They are back as one post, by popular demand]
Morning Vignettes PT 1 at The Little Red Roaster
I slept like a rock last night (maybe had something to do with my 40 mile ride on the exercise bike while reading ‘song for the blue ocean’ before going to bed) and woke up bleary eyed.
As I washed the blear out of my eyes my wife asked if I wanted to go the The Roaster for coffee.
“Sure,” I croaked.
The morning air must have been extra crispy because by the time we reached the coffee shop I felt somewhat alive, even energetic.
I saw two men with familiar faces and heard them talking about not having small bills to break a twenty as I squeezed into a nearby chair.
I reached for my wallet and said, “I think I can help.”
I pulled out two old fivers and a brand new ten dollar bill.
As I initiated the trade I said, “The ten just came off the clothesline this morning.”
["Thanksh for the coffee, Babe."]
One smiled, took the money, fingered the ten, handed me the twenty and said, “Feels and smells fresh.”
I knew I had a growing audience at the time so replied, “Right out of the laundry room.”
I sat down a satisfied man.
Coffee. My wife paid. Easy human contact. I established an old standard counterfeiting scenario.
And scored perfect timing with the last line as I slipped my behind into a comfy chair.
I shoulda been in movies.
[End of Scene 1.]
***
Morning Vignettes PT 2 at The Little Red Roaster
While my wife and I chatted over coffee and bagel this morning at The Roaster, I noticed a current copy of ‘the beat’ magazine atop a folded newspaper next to my elbow.
I picked it up, thumbed through pages starting at the back, and looked for ‘pegg’s world.’
Found it. This month’s story by Robert Pegg. In praise of Mr. Peanut. Photo of Mr. Peanut included.
[“Mr. Peanut rocks”]
I read the first paragraph or two, then skipped to the last. The story sounded familiar, in a good way.
And it was. It contained material from a recent blog post I’d read a few days ago at ‘sonny drysdale presents.’ All excellent, entertaining and with a great conclusion. (See 'Local and Area Links', side margin)
And that’s what we look for in good writing, right? A snappy intro, a gripping middle and a great conclusion. (Someday I may even try that stuff myself).
Sonny writes about how he was able to win a bet with his son because of his superior knowledge re Mr. Peanut.
In spite of the great conclusion, it left me troubled.
Superior knowledge I admire.
But his own kid?
[End of Scene 2.]
***
INTERMISSION
Bird Watching: "Are those squirrels back in action?"
Several times per day, no matter what I’m doing (even if it’s really, really important stuff - like writing vignettes), I’ll take a wee break and check out my bird feeders.
A few moments ago I noticed that the snow atop bother feeders was disturbed.
“Those darn squirrels are jumping out of the trees again,” I said aloud. “Where’s my shotgun?”
[Author’s note: I don’t own a shotgun. In serious situations like this, however, I sure wish I had one. A 16-gauge would be nice!]
I reached for my camera and went out back to study the damage and look for tracks.
Well, the only tracks I found belonged to small birds. They must land atop the feeders once in awhile. Makes sense to me.
There were no squirrels tracks on the ground, as well.
Though I’d besmerched the name of squirrels everywhere and appreciated the break from writing vignettes, I didn’t apologize.
[Please click here to view related photos.]
***
Morning Vignettes PT 3 at The Little Red Roaster
Men are from Mars. Granted.
Women are from Venus. Granted.
(I would even allow that women are from farther away than that).
Case in point -
While my wife and I were comfortably sipping coffee at The Roaster this morning, a woman entered who looked an awful lot like someone I’d met - and mentioned to my wife - a few weeks earlier.
I had been enjoying coffee at Williams Cafe with another retired teacher and friend when a woman sat down at the same large table - with a girl friend, but too close to me for my comfort - and almost immediately entered my world with comments related to the ongoing conversation I was having with my aforementioned friend.
Worse still, when her meal order arrived, she offered me part of her date square.
Now, I love date squares but said, "Thanks - but no," and without being rude (in my opinion), I continued to engage only with my friend.
Later, the same day, when I shared the above with my wife, I described the woman as “kinda annoying, too gregarious for my liking, interruptive.”
But when I saw the woman this morning I said to my wife, “I think that’s the lady who was being so smarmy a few weeks back.”
Immediately my wife recoiled, her nose wrinkled.
“Smarmy?” she said. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“She was being kind of... ,” I began again, then paused, drawing a blank.
My wife filled in the blank with the following, which may explain why I started this scene with reference to planets far away:
“When I think of smarmy I think of someone revolting, stinking, covered in fish guts.”
[“Fish guts? How did she come up with that?”]
WTHeck, I thought.
“Where have you been in life where you ever saw such a thing?” I said. “Smarmy isn’t that bad. It’s more like being too familiar, even clingy.”
“I agree with clingy,” she said. “Why didn’t you just say clingy, because smarmy is terrible.”
WTHeck, I thought. I not only don’t know where she picked up the fish guts imagery, I don’t know where I am in this conversation.
For 41 years I’ve known this woman.
Well, I thought I did.
[End of Scene 3.]
***
Morning Vignettes PT 4 at The Little Red Roaster
Just before my wife and I left The Roaster this morning (and after miles of interesting conversation), I got up from my chair to steal a refill of dark roast.
As I walked behind the counter I said to Karen, a girl on staff, “Don’t worry about me. I’m just stealing coffee.”
And so began my second conversation of the morning that included the word ‘smarmy.’
While filling up my large mug, and just before throwing loose change into the tip jar, I turned toward Karen and asked, “Have you heard of the word ‘smarmy?’”
“Sure,” she said.
“What does it mean to you,” I asked.
Her nose wrinkled almost right away and I thought she was going to refer to fish guts, but she mentioned a few other ideas.
We agreed upon ‘too familiar’ and a ‘little too close for comfort,’ and she finished with ‘like a weasel.’
“Yes, weasel,” I said, right away.
I have used ‘weasel’ for many years and there were times when it certainly meant smarmy.
Most of the times in the past, however, particularly when talking with elementary students, I tried to convey a positive tone with the word weasel, as in, sure, you can borrow my tape dispenser, but bring it right back, you little weasel.
[“Not all weasels are bad guys”]
I’m pretty sure most of the kids took it the way it was intended.
Ten per cent of the time one would reply, I’m not the weasel. You’re the weasel.
And I never flinched. I realized I had a winner.
Sorry, I digress.
Because Karen and I seemed to be on the same page with the meaning of smarmy, I thought I’d give another idea a test drive.
I said, “Would you say that some people - people who come across as too familiar with you - have got a touch of the smarm?”
“Oh, definitely,” she said.
Refill in hand, I returned to my seat for my coat, glad that Karen and I had had that little chat.
Good coffee. Stirring conversation. Easy, breezy human contact. Free refill. Right with the world and some strange words.
Not a bad morning.
***
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