Janelle, the baby, & I just got back from the Starvation Army, where we laid down a cool $6 and scored a suitcase, two men's shirts, a James Michener novel, and a bunch of baby clothes. Score.
Today is one of my "off" days from Il Ristorante, which I negotiated yesterday with Chad, my manager (a nice guy of twenty-five years). I have Wednesdays off as well, from now on. "I need rest, man," I told him, after pulling him aside by the salad bar. "Yeah, you look tired," he said, deftly removing a packet of fallen Captain's Wafers (c) from the Ranch dressing with a pair of plastic tongs.
So today I'm resting, chilling, and dealing with all the minutiae of my life as a prospective student that I can push to the periphery of my psyche while at work, but that crops up over time and overwhelms me when I get a few spare minutes. I call such phenomena and "things to tend to" the wolves of minutiae. Janelle understands what I mean. "The wolves are circling," I'll say to her, over morning coffee. "The wolves of minutiae, you mean?" she'll reply. And in that holy moment, I'm totally moved outside of my own ego and am thankful and grateful for this woman who digs me without me having to say too much, though I usually will anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment