I am not a normal woman. At 7 am I could taste pancakes, sausage, bacon, grits and gravy with fried apples and two cups of coffee. I set out at 7:15 am to find them. I ended up at Denny's where the best waitresses end their shifts at 8:30 am. Fortunately I got a good one. She brought my breakfast as quickly as a server in "Defending Your Life."
I enjoyed eating at that Denny's next to the Duron paint shop, by the commercial center that is constantly changing and has been home to a Hilton and is now harboring a Ramada. Across the street is the the old Reynolds' place now the hideout of Philip Morris. It's a hard place. No one cares that I'm unwashed and unbrushed, wearing glasses, a cap that says "Ocracoke", a black chinese coat, red shoes and a sweatshirt. My waitress is wonderful. She comes right by and offers me a drink. I choose coffee which arrives in an instant. When she senses that I can't find my combo on the menu she carefully writes down my list of requirements and later calls it "The Grand Slam." I forgot the apples, though. After Nuvene went home another waitress (who barely speaks English) convinced another waitress (who obviously was put out by having to work) to get the chef to put apples into a little dish for me. I loved it all. Happy New Year!
I'm reading this totally great book, Equal Rites, left to me by my traveling daughter. It's the first time I've read a book with the author's name (Terry Pratchett) written larger than the title of the book. I love this book. I love this style of writing. Here's a sample from page 168, a footnote to "the Guild of Thieve, Cutpurses, Housebreakers and Allied Trades."
A very respectable body which in fact represented the major law enforcement agency in the city. The reason for this is as follows: the Gulld was given an annual quota which represented a socially acceptable level of thefts, mugging and assassinations, and in return saw to it in very definite and final ways that unofficial crime was not only rapidly stamped out but knifed, garrotted, dismembered and left around the city in an assortment of paper bags as well. This was held to be a cheap and enlightened arrangement, except by those malcontents who were actually mugged or assassinated and refused to see it as their social duty, and it enabled the city's thieves to plan a decent career structure, entrance examinations and codes of conduct similar to those adopted by the city's other professions - which, the gap not being very wide in any case, they rapidly came to resemble.
Rollicking fun and a good story to boot. Fortunately, Terry has written a library's worth of books. I should be set for a year or so.
So back to the theme, I'm not a normal woman. I'm not a usual woman either. I've stopped pretending to be one. Although I still stop short of removing any doubts that I might not be a normal woman. I suppose that's progress. I'm also reading The Holographic Universe by Michael Talbot.
Dressing as I did this morning does not make me a good candidate for Match.com or even eHarmony.com. I've discovered that it's all basically the same people. Those that can't find someone on Match.com or Americansingles.com or lab631 end up in eHarmony.com. Including me. Those guys are all still looking for the same thing. Either a) a little woman about the house or b) a lonely rich widow. I am neither. I'm know there are other men out there. Not-normal, unusual men who would value me for the sack of jewels that I am.
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