Drizzly Day

What a crappy wet day today was.  Which was perfect because I felt crappy myself, having my annual post-flu-shot achy day.  I don't know why I react like that, it isn't live virus in the shot, but I guess I'm a delicate flower, sensitive and all that.  Happily it only lasts a day or so and responds well to a few aspirin.

This little yarrow flower is the only blossom left in the garden.

 

And the tomatoes in the garden are still ripening.  I was surprised to see this one changing color when it's been so cold.  I guess I thought it needed to be warm for them to ripen.  Guess not.

I finished the Warm Tweed Beanie this afternoon with about a yard and a half of yarn to spare.  I was sure that I'd run out just at the very end and have to use a yard from another skein but I knitted fast enough to make it.  I like the hat but it wasn't as satisfying as the baby alpaca one I made before.  There's something about that one that just charms the daylights outta me.

03 October--Barbara Malcolm, Better Than Mom's. 

Brady kept his hand at the small of Naomi’s back as he followed her through the crowd in the bar.  She spied a table near the cold fireplace and veered that way, excusing herself when she needed to pass between people talking.  When they stood in front of the table, they saw why it was empty--there were no chairs.

“Well, hell,” she said, surprising Brady into laughter.

“Oh, Naomi, you’re in trouble now.”

“Why?  Because I said hell?”

“Yes, ma’am.  Hell’s a swear word; my mama told me it was.  And you a church woman.”

She laughed right back at him.  “I may be a church woman, but I get frustrated just as much as the next person.  I don’t think even Pastor Lawson would say I’m going to hell for saying hell.”

Brady looked around to see a foursome leaving a nearby table.  “Hey, grab a couple of those chairs there.  I’ll go to the bar; I think we’d die of thirst waiting for the waitress. What would you like to drink?”

Naomi shrugged.  “I’m not much of a drinker.  A rum and Coke, maybe?”

Brady turned to go up and order, and then turned right back to her.  “You want a slice of lime in it?”

Naomi was shoving two chairs from one table to the other.  “Sure, that’d be good.”

“One Cuba Libre coming up.”

By the time Brady was back with the drinks, Naomi had wiped off the table with a couple of napkins left behind and removed the empty glasses and put them on the mantle of the stone fireplace behind her.  She had also gotten a basket of pretzels and some spicy mustard dip from a small hors d’oeuvre bar against the wall.

He set the drinks down carefully and then sat beside her.  “Man, it’s a zoo in here.  I wonder what’s so special about the place,” he said as he sipped his drink.  “It can’t be the ahm-bee-ahnce.”

The disdainful tone in his voice and the fact that down-to-earth ex-navy cook Brady even knew the word “ambience” --and used it correctly-- made Naomi snort her sip of drink. 

“Ambience?  Are you kidding me?  People around here want a lot of food, cheap, and they get a slab of beef, gigantic baked potato, all-you-can-eat salad bar, and Texas toast for like $19.95.  It’s a cheap-o’s dream.”

“I guess you’re right.  Everybody always bitches when I raise prices, especially the codgers.  I have to soothe them with explanations of rising production costs and shipping prices.  Raymond’s the worst, but then he’s the worst in just about every way.  No wonder his wife lit out for Arizona when he retired.  I can’t imagine working for him.”

Naomi swallowed the bite of pretzel in her mouth.  “Me neither.  Fay tells me about the stuff he says, all racist and intolerant.  It’s a God’s wonder someone hasn’t taken him out behind the woodshed and taught him a lesson.”

Brady toyed with the narrow little straw in his bourbon and Coke.  “We shouldn’t spend the evening talking about the diner, should we?  Tell me about you.”

As they talked Brady and Naomi realized that even though they worked closely together every day, they didn’t really know much about each other’s personal lives and they knew even less about the other person’s hopes and dreams.  They spent a long time lingering over that one drink, each of them pleased to find that the other wasn’t a big drinker.

Naomi was right, it was an hour before the hostess came to show them to a table.  After she took their drink orders, sweet tea for both of them, she invited them to help themselves at the salad bar and grill. 

“Are you hungry?” Brady said.

Naomi nodded.  “I’m starving, let’s get a salad to start.” 

They made their way through salads and then chose steaks, both ribeye.  They agreed that it was the tastiest one. 

Brady asked, “How do you like your steak?” 

“Grilled myself,” she said, brandishing long tongs at him.  “Just because you cook at the diner doesn’t mean you need to cook my meat.”

“Okay,” he said in a small voice. 

They didn’t run out of things to talk about.  Naomi was fascinated by all the places Brady had sailed to in the navy.  It was after eleven o’clock when Brady pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. 

“I had a good time,” he said to the windshield. 

“I had a good time too,” she said to her lap. 

Brady got out and went around to open the door for her.  He offered his hand to help her out of the truck and she took it.  Neither let go as they walked into the building and up the stairs to Naomi’s door. 

“I guess I’ll see you in a few hours,” Naomi said. 

Brady’s head popped up.  “Yeah, see you in a few hours.”  He leaned up and kissed her cheek.  “Goodnight, Naomi.”

“Goodnight, Brady.  Thank you for a lovely evening.”  He smiled, gave a little wave and headed back to his truck. 

Today's toss was three pairs of shoes and a short stack of tee shirts that I didn't wear all summer.  I carried up a bunch of long-sleeved shirts and carried down most of the short-sleeved ones, then I swapped out my summer and winter shoes, and tossed the ones that I haven't worn in a couple winters.

It's supposed to be sunny tomorrow.  God, I hope it is.  I need a sunny day.

--Barbara