Have I told you about the Wonder? Surely I have. What a woman! Those pouty lips, those emerald green eyes, that strawberry blond hair.
When I wished her a happy MLK day, she gave me a certain look. Not the response I expected and I counted it as quite a slice of fruitcake, let me tell you. I realize that she's recovering from surgery and suffers some discomfort yet but still, I was somewhat disappointed.
I didn't expect unbridled happiness. I know the Russian soul, burdened as it is by centuries of angst, is not prepared for unbridled happiness, and so it was probably for the best that the morning played out the way it did.
I didn't expect unbridled happiness. I know the Russian soul, burdened as it is by centuries of angst, is not prepared for unbridled happiness, and so it was probably for the best that the morning played out the way it did.
The Renaissance district of Durham, near Jordan Lake, rarely gets the praise that's lavished on the rest of the city by the Top-10-Places-to-Live media. Probably due to the glitter of high-end retail.
Despite the surface appearance, a rich tapestry of subculture makes the Renaissance a great place to be on any given morning and especially a holiday morning.
Out in the bright sunshine, I began to feel the joy that attends a Monday holiday, and after the usual qigong tryst, I entered the doors of Dulce Cafe with a light heart and a tra-la-la on my lips.
Despite the surface appearance, a rich tapestry of subculture makes the Renaissance a great place to be on any given morning and especially a holiday morning.
Out in the bright sunshine, I began to feel the joy that attends a Monday holiday, and after the usual qigong tryst, I entered the doors of Dulce Cafe with a light heart and a tra-la-la on my lips.
"Grande dark," said the barista placing my usual on the counter. This was not the desired tone. Too cool, too indifferent, too uncaring. I'd had my quota of indifference and this was just all wrong.
The barista was, no surprise, Amy Normal, emergency backup mistress of the greater South Durham night, and her attitude of barely tolerable disdain for the clientele is due to her fighting the forces of darkness all night, applying complex eye makeup and facial hardware each morning, and the maintenance of her forbidden romance with the manga-haired, love monkey (her words not mine), Foo Dog.
The barista was, no surprise, Amy Normal, emergency backup mistress of the greater South Durham night, and her attitude of barely tolerable disdain for the clientele is due to her fighting the forces of darkness all night, applying complex eye makeup and facial hardware each morning, and the maintenance of her forbidden romance with the manga-haired, love monkey (her words not mine), Foo Dog.
"Good morning, Amy," I said in measured tones, and I meant it to sting.
"It may be good for you," she said, "but you don't have to open this cafe after a night of being stalked by the ninja vampire cat that threatens the Renaissance, do you?"
I must admit that this new motif did present an interesting diversion but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that just yet.
"There is that," I said.
"If you only knew how fragile the defenses are that keep the general public from general disaster, you would cry like a baby and wet your pants," she said with a hard-edged eye.
"Oh, I don't know," I said nonchalantly, "it may not be as bad as it sounds when you consider that the general public can be so very annoying with little or no provocation."
She started, spilling a customer's skinny, mocha something-or-other and then stared at me with the look of someone caught feeding Fruit Loops to her betas.
"I wish I'd said that," she said with a thoughtful air and I immediately logged into SuperBetter and gave myself 10 points for meaningful human contact. There is more good than bad in each moment if only we take a deep breath and look for it.