Work is work. Not the regulars, but the standard assortment of lost souls that fill every restaurant dumb enough to open on a national holiday weekend.
Never busy, never full, most tables having 1 course, house wine by the glass, pastas, or, if you're lucky a steak, always well done. Very slow, but the laid back pace is a welcome break from regular weekends.
No regulars, or at best one or two tables. Most of our tables, night to night, are regulars, holiday weekends are another story.
Friday already blogged, Saturday, slow, my turn to leave, the night strangely dragging, watch stopping, finally, finally I'm free. No day off on Monday, the owner's decided to open despite there being no reservations in the book. And, perversely, this is good, it guarantees my regularly scheduled day off.
Sunday the boy and I head to Red Deer to meet Grandpa for Lunch. No time for the Pedestrian Bridge (I've plans for some photos and critical observations & letters). I've a blue furry Easter Bonnet, with rabbit ears, that I'm wearing. With the blonde hair, dark roots and decrepit, ripped sweater and jeans I look s proper crack addict. People notice and laugh, some parents (grabbing a coffee in a Tim Horton's) clutch their children close, who cares, really? Survive the day, day off, 1 day, a regular day, in a 4 day holiday weekend.
Boy is envious of the cap, although he only hints. He's halfway through "A Clockwork Orange", liking it, refused to download "Eraserhead" as somehow it seemed just a bit too fucked up for him. He's completed all reading assignments, must find something new or his Mom will force him to read "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", which is a bit too contemporary for our taste (good or not). We'll check the VV in Red Deer.
Lunch, Dad, Grandpa, good. And, surprisingly, he doesn't comment on the blonde hair or the blue Easter Bonnet. I'm impressed, I should acquire some of his restraint. We catch up. I lightly tease the boy about his haircut, it's good, different, first noticeable haircut in about 5 years, I didn't know he had ears, this because his Drama teacher insisted, we talk fluff and Nonsense.
Then to Value Village, some treasures, I could spend a couple of hours here but the boy, grandpa, they're both bored, I'm quick. The stomach's off, a proper volcano with all the feel-good chilies consumed on Saturday, the washroom and that vague unease that I may be surprised again. VV then short, despite my desire to pry through every treasure, bagged jewelry item, thwarted, the obvious treasures that can be gleaned from an acre's worth of shopping in 10 minutes, for the boy a copy of Marlowe's "Dr. Faustus" - reading for a couple of days (he's in Drama, after all...), for myself some sparkly jewelry items for the daughter, a rosary ring, little angel medallion, (I could spend hours going through their little bags...), then the long drive home, miss the Stony Trail Exit and take the long route through the center of Calgary.
The boy notices the soundtrack of "Prospero's Books" playing from the MP3, makes a note, does he like it? Curious. Finally he's home in time for Easter Dinner, me to DQ for their 1$ burgers (filling the cracks that Earl's didn't), home, nap (long), coffee, up, and now again ready for sleep...