In true weekend warrior fashion:
1. Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver on GK’s A Prairie Home Companion singing “Poor Boy Working Blues.”
Work all night and I work all day,
life just ain’t worth living this way.
Work the soles right off of my shoes,
I’ve got the poor [girl] working blues.
2. Saturday afternoon I was a lady in waiting a lady who lunches… with herself, sans large brooch, pearls, mink and Derby-worthy hat. Next time? I needed to break the day’s monotony of updating the database; so with a gift card that’d been burning a hole in my pocket, I walked across the street to Spill the Wine. Visions of the drippy grilled beef tenderloin on baguette were dancing in my head. I don’t eat enough red meat – I’m feeling anemic. Naturally the tenderloin was no longer on the menu. Hmph. On recommendation from the waitress, I had the grilled yellowfin tuna salad: with roasted red potatoes, kalamata olives, capers, asparagus, soft-boiled egg and soy-wasabi vinaigrette. [Snooty wine bar version of salad Niçoise.]
I neglected to specify “lunch portion,” so – like any money-grubbing smart waitress – she ordered the trucker salad with eight pounds of tuna on top. Looks of wonder and bemusement ran across her face upon retrieving my cleaned plate. “How did you eat all that?! You can eat!!” To her and all who question my abilities: I may be thin, but I have an appetite to behold.
For those of you who were wondering, there was no wine to be had. Blasphemy!? Eating alone I could justify; drinking by myself at 12:30p and then teetering* back to work I could not.
*I’m a cheap date.
3. My temperament is directly correlated to the weather. Brooding, gloomy, sour mood – you are mine. February in MN is manic. Temperatures yo-yo-ing, random precipitation, disgusting and dirty slush marring the once pristine landscape, and – best of all – massive puddles on top of three-inch slabs of ice. A clever guise. I catch myself mid cartoon-banana-peel moment at least once a day. One of these times… ker-splat! No wonder the hip and knee fracture rates skyrocket in the winter.
4. Huge bowls of cereal with 2% milk [and a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter for good measure] vanquish migraines. For nearly twenty years I’ve suffered from ghastly, unbearable migraines; all this time I was sitting on the cure.
5. Sunday morning at work, sipping my treacherously hot Americano and streaming The Beatles, singing heartily and swaying with wild abandon. Air guitar when necessary. Surely this compensates for working on the Sabbath. Two of the four Beatles share names with Apostles, there are more than a handful of Saint Georges, and who are we to say there wasn’t a lesser-known Disciple named Ringo? I make it a point not to argue with irony.