Yet, here I do indeed sit. Alternately replaying this day's events in my head and observing a minor drama just outside one set of those floor-to-ceiling windows. I'll get to the day, but let's rehash this incident yet unfolding. I'd gone outside after purchasing my $2 after-2PM-grande-iced-soy-chai-tea-latte. Settled on a table with a single chair next to the drive-thru pullout. An interesting sort, a man who may have indeed once resided in Gary's present digs, sat down on a bench behind me to enjoy his drink and peruse a newspaper. I got down to the business of accessing the FREE wi-fi service at SB's which just became official today of all days!
A loud crash, sounding much like the accidental hitting of an opened car door on a neighboring parked car, interrupted my reverie. Rude! A BMW is spilling its contents, three burly crew-cut blonde dudes with open beer containers in their hands, a Styrofoam cooler which crashed into the blacktop and sent beer cans rolling, and a petite brunette gal in braids who looked like she had just returned from the beach. She looks stressed. The dudes look stupid drunk. Now, the POLICE OFFICER who was walking by, ready to hit the food joint next door for a quick evening meal on his break no doubt, looked a bit perplexed. But he quickly pulled it together and jumped right into investigating the Three Stooges aspect of it all. The man behind me chatted on about it as did I for a bit. An hour later, the officer and his radioed backup just issued the final citations and wrapped it up in a tidy law-enforcing bow. The chatty, slightly off-center man left for awhile, wandering off through the adjacent parking lots. However, he has returned, now sitting across from me with his previously abandoned newspaper, murmuring to himself and thumbing through the local headlines. Methinks this is a regular haunt and hangout in his daily schedule. Still, I'll keep an eye on him.
Years of visiting at the big bad state-run institutions has smoothed me into a seasoned veteran. No longer nervous. Not intimidated. Able to chat it up with officers with ease. Confident that any bumps in the road can be handled. I lugged in the goodie bag of edibles. Somehow I forgot the blackberries and strawberries in the rented red Toyota Camry, but we did not go hungry. (I walked for TWO hours on the hospital ground to counter my food fest, in fact!) Rainier cherries, reduced-fat original Pringles, In-n-Out burgers, with fries for Gary, 69% dark chocolate squares, mom's whole grain oatmeal-goodness bars, Red Vines -- the ONLY true red licorice candy, you misguided Twizzler fans hear me?! Sarah said we needed Skittles Crazy Cores, so there was a large bag of colorful chewy candies present. I did crunch on a carrot. Water for me; one Pepsi and one Mountain Dew for the brother-man. And, one vending machine cinnamon roll which one some random magazine taste test award from 2005 to 2009. Oh, and lite microwave popcorn. Friday's menu: bacon-banana pepper-mushroom pizza, salad, and lots of berries, washed down with a frozen chocolate cake I'm planning on getting at Raley's tomorrow morning. (Gary was admiring such a confection at the next table over during our confab.)
Alarmed at my lack of solitaire skills, my well-schooled-in-the-solitary-arts sibling taught me a few versions of the game for future reference. I almost wish I had a deck now for my squeaky-floored on-grounds dorm room this evening. (It's rather uplifting to realize I'll be sleeping less than a quarter mile from him for the next two nights!)
All of this and yet the real meat of the day happened in between bites and chews and swigs, before and after the Aces and Kings and heart and spades. But all of that will have to come on The Reluctant Suburbanite blog as it's more cumbersome. Already, I've pushed past my daily exercise on this blog. I'm none too gifted in the short and sweet of writing. Surprise, surprise! It was about as good a day as one can have at a state psychiatric facility. Take it from me and mine.
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