A picture worth a thousand words

My Zune has me completely flummoxed. This, of course, surprises no one. Not one of my acquaintances or friends or family will be in the least surprised to hear of this, for it is well known that I AM A DOLT when it comes to complex and/or intricate works. I am a simple-minded individual, mostly by design. If I am complex, I hide it well, even fooling myself at times.

An extraordinary thing happened today. It is Sunday, and it has been an extremely loooooooooong week. At the best of times, I can acknowledge my failings as a mother and balance them against my successes. This was not one of those times. If you are not a parent, don't rush to be one - the pain can, at times, be...well, nearly (and perhaps even) unbearable. Soul crushing, quite honestly...

In any case, it's been a long week and a hidey-hole seemed like a good idea. But one can only hide under the covers for so long before they get turtle-head (that strange lightheadedness that comes from breathing twice and thrice used oxygen) and also the cat wanted food. So I got dressed and went to the store.

And then, because I was halfway there, I determined to follow through with my plan to do one thing to challenge my social anxieties this weekend, and decided to EAT OUT ALONE.

There is a little place next to Rite Aid, a teriyaki place where the owners/cooks/servers are all nice to the extreme. So armed with my current choice of reading, I set about dining out seulement.

Wouldn't you know it, the teriyaki place was closed on Sundays. Bah. So I got in my car with the cat food and other sundries and turned the car to head for home. How I ended up at Matador's, I'm not entirely sure. I just know I was talking to Amy and she was giving me sage advice and there I was in the parking lot of a restaurant that I certainly could never, would never eat in alone.

I wondered, though, if they might have a salad, so I wandered in (there were all of 3 other people in there) and sat down at a high counter that had a tabletop firepit upon it (which I had just mentioned to l'ange I'd like to just sit next to a fire somewhere and read) and opened my book and began to read.

Now, it took the waitress quite some time to realize there were four patrons, not three, but I was jiggy with that as I wasn't in any hurry to move once I sat down. Eventually she came and took my order for a diet coke and a salad and I returned to reading my book with my face turned towards the warmth of the flickering flame.

I sat thusly for some 45 or so minutes, nibbling and sipping and reading, when two men came in and, surveying the whole of the nearly empty establishment determined to sit on the direct opposite side of the firepit, which separated us, them and me, by oh, four feet.

"Simmer down," I told my anxious soul, "they are likely gay and hoping to enjoy a romantic dinner by firelight.

They were not gay. They were camera buffs. And they were there to talk shop and shoot pics. And, seeing as how they were sitting next to a lovely flickering firepit, they quite naturally determined that nothing is as artistic as a picture of flickering flames.

And so they turned their 35mm cameras at the firepit and at the girl sitting shyly in shadow on the other side, reading a book.

I couldn't believe it. I shifted uncomfortably (this you can well imagine). I turned a little away (I know you can see this in your mind). I held the highest hopes that they would hear the cry of the bar full of exotic tequilas lined up picture perfect and doubly reflected in the mirror. I eventually turned my back completely to them and away from any reasonable light with which to read my book, and finally, when it became obvious that they were well into their subject and not intending to turn from it any time soon, I reviewed my options - give them a "meaningful" look, ask them to please not take pictures in my direction, move to another table, pay quietly and leave...

I had, after all, accomplished my goal of walking into a bar alone and sitting alone and eating alone. I could mark the day, the weekend a success, yes, indeed.

Instead, I turned. And I set my open book back on the rim of the firepit where the light was just perfect, and I took a sip of my diet coke, and I went back to reading in the face of their wide-angle lens times two.

They continued to snap pictures and I continued to read and eventually they left with their cameras, and eventually I left with something far greater than I came in with.

I know there are those who are wondering when I will perfect the painting that is me. Today I am happy having perfected a single stroke.