Saturday, April 19, 2008

The Start of Strange Days

I was in Peet's getting a coffee, talking to the chick behind the counter about the joy of Friday (course this was the beginning of the day, so what was there to be celebrating, right?) and who should walk in? The Banker. He works around the corner from the coffee house. We are supposedly going to do drinks next week. We shall see. It was wierd though. I saw TG this week too. But that was deliberate, I had to return one of his movies.

Then I went to work. Only 2 of my 4 bosses are actually in town so I have only had 1/2 the work I could be doing. Hopefully that will change. I still like it a lot and I finally got my office supplies. I heard the boxes being delivered to the mail room down the hall. How awesome am I?

On Friday night, I went to an amateur theater thing in town. I gotta say, amateur theater is only good when you know someone in the show and I knew no one. Not even one of the 16 member audience. It was OK, I have seen better and I have seen worse.

I had parked in a nearby garage, as I usually do at night. It's safer and I feel better knowing my car is indoors. I go to leave and pay, and I see all these cars backing up. Turns out this particular garage's credit card acceptor was broken (would have been nice to know that before I parked). So at 9:45, I had to re-park my car, get out, go outside, find an ATM and get some cash for the garage. But since this garage only took exact change (no change would be given anyway), I needed to break my newly acquired twenty. I headed to a local brewery/bar behind a gaggle of very young people, there were 16 in the group. Not being one to wait for children in any sort of way, I walked past them and headed straight for the bar. I ordered a nice light beer and tucked in to enjoy it. Got to scope some cuties in the process.

There is a great freedom in sitting alone at a bar, not waiting for anyone but yourself to finish that drink. Not bothering with anyone else or their opinions. It was great, a real confidence booster.

Today I went to the art museum for an Impressionist exhibit, my favorite art movement. It was very good and I enjoyed it immensely. Then I decided to wander about the rest of the museum (my favorite floors are still closed), but I finally ventured into the Spanish Colonial and South American sections for the first time. The Impressionist exhibit was very crowded, but by some miracle, reasonably quiet. There was the occational burst of conversation however. My favorite being from a woman who said, "I am just sick of all the brush strokes." Isn't that what Impressionism is?

I was one of 4 people on the Spanish floor, including the guard and that was the loudest section of the entire museum. Is it too much to ask that people use their inside voices in an art gallery? I could hear one woman across the floor (it's a big floor), she was so loud. I was trying to enjoy the peaceful solitude of the saints and she's talking about dinner plans . Honestly. Think of others, will ya?

Tomorrow is dinner with the family and maybe a concert in the park.


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