Feeling Calmer, Better and Gathering the Peace

2014-04-24 11.40.05

Those aren’t tears…that’s water on the lens! Uploaded wrong photo. Will replace soon.

Feeling a bit more relaxed over here.  Living amongst murderers and thieves is indeed stressful, but that’s what it means to live in America and I have — at least temporarily — found my peace.  Sans Xanax.  

Today’s rain did it for me, washed away the angry thoughts.  If only it would wash away the sick troublemakers, too.  (You don’t suppose there is any truth to that Noah story, do you?  One can dream and even, perchance, dare a wish.)

So instead of writing angry texts and posts, I am instead looking at pictures I took today.  Aren’t they beautiful?  Kind of?  I am a sucker for pictures like this.  Wet, ragged, once-urban landscapes touch my sweet spot.  Although I think this might have once been a farm.  I like to pretend it was once an asylum, but that sounds like I am trying too hard.

There was a little wildlife to be found, too.  I saw a fox (quick little devil was faster than my camera) and a woodcock which was twice as fast as the fox.  (Missed it, too.)  So I took pictures of things a bit less nimble, things like trees, stone walls, and old, cracked sidewalks.  I cold do this all day…and almost did.

Alas that thing called work.  Now is not the time to be careless.  Not only do I have a bar tab to pay, but…
Speaking of bars, I stopped at Rinata, a lovely little Italian restuarant, for some of their delicious spaghetti with house made meatballs and tomato sugo.  I like this place, but tonight it is quite lively here.  Too lively.  A group behind me appears unaware that others might prefer and even expect a simple sense of decorum.
One loud woman is…well…rude!  There’s no reason to cackle like a madwoman, especially here…or especially anywhere I might be.  First of all, nothing is that funny.  Absolutely nothing.  A laugh like that signals poor breeding or insecurity or both.  I want to punch her.  I glared instead and I am going to glare again.  (Shut the flip up!  Honestly.)

She is destroying the calm easy ambiance of this place and that’s a pity.  I have always enjoyed the cozy, friendly ambiance of this place.  Tonight it sounds like a Klondike whorehouse.  All is not lost, however, there is the beauty of the statuesque waitress/hostess/bartender.  She shines brightly even on this night which crudeness darkens.  We only need her, like a tired swimmer only needs a raft. The crass tackiness behind me will not ruin my visit.  I will just pretend that I really wanted to eat in a room filled with a rafter of screeching turkeys and make the most of it.  I won’t let this work me up.  Nothing tonight will unsettle my calm, nothing will get me back to calling David Webb a nitwit or calling Jordana Green a….

Hey, wait a minute…that cackling maniac….what if that is Jordana Green?!  Indeed, I have heard Jordana cackle on the radio.  Could be, certainly could be…But it isn’t.  Jordana isn’t that bad, not quite.  I did date a crazy woman once who cackled like that, usually at 4:00 in the morning.  I liked her.  Once.  Maybe it’s her.  After all, how many crude, rude, insecure women of poor breeding can one city hold?  Not many, I’ll bet.  But hold your bets; it is always good to know when to move on.
So I shall glare one more time at the loud table, make my point, and then order my spaghetti.  Relax.  Maintain the peace.  Punch the laughter, if necessary, but keep the peace.  And look at the blonde waitress/hostess/bartender in non-creepy ways.

 

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