blue girl

Last Call

The bartender held a glass in her left hand, twirled around on one foot and grabbed a bottle of scotch off the shelf. She held the bottle in her right hand, high in the air as she poured the scotch down into the glass, every so often pumping her right hand downward, quickly, like rapid fire, never spilling a drop. She plunked the bottle back onto the shelf, added water and a twist to the glass, set it in front of a guy in a suit who thanked her, then stepped to her left and turned off the blender, just before grabbing a wine glass and a bottle of Cab.

"Being a bartender's like being a performance artist, you know?"

The front door of the restaurant opened and a group of guys rolled in, shaking off the cold of an early December night. They made their way to our side of the bar as the bartender cleared away our dishes and gave us the check.

I said, "You want to drive around and look at Christmas lights? Our neighborhood's exploded. Like Clark Griswold."

The Skimmer said, "Sure. Wonder where that all started? Putting up lights on your house?" He signed the check and tucked his wallet back into the pocket inside his jacket.

"Who knows. Probably some marketing effort by GE a hundred years ago."

I got up to put on my coat and one of the guys who had rolled in asked if we were leaving.

"Yep, they're all yours!"

We had kept their seats warm. It was our gift to them.

Merry Christmas!

***

This was the last installment of our Friday Night Out. Thanks for hanging in there. Read the rest! Part 1, 2, 3, 4.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

A man in his mid to late fifties sat at the bar alone, a few chairs down from The Skimmer. He was thin, close to frail. He was wearing a cream colored turtleneck with a green and blue plaid flannel shirt over it. He stared mostly down at his salad but when he did look up, he always looked across the bar at a woman who was laughing, having a good time with a group of friends. A bleached blonde who frequented a tanning salon, wearing a tight white blouse unbuttoned down to there. She'd laugh, he'd glance up and hold his stare for a few seconds, then quickly look down at his plate.

The Skimmer said, "It's nice they're playing these carols. I haven't been listening to too many Christmas carols this year."

I said, "I have, but they make me awfully sad."

The Skimmer got up to go to the restroom. The waitress, noticing the thin man was done with his salad, asked him if he would like anything else. He said he'd just like the check.

I poked at my salmon and The Skimmer walked around to my side of the bar, stopped, and kissed me on the top of the head.

The thin man threw a five and change on the bar. As he walked towards the front of the restaurant, The Carpenter's, Merry Christmas, Darling began to play. He walked out of the door and into the night, alone.

***

This was Part 4 of our Friday Night Out. Read Parts 1, 2 & 3.

Feel the Love

The Skimmer and I decided not to order the burgers we had decided to go out to get, but instead ordered the salmon and a chicken salad croissant. We folded up our menus and ordered another round of drinks. The Skimmer looked across the bar, leaned into me and said, "Look at that guy's hair."

I said, "It's like Ted Danson hair. But more."

"How does he know what to do with all that hair?"

"He's had that hair his whole life. He knows how to deal with it." I reached over and squeezed The Skimmer's hand.

"Look at my hand," I said. "I think my hands are starting to look old."

"Oh, honey," said The Skimmer, "they don't look old." And then he took my hand and kissed it. "It's when the liver spots show up that I'll be dumping your ass."

***

This was Part 3 of our Friday Night Out. Read Parts 1, 2.

Cocktail Hour

The Skimmer and I took our seats at the bar, ordered our drinks and discussed the events of the week. Tiger (FUBAR!), health care reform (FUBAR!), the Democrats (FUBAR!) the state of the economy, our bank account and the need to do some Christmas shopping (FUBAR!). I told him how the heavy winds had knocked out our cable, leaving me without TV and an Internet connection.

“You were transported back in time! Did you churn butter?”

***

This was Part 2 of our Friday Night Out. Read about Ms. Grinch in Part 1 here!

Cuddly as a Cactus, Charming as an Eel

The Skimmer and I decided to go out for burgers last night. We got to our regular place and looked for seats at the bar. It was cozy and warm, decorated with tiny white lights and pine. The place was packed but two women looked as though they were ready for their check so we lingered behind them, taking care not to hover too close. They paid and got ready to leave. The blonde was cheerful, kind eyes twinkling, kidding us about keeping our seats warm. The brunette took her good old time putting on her coat, leaving her purse on the bar and knocking her empty chair closer to the the blonde’s empty chair with her hip so that we weren’t able to sit down. The blonde had walked several feet away and paced while brunettey stalled, searching her pockets and giving me dirty looks every few seconds while flipping her hair from left to right. She was in control for those few minutes. I chose not to smack her in the head with a poinsettia.

It was my gift to her.

Merry Christmas!

What I Hate Worse than Packing

Unpacking.

A Picture Worth 633 Words

I’ve been making the trip from Cleveland to Columbus for more than a year and a half now. And I always go through the same routine. Like I did yesterday afternoon. I wait until the last minute to pack. And why not? An overnight trip is not that big of deal. I walk through the steps of my daily routine in my mind, throwing things into an overnight bag as I go. But I’m always thinking, I really need to start making a list. Have I started making lists yet? No. But, I’m closer to my goal by just knowing that at some point in time that that's what I need to start doing.

I get all packed up and load everything into the car. I run back inside before leaving, two or three times, just to scan the rooms, to make sure things are unplugged, to make sure the cats are fed, to make sure the turtle’s fed, to make sure the guinea pig’s fed, to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. But, I always forget something. And I always realize I’ve forgotten it about ten minutes into the trip. Turning around to go back and get whatever it is I’ve forgotten would add another twenty minutes onto the drive.

I’ve taken tens of, um, tens of trips to Columbus over the last year and a half and I’ve forgotten almost everything that needs to be remembered on any given trip. My toothbrush, my blowdryer, my make-up, the gunk I put in my hair to make it straight, my cell phone, my pajamas, whatever book it is I’m reading at the time, my reading glasses, the right socks, the right jeans, the right sweater, the right coat, tights, my laptop, my slippers, the cute black boots I have that I only wear with the right jeans and the right coat with the black turtleneck that I either forgot or remembered. Depending.

Yesterday afternoon I didn’t forget my shampoo or conditioner, my toothbrush or my blow dryer. Didn’t forget the gunk. Didn’t forget my make-up or my favorite brush. Didn’t forget my black, bubbly dress. Didn’t forget the silver and black necklace with matching earrings that are just the right accessories to the black, bubbly dress. Didn’t forget my black tights or just the right black pumps.

And it’s very good that I didn’t forget any of that on this trip because The Skimmer and I went to a Christmas party last night and I really needed not to forget any of it.

Who needs to start making lists, anyway?

Me.

Ten minutes into my trip yesterday afternoon I remembered that I forgot my camera.

In that split second I have to make the decision of whether or not to go back to the house -- can’t take too long or it will add even more time to the trip if I decide to turn around and go back -- I decided not to add twenty minutes onto my trip to go back to get it. Even though I always want a photo of the two of us when we get dressed up to go out for an evening, especially at Christmas time. Me standing next to The Skimmer in my black bubbly dress with just the right accessories, him to my right in his jeans, black turtleneck, black shoes and black jacket.

I didn’t have to worry about forgetting The Skimmer’s jeans, black turtleneck, black shoes and black jacket because he takes care of remembering or forgetting his own stuff himself.

I decided in that split second that I’d just write a post about it. With my organizational skills, God only knows where the photo that would have been taken of us would end up years from now had I not forgotten my camera.

Figured a post would last longer.