Wow... 4 days in already. Imagine that. And still no obligatory post of self examination of the year past -- has Yo gone all soft and semi-predictable?
Doubtful. Extremely so. But we'll get to that later.
"Momento" like, I'm going to work backward to the New Year, and probably as far back as Arizona (I have people ready to KILL me for not posting pics of Lilly, which are about as nauseatingly cute as such things can be), a full week before the non-holiday (or, as Roni and I have taken to calling it, "The weekend after solstice". Take THAT, O'Reilly!).
So last night I FINALLY had dinner with kshandra, twice postponed. It wasn't anywhere near as awkward as I thought it would be, being that it was the first time we had been face to face since the Herpes Scare Debacle and Relationship Massacre of Aught Five.
I drove down to San Jose (which, despite the continuing rainy weather, wasn't as craptastic as it COULD have been), and we went to Marie Callender's for dinner. I simply ADORE the chicken pot pie, and we got a waitress that was easy on both sets of eyeballs. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the goddess for that moment when the waitress dropped her pen -- though I still think those pants were too tight for a person that cheerful and over-worked.
The pot-pie came, and she warned that it was hot from the oven. I didn't think anything of it, having had the dish at that chain before... at least, until I managed to spill a single drop on my left forearm.
I think the term I came up with was "culinary napalm".
Now, the restaurant was fairly crowded, and there WERE children present, so I fore-bore swearing, screaming, or anything else inappropriate beginning with the letter "S". Sure, it hurt -- but I have a high threshold for pain, and didn't think it could be that bad.
UNtil I realized I was watching my flesh poach.
Koosh thought that NOTHING should come to a table THAT piping hot. In hindsight I should have taken her suggestion and said something, but I guess I didn't want to get our lovely waitress into trouble... besides, I would have thought that was a job for the kitchen.
Anyway, so now I have one of the worst burns I've received in YEARS. It's not quite as bad as the nasty one Michele received from an evil waffle iron some years back, and DEFINITLY not as bas as the one perlandria endured a few months ago in a significantly more sensitive spot. It doesn't even hurt today. Yes, I've been keeping it clean, bandaged, and slathered in anti-biotic ointment, though I tend to throw off infection fairly easily.
Other than that, the evening went very well. K surprised me by asking if I wanted to go to the dessert with her this year, which gives me some mixed feelings -- I'm touched she still wants that level of connection. Of course, its also a bit of a annoyance that I need to decide SOMETHING within the next two weeks, as that's when the tix go on sale. I know why they sell them nine months in advance, but I'm having a hard enough time charting a course through the next MONTH, much less the end of a Summer still two seasons distant.
Tentatively I agreed. She acknowledged that we really need to talk a lot more, work some stuff out. I hope that we can get to go -- I want to use that damn tent I bought some day (it's still in the freaking box, for pity's sake!).
Had a wonderful phone conversation with dcatt on the way home, which was aborted when her phone began flaking out on her. It's really annoying to get to a point of being able to open up in a conversation (and that's MY problem, not hers... she's always been a wonderful listener), only to realize that you've been talking to a dead phone. There REALLY should be some sort of tone when the call ends to let you know these things. Like the one you get it the connection drops on this side of the conversation.
Got home to find Roni slouched out in the TV room. Her attempt to get new tires at Big O was only partly successful -- they had to order the tires for the bug, but the price WAS substantially better than the quote she got Sunday.