I’m bored of myself, but I am addicted to posting, so here goes.
My Sweet Little Girl is back again. For the last 36 hours she has been the tender Souxsie we now and love. I am afraid of her know, after her week+ of terror. Tonight I sat next to her on the couch, watching The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (excellent Wes Anderson) and reveling in her snuggling and small hand stroking my arm. Geez, she’s great.
I feel like los camareros at La Isla hold a special place in my heart from our family meals at their wonderful establishment – about once a week, on average. “Uno mas margarita?” says Jose with a cocked eyebrow and a devilish, understanding twinkle in his eye. “Too spicy?” he asks next – arrogant bastard. No, it’s not too spicy. Bring it on, bitch!
The couple today that sat across from us at a window were on a first or second date in their relationship. Here’s how I know:
1. He ordered his food using Spanish in a loud, “important” voice (altho’ obviously a gringo).
2. No wedding bands on either hand.
3. He did about 95% of the talking;
and the final kicker:
4. While the female ate (and listened) she would unconsciously put her left hand up to her mouth, partially shielding the apparently vile act of feeding her own body.
I mean, I never did behavior #4 while dating or with a guy I liked or at my own wedding even, but I understand female decorum occasionally takes that particular form (“Gee, I don’t know how to actually do this thing called ‘eating‘!”). Yawn.