The flower vendor who sets up in the atrium of our office building was there yesterday, selling roses that were only $5 more per dozen than her usual good price. And I hadn’t brought home flowers since moving into the duplex.
To get them from the office to the train station last night, I put the styrofoam cup I had been using ~ when I’m home, I drink my juice straight up, but at work I like it on the rocks ~ into the bottom of the knitting bag and rested the damp end of the bundle inside, then hooked my wrist through one strap, my little finger down into the wrapping paper, and my wrist through the second strap. Not elegant, but relatively stable. [Hrm, rather like me :) ]
I propped the flowers into the crook where the seat ahead joins the side of the train car, put Trainman’s card face down on the aisle seat, and waited. Not long, as it turned out. Our mutual friend [not DecoratorDude; haven’t seen him in weeks] sat in the row ahead of me. I need to come up with a name for her, but I haven’t known her long enough to be able to capture her in a word or two.
He showed up on the next connecting train, grinned when he saw the card, and put it carefully into his briefcase. And the three of us chattered away happily for an hour. When we were a couple of stations out, he suddenly asked, “Do either of you have plans for tonight?” Neither of us did. So we stowed our things in our respective cars and walked across from the T&P Station to the new Omni Hotel. She had a beer, he had a margarita, I had a Shirley Temple, and we shared probably the best quesadillas I have eaten and a small mountain of nachos and listened to a jazz combo.
We were probably the only people there who were really listening to the music; they were good. And in between songs, we talked about the music and musicians we liked. He likes Eva Cassidy and Doctor John [like me, just about anything but rap]. When she gets blue, she likes Mariah Carey, he likes [oh dang, I can’t remember, but it was somebody I had heard of, and like], and I like bagpipe music. Bless them, neither of them raised an eyebrow at that.
By about 9:00, I was visibly wilting [must have been the knitting withdrawal], so we took a stroll around the first and second levels of the hotel then walked back across the street. We hugged her and watched her safely into her car. Then he and I hugged and said goodnight.
Not sure what-all is going to happen today. I am both more rested and more tired than when I woke up last Saturday morning. So probably some puttering but not as much as last weekend. I have things to return to the library, and laundry to do. Best Friend will be hanging out here while her hubby is at that gun show I posted about a few weeks back. I had better clear a spot on the couch. And I am doing another drive-by-fooding of the elders and feel completely uninspired. So I’m thinking it won’t be a big weekend for cooking, either.
Time to tune in to yesterday’s KnitPicks podcast and work a few rows on various projects. Maybe I will get those entrelac socks cast on sometime this weekend.
Happy birthday, Trainman! And happy Valentines’ Day and/or Singles Awareness Day to all y’all.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!