Eating out (1)

I have done a few Project 365 blogs. I am considering another one. Hence the (1) in the title, which I realize is bold.

It's not that I have anything in particular to say, but I crave the discipline—of paying attention to my time, to what I encounter or learn or feel in a day; and of writing, which I don't do enough of. Though it is, arguably, what I'm good at. 

I used to share "15s" (basically, journaling) with my sister-in-law, but that stopped. I've missed the interaction. I know very few people look at this blog, but those of you who do: you're my friends, and I enjoy sharing my experience of life with you.

So, I'm considering another 365.*

For right now, I just want to share this evening's experience of going out for dinner at a restaurant, which is something we do more and more rarely. It's expensive! (Used to be much less expensive.) The food is good, but if it's more or less something I'd cook in my own kitchen, what's the point?

David, though, has been sighing for a while now about wanting to go out to eat. I keep pointing out that we have lots of tasty leftovers! For some reason, that doesn't appease him. So this afternoon I asked, "Do you want to go out to dinner?" The look on his face! Like our cat just after he's captured a white-crowned sparrow!**

So: I chose Zab Zab, a Thai restaurant in New Monterey that we like. There was a table free, in front, yay! Unfortunately, to my left was a family of three, the small child of which was very vocal. Little kids have high-pitched voices that can be loud. Dad kept admonishing, "Shhhhh" (bless his heart), but there was only so much he could do. I maybe need to start carrying earplugs when we go out to dinner. So I can concentrate on the menu at least.

But the darling little tyke ended up being no problem at all. The problem was the table to my right, four adults. Who were discussing a legal case. The plot of which I didn't entirely discern (I was trying not to listen), but an older gentleman was grilling one of the women, 50-ish, about her relationship with (a) marijuana and (b) a marijuana-smoking younger relative. Grilling! He kept mentioning "the jury." I had an impression that the younger relative... died? The older gentleman (I employ the word advisedly) kept using the word "shit," which every time made me cringe. So much judgment. Maybe he was a lawyer, the 50-something's lawyer, I don't know. He certainly seemed to be prepping her for questions.

I tried to enjoy our spring rolls, our sweet and sour chicken and cellophane noodles with shrimp, my Chardonnay. But I couldn't not hear the oppressive conversation going on next door.

Eventually (they were long done with their meal), I couldn't help it: I had to speak up. "Excuse me, do you think you could take this conversation elsewhere? It's not conducive to dining. It's heavy and it's combative. Maybe go talk over drinks or something?" 

I'm not confrontational, so it wasn't easy for me to say. But honestly: what I was witnessing was an interrogation, in an otherwise pleasant setting! 

They very quickly rounded up the check, paid, and took off. The two women apologized as they left. I wished the one who'd be before the jury luck, and she thanked me. 

It all just struck me as so inappropriate. Like we're all in each other's business anymore anyway, but at the same time all in our own little bubbles—so anything goes? No situational awareness, no respect for others. It's not good.

I have been feeling increasingly anxious as the Tuesday election nears. I am not at all optimistic that civility, our social good, will prevail. This is happening all over the world, not just here, which I guess is a bit of a comfort. It's not only this (my) country that's getting torn to pieces. But it doesn't make me feel very hopeful about humanity...

Since I always include a photo with my posts, here's something beautiful and completely random,*** a work of environmental art by Andy Goldsworthy, by way of antidote:

*I know, I know: I aborted one a couple of years ago, at #100, when travel, and then the pandemic, interrupted. And I sort of started one earlier this year, but it didn't get far at all. Still, it's a new day! Maybe this time I'll persevere! Or maybe I'll take it to 100 again and leave it at that. Or to 30 or 50 or 75. Or (gasp) skip a day now and then! There are no rules. Or rather, I make the rules. And nobody else cares.

**Yeah, our cat catches birds. We have switched to a schedule where he's indoors during the day, and gets to go out at night, when the birds are asleep. Sometimes, though, he sneaks out in daylight. Yesterday he brought us a song sparrow—which was alive and flew away—and a scrub jay—which was not. We need to train ourselves to keep him indoors. We're getting better at it.

***The Goldsworthy image was not actually completely random. I saw it on FB today, in a thread by a photographer friend who posted it accidentally (I think he intended to post one of his own photos). It made me happy to see Goldsworthy, though. Serendipity! And beauty! Never a bad combination.