I have issues with reading several books simultaneously.
Right now:
I was reading Jane Eyre and The Four Loves, but then I also started to read A Moveable Feast [Hemingway] and Pagan Christianity [Viola/Barna].
The last two are probably taking priority right now.
I love Hemingway, have decided I need to read more.
I've just started Pagan today, looks fascinating.
This was a good weekend, filled with friends and a little bit of Jameson, little bit of Steph's feet in my face, an art show, red jeans, reading, fellowship, coconut chocolate chip cliff bars and the buying of promising concert tickets.
Fridays at work are funny [I know this is old news]
Every Friday we're used to the old & crazy, a father and son duo, though the son is more of a silent crazy.
They come in on other days too, sometimes Tuesdays.
I bring out a sandwich to a lady sitting in one of the comfy chairs and I see their car pull in.
"They're here!" I call back to Ash.
She knows who I'm talking about and so do all of the other Friday regulars.
"Man your battle stations!" Laughs the woman who sits in the corner and spins yarn [she really does, she brings in the whole shebang and sits and spins. She said she would teach me!]
I rush to the back and we try and get everything started before they walk in. It's usually coffee, a caramel latte, an oatmeal, a cheddar and herb bagel.
If we don't have everything ready, they start to show an inwardly frantic impatience as they wait. They begin fidgeting. We tell them to go and have a seat but they aren't quite at ease until drinks and food sit in front of them.
The father is known to get quite crazy, yelling and screaming, showing paintings he did to customers, spreading out sheet music everywhere (before he got kicked out of the band) telling other customers corny jokes, etc.
Today, though, he is muted, coming in and immediately showing us how he is locking his mouth up with a key and throwing it away. He does this several times. His son must have told him to pipe down (he gets quite embarrassed by the rambling and shouting his father does).
This is a low key day. He doesn't ask me to wash his teeth. He doesn't come up and demand a cup by saying: "INEEDACUP! YOUKNOWWHATACUPIS? INEEDACUPRIGHTNOW! CUPCUPCUPCUP!" He doesn't say anything about how he was a toolmaker and he understands the pressures I go through. Almost disappointing.
When they leave, someone announces it, but not in a mean way. We enjoy their mad company.
Any mad company, really, isn't all that bad.
If we don't have everything ready, they start to show an inwardly frantic impatience as they wait. They begin fidgeting. We tell them to go and have a seat but they aren't quite at ease until drinks and food sit in front of them.
The father is known to get quite crazy, yelling and screaming, showing paintings he did to customers, spreading out sheet music everywhere (before he got kicked out of the band) telling other customers corny jokes, etc.
Today, though, he is muted, coming in and immediately showing us how he is locking his mouth up with a key and throwing it away. He does this several times. His son must have told him to pipe down (he gets quite embarrassed by the rambling and shouting his father does).
This is a low key day. He doesn't ask me to wash his teeth. He doesn't come up and demand a cup by saying: "INEEDACUP! YOUKNOWWHATACUPIS? INEEDACUPRIGHTNOW! CUPCUPCUPCUP!" He doesn't say anything about how he was a toolmaker and he understands the pressures I go through. Almost disappointing.
When they leave, someone announces it, but not in a mean way. We enjoy their mad company.
Any mad company, really, isn't all that bad.
1 comment:
"We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known."
This is so me...somehow, only I can never put it into words.
:-)
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