We Can Sit Wherever We Like

Wil and his friend, Timmy, are taking a rhythm and drumming class on Wednesdays at noon. We pick up Timmy, I drop the boys off, then have an hour all to myself, that just so happens to coincide with lunchtime. This week, I decided that I would seize the beautiful fall day, and walk to a nearby restaurant, and dine on something other than pizza or hamburgers for a change.

We eat out a lot, but the restaurant choice is never mine, and to eat in a healthy (vegan, even) restaurant with a cloth napkin, and be seated at a cute little table in a hip neighborhood, was a real treat. A sweet-faced young man looked at me and asked, "Just one, today?" I don't know how he knew I was alone, and not just the first to arrive, and maybe he didn't know, maybe that's just what he says to people that walk in alone.

What I do know, is that once he got busy serving, a woman with purple hair, many tattoos and a lovely smile, began greeting the new arrivals. Two woman walked in, and I overheard, "We can sit wherever we like." That sounded a bit confrontational to me, so I looked over and saw that the hostess was still smiling, and the two women were delighted with their table.

Next, a man walked in, and again I heard a woman say, "We can sit wherever we like."

I was confused. I put down the book I was reading, and looked up. The hostess was indeed the one letting the patrons know that "we" can sit wherever "we" want. Like I says,* it was noon, and the restaurant was quick to fill up. Over and over I heard, "We can sit wherever we like."

It turns out the "hostess" wasn't the hostess. There was no host. There was no hostess. There were only employees that worked together in a restaurant, and at least one of them wanted to make sure that the everyone that walked in those doors, felt like part of something larger than themselves.

We really can sit wherever we like, when you think about it.

The choice is ours.







* I say this just to annoy my husband.

Still Stuck

Couple nights ago I dreamed we were going to move and share a house with another family we know, whom also has a child that experiences a disability. I was very optimistic how all that was going to work, how we were going to share time, talent and treasure, until I got chided for using the wrong bathroom. When I looked around the house again, I realized she was right, I'd been using the one near their bedroom, and I hadn't even noticed the one right by ours. This is never going to work, I decided then and there.

Last night, I was driving with Wil and my friend Kim, and I can only assume her son, Tim, was in the backseat with Wil, but he was uncharacteristically quiet, in the dream. Like I said, I was driving, and that can only mean one thing, I'm bound to get us lost. Kim is a very good driver and navigator, and in the dream she was also trying to help, but I went too far down some weird road, and then couldn't find a place to turn around.

Eventually, I turned into some sort of site and made an attempt to turn around but it was impossible. The road ended and the only choice would be to make a jump for it, and try to cross the abyss while flying through the air. Because we were nearly wrapped around a large tree and at a dead stop, there was no way to gain enough momentum to even consider the risky move.

We were stuck.

We couldn't go forward and we couldn't go backward.

We couldn't leap into the unknown.

We all got out and walked to some building, which turned out to be a lodge of sorts. There were other guests also staying until they could get un-stuck. I was given confusing directions about where to go to reserve a room for the night, how one actually gets out of there, and ended up even further lost and confused. The staircases were "wrong," and unusable. The front desk wasn't where I was told it would be. The route out took two days by foot, led by a man with a cane. "But I have a car," I said, "what about that?"

Mid-dream the other people I was with switched from Kim and Tim, to my cousins and their families. They seemed to have no problem figuring out a solution to the situation. I could see them down in the lobby making reservations and treating the whole situation like an unexpected vacation. I couldn't even figure out how they got to the lobby from where we were, let alone how they seemed excited about the whole thing.

Finally, I ended up in the side office of a very nice woman, and cried that I had a child with special needs. I didn't have any food he would eat, I couldn't find any restaurants. We were due home and there was no way I could wait until tomorrow to start a two-day, slow walk back.

The dream ended when I woke up. There was no clear ending. There was no satisfying resolution. There was no disastrous result, either.

Sometimes, when you go down a weird road for too long, it's very difficult to find a place to turn around.

TOP 10 THINGS I'M DOING IN THE NAME OF WRITING:

10. Wishing I'd been a journalism major

 9.  Being super glad I'm not a journalist in today's world

 8. Reading a lot of memoirs and judging them (both the memoirs and the memoirists)

 7. Making long lists of possible titles for possible books I could possibly write

 6. Checking Amazon to see if my great titles are already taken by writers much better than I

 5. Immediately emailing various people to let them know my great ideas have been dashed

 4. Watching YouTube videos how to download a library book onto my Kindle

 3. Browsing through tons of books I have no intention of ever reading

 2. Drinking a lot of coffee in various coffee shops, while "writing"

 1. Watching Pets Who Hate Donald Trump, instead of doing almost anything else

Fun

Is it just me, or are you all getting asked all the time, "Doing anything fun today?" or some iteration of that theme. I get asked at the grocery store when I'm checking out. I get asked when I'm paying for our froyo. I get asked as we're paying for our pizza.

I want to shout back, "This is the 'fun' thing we are doing today!"

I don't.

I know they are just being polite and trying to be friendly and start a conversation. They are trying to take an interest in me/us. They are just doing their job.

So I don't shout at all. But nor do I ever have a satisfying reply.

It makes me feel like my life isn't fun enough. Like I'm not out there whooping it up like the other customers. Like I've somehow failed at fun and need to go home and study more, so I can pass the test the next time it's offered.

I think my (ridiculous) irritation comes from me assuming they are describing "fun" as "pleasure," and "pleasure" as equalling "happiness."

I think I think every question needs an answer.

I think I think too much.

Over-thinking, is not "fun."