An unexpected Thanksgiving off, and I was greatly appreciative. The owners of the restaurant probably realized that holidays aren't worth the overtime, and they're right, and - bloody hell, I'm all in for the holidays.
So I planned to hit up the soup kitchen, which does a free Thanksgiving dinner that is (hugely) well attended, and then I thought better and took friend for dinner.
Here, there's no end of people here you can take for dinner. It's that sort of town.
And friend, well, I mean, I'm pretty tough to deal with, she's a longstanding ex, but she's always kept the sofa made up for me, always fed me, stopped stocking the Vodka (because that was an EXPENSE!!!), but - know who your friends are.
SO an overpriced dinner at the fanciest place in town, which - look at their menu - isn't that fancy, but they've done great with the decor.
***
Tuesday, my double, bloody hell, a midday rush (3:00 - 5:00), otherwise a slow spiritual suicide. The murder of innocent days.
***
Wednesday, supposedly off, but I get the text "... is sick" and as I had Thanksgiving off I can't argue the fact. Work. Dismal. After work, check the thrift shop (Positive Apparel) and find nothing, it's furniture equivalent, nada, then get groceries. Lots. Enough for a week. Hit "Dollarama" in a quest for cinnamon to quell the mould on the chilis and a 2" paint roller, find both (or close enough) - and a few other trifles that I didn't think to write down but found nonetheless. Success!
The Chilis? Glad you asked. One of the three has produced a 1 inch gonad that overnight turned red, as well as two smaller gonads that also turned red. So I will have some (?? How many is some? 3-4) of the spiciest peppers on earth, only I haven't tried them yet and need to bring them into work and have them thinly sliced and delivered for assay...
After that another trip, this time to the Coop, some more ephemeral supplies, and I run into B*****, in his special "walking uniform" which would mask as an exercise uniform if it weren't for...
And he paces me back to the building, he's in need of a cigarette, is restless, the divorce, not going so well (?? do they ever ??), the children, the ...
We're done the cigarettes when he takes the hint and fucks off, my place, it's a studio, it's not for entertaining, I spell it out...
I hate that it's that way, but - You know, not changing a lifetime of habit or preference for a random...and really, it's not just gender bias, if you saw my place you'd know it wasn't for entertaining.
***
Today, Thursday, still a couple sheets to the wind. Off to Creston, where I'd offered the choice to Thanksgiving friend (hotsprings, Creston) and the die was cast.
First, Gleaners. Nada. I've never seen so much shit I didn't want or need in my life. Or - wait - I have seen, every Friday volunteering at the thrift shop...
Maybe I could have broken down, bought a few canvases for restretching and art projects but - nope, nope, it's too overwhelming....and I have enough on my plate to keep me busy until the end of my life...
***
Then the Iode, lucky chance that it's open, but again Nada. From here to the bookstore - Kingfisher, a great old/collectable bookstore, only I have a list, a hundred books stacked by my computer, and they have nothing that's on my list.
I spend a little extra time, discover the basement, where "Science/Math" are grouped together and ... is misspelt, this gives me hope....I find a copy of Isaac Newton's "The Principia" in translation (Why? Because he wrote it in Latin, Dummy!!!!) this is my find of the day, My only find.
From here to lunch, friend has supplied her recommendation. It's a nondescript shit-hole on the intersection of the highway and the main street.
***
I fucking have to kill her. It's in a restaurant/gift shop, at the end of one of the busier streets, the intersection. The "Gift" portion of the shop comprises mostly just rocks/gems/minerals/new-age/greeting cards and CNC wood plaques epitomizing dumb-ass twee sentiments about home. there's just room enough for a half dozen tables.
The menu, dismal, we decide on a couple of burritos. I go and pay. With drinks (Diet Coke and H20) it comes to $50.00.
Wait. Wait. Wait for the food.
When it arrives it's as if you described the theory of a burrito to an alien; who understanding nothing of burritos, of earth, of what you mean by "beans" and "rice" and "fresh vegetables" and with what limited comprehension it has tries to make you a meal from home-grown off-world ingredients. I paid $50.00 for this. Every mouthful of disgust, and I have to eat it, the most expensive remorse or disgust you can buy; it's beyond appalling, the diet coke can't wash the retching out of my throat, and still I force myself. I'm glad to see my friend is finding it no more savoury than I but is forcing herself to "chow down" as well. For a side they've "lovingly" piled three fingers worth of tortilla crumbs (the bottom of the bag, clearly, not a whole chip amongst them), and the condiments comprise a small dish of "Pace" brand salsa and home-soured cream.
The most fucking disgusting meal of my life.
***
Still retching from the aftermath and the bile rising in my throat and not just a little bit annoyed at friend (I did suggest McDonalds, the poor-choice of fools but Michelin Starred next to that abomination), we make our way to the High street jewellers, look at his selection of used vintage watches (he has better, in the back room, but I haven't the budget after spending $50.00 on garbage and $70.00 on gas and so I resist the temptation...) and querying him find that he is able to repair old watches. This is good, I need a local watch guy, and I've grown tired of handing them off to the jewellers in town at $300.00 a pop only to find after 6-8 weeks they can't fix them...
From here to the next stop - Beacon bookstore, a vintage/used/curated bookstore right on the high street. And - again, an amazing selection of vintage/antique books, many great titles, and I never knew it was here...
Who would have guessed Creston would prove to have so much to my taste?
I mean, other than food...
This ends the day. The rest of it trying to get the flavour of the world's worst burrito out of my mouth, multiple rinses with soda, diet coke, vodka, just not doing it but an explosion earlier this afternoon might just have seen the last of it, god knows it tasted better...