whoo. Today’s Pick: “Oh How I Hate To Get Up In The Morning” by Irving Berlin
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