Regrets, white lies and other death defying sins.
I hate that all the brilliant ideas I have at lunch while reading a book on someone else's ideas are gone when I come and sit at the computer.
Confidentially, a pet peeve on mine, is all those really good writers who tell us to write down all those ideas so when we get to the computer we have them handy.
Truth is I don't remember seeing anyone jotting down brilliant ideas at lunch when I'm lunching and reading and wishing I had something to write on.
Maybe that is because all the really good writers have been published and now famous and only go to the fancy places that I don't frequent.
Regardless, it is still a pet peeve.
I know peeve should not be petted.
The very act of petting a peeve is to enhance it's hold on me.
But, there is a since of ownership that is also stroked when you admit you have a pet peeve.
And ownership is a good thing, so sometimes I just stoke my pet peeves to prove I'm real.
Sunny waited on me at a recent lunch in Louisiana.
It was in the middle of the afternoon.
The place was empty.
I had to seek to find her in the first place and ask if they were serving.
Sunny is tall and thin and black with perfect hair and a smile that is...
well sunny, go figure.
"Sure" she said.
"Where shall I sit?" I said.
"Anyplace.
" She said.
I picked an empty booth near the front.
Of course they were all empty, but I like space and isolation, (I may be a little claustrophobic?) just in case others would flood in and surround my island of retreat in the empty restaurant.
Sunny disappeared behind a waiter's blind for the longest time.
I started reading my book and instantly regretted not have a notebook to jot ideas down.
Here she comes.
All slinky and confident walking like a model with one foot just in front of the other.
I was tempted to ask if she was a model, but dismissed that thought.
It would sound flirtatious no matter how hard I tried to sound sincere.
She was maybe 22 and I'm 102, so if I was to ask such a question would be the guffaw of the wait staff, might even spread to the bartenders or cooks, and I would hear it and instantly know how ridiculous I would feel if it was determined I was flirting with Sunny.
I would like to think that I could flirt with her and it would be charming, and for an instant I thought it would really be something if it would be taken seriously.
I really only wanted to appear clever.
I like clever people.
Occasionally I am clever and people notice, but then I go on too long and the cleverness fades.
Sunny's hair was perfect too.
I chalked that up to a wig.
A really good wig.
If you are going to wear a wig, wear a really good one!She brought water with lemon and a straw before asking.
I thought that was clever.
I also thought it was a little presumptive because I'm not suppose to have lemon or citrus because of my sensitive stomach that I nearly blew a hole in with gin when I was a lush in the 70's.
She was captivating except I would not be captivated.
I wear my Christian shirt everywhere I go, so I know I better not get caught being captivated by a slinky waitress.
I guess you could say I wear my Christianity on my sleeve.
I concentrated on being nonchalant as she asked if I wanted something else to drink and she handed me the menu.
I did order some sunny-flavored tea.
Sunny asked if I needed more time to peruse the one page, one of those cleverly written menus, with stuff like smashed tomatoes and Atkins tri-fecta.
I said no, I was ready to order, and she seemed annoyed because she was not in any hurry to do anything.
I think she may have been raised in the Bahamas where the only one in a hurry is me when I get there.
What she did not know, or care to know, is that I had made my decision before I even came in.
They had a menu taped to the window by the door which was a clever idea since it worked.
Well, just good business, not really all that clever.
Lots of restaurants do that.
Immediately after I ordered I regretted ordering the Atkin's tri-fecta.
Most combos are a mistake, and this one was.
Salmon, beef tenderloin, and chicken.
Surf and turf and fowl.
Nothing would be fresh.
I hate when I order something in a hurry and regret it and then too ashamed to admit I want to change my order.
That would make a terrible impression on the waitress, and I always want to make a good impression.
Ordering the wrong thing is just the same as eating at a restaurant, then walking out of the restaurant and seeing another restaurant you wished you ate at.
When Sunny came slinking back with the lunch my fears were confirmed; this was a bad choice.
But, of course when she asked if everything was all right I said something brilliant like, "Oh, just great.
"It was not great.
It was just, just.
Don't you think the waitresses all know when the meal is great?They must get together behind their little waiters blind and snicker over all the customers who say, Oh it's great, just great!Most meals are not great.
Some are.
Some are really great.
But most, are just, well just.
I never said anything to Sunny about her model like walk or her slow confident manner, or her sunny smile.
I knew a crack about a sunny smile would come out trite, so I just sign the credit card bill and wrote; "may God bless you dramatically.
"I really like that phrase, and hope she did too.
It is really clever, and I wanted her to think I was really clever.
What if I get to heaven and see Sunny because God does bless her dramatically?
I hate that all the brilliant ideas I have at lunch while reading a book on someone else's ideas are gone when I come and sit at the computer.
Confidentially, a pet peeve on mine, is all those really good writers who tell us to write down all those ideas so when we get to the computer we have them handy.
Truth is I don't remember seeing anyone jotting down brilliant ideas at lunch when I'm lunching and reading and wishing I had something to write on.
Maybe that is because all the really good writers have been published and now famous and only go to the fancy places that I don't frequent.
Regardless, it is still a pet peeve.
I know peeve should not be petted.
The very act of petting a peeve is to enhance it's hold on me.
But, there is a since of ownership that is also stroked when you admit you have a pet peeve.
And ownership is a good thing, so sometimes I just stoke my pet peeves to prove I'm real.
Sunny waited on me at a recent lunch in Louisiana.
It was in the middle of the afternoon.
The place was empty.
I had to seek to find her in the first place and ask if they were serving.
Sunny is tall and thin and black with perfect hair and a smile that is...
well sunny, go figure.
"Sure" she said.
"Where shall I sit?" I said.
"Anyplace.
" She said.
I picked an empty booth near the front.
Of course they were all empty, but I like space and isolation, (I may be a little claustrophobic?) just in case others would flood in and surround my island of retreat in the empty restaurant.
Sunny disappeared behind a waiter's blind for the longest time.
I started reading my book and instantly regretted not have a notebook to jot ideas down.
Here she comes.
All slinky and confident walking like a model with one foot just in front of the other.
I was tempted to ask if she was a model, but dismissed that thought.
It would sound flirtatious no matter how hard I tried to sound sincere.
She was maybe 22 and I'm 102, so if I was to ask such a question would be the guffaw of the wait staff, might even spread to the bartenders or cooks, and I would hear it and instantly know how ridiculous I would feel if it was determined I was flirting with Sunny.
I would like to think that I could flirt with her and it would be charming, and for an instant I thought it would really be something if it would be taken seriously.
I really only wanted to appear clever.
I like clever people.
Occasionally I am clever and people notice, but then I go on too long and the cleverness fades.
Sunny's hair was perfect too.
I chalked that up to a wig.
A really good wig.
If you are going to wear a wig, wear a really good one!She brought water with lemon and a straw before asking.
I thought that was clever.
I also thought it was a little presumptive because I'm not suppose to have lemon or citrus because of my sensitive stomach that I nearly blew a hole in with gin when I was a lush in the 70's.
She was captivating except I would not be captivated.
I wear my Christian shirt everywhere I go, so I know I better not get caught being captivated by a slinky waitress.
I guess you could say I wear my Christianity on my sleeve.
I concentrated on being nonchalant as she asked if I wanted something else to drink and she handed me the menu.
I did order some sunny-flavored tea.
Sunny asked if I needed more time to peruse the one page, one of those cleverly written menus, with stuff like smashed tomatoes and Atkins tri-fecta.
I said no, I was ready to order, and she seemed annoyed because she was not in any hurry to do anything.
I think she may have been raised in the Bahamas where the only one in a hurry is me when I get there.
What she did not know, or care to know, is that I had made my decision before I even came in.
They had a menu taped to the window by the door which was a clever idea since it worked.
Well, just good business, not really all that clever.
Lots of restaurants do that.
Immediately after I ordered I regretted ordering the Atkin's tri-fecta.
Most combos are a mistake, and this one was.
Salmon, beef tenderloin, and chicken.
Surf and turf and fowl.
Nothing would be fresh.
I hate when I order something in a hurry and regret it and then too ashamed to admit I want to change my order.
That would make a terrible impression on the waitress, and I always want to make a good impression.
Ordering the wrong thing is just the same as eating at a restaurant, then walking out of the restaurant and seeing another restaurant you wished you ate at.
When Sunny came slinking back with the lunch my fears were confirmed; this was a bad choice.
But, of course when she asked if everything was all right I said something brilliant like, "Oh, just great.
"It was not great.
It was just, just.
Don't you think the waitresses all know when the meal is great?They must get together behind their little waiters blind and snicker over all the customers who say, Oh it's great, just great!Most meals are not great.
Some are.
Some are really great.
But most, are just, well just.
I never said anything to Sunny about her model like walk or her slow confident manner, or her sunny smile.
I knew a crack about a sunny smile would come out trite, so I just sign the credit card bill and wrote; "may God bless you dramatically.
"I really like that phrase, and hope she did too.
It is really clever, and I wanted her to think I was really clever.
What if I get to heaven and see Sunny because God does bless her dramatically?
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