One Table Over: I-HOP

He has his food. He has his food, and he's almost finished eating. That is how long he's had his food.

I got here first, but he got a waitress before I got a waitress. He got his drink
and his food, and, now that I'm looking, he's gotten his check as well!

I got a cup of coffee.

I ordered some chicken strips, but I haven't seen them. Neither have I seen the perky blond waitress who took my order.

My menu is still sitting on the edge of the table awaiting removal.

I've checked Facebook and Blogger and started browsing Pinterest, and he's over there trying to decide how much tip to leave.

Do you know what they do at I-HOP? They leave a thermal pitcher full of coffee at your table just in case you drain your cup before you see your waitress again. I've had three cups of coffee.

Oh, yippee. There's my waitress. She's coming up the aisle. She sees me looking, but she avoids my eyes. And there she goes...

He's gone. His table has been cleared and wiped and reseated.

Ah...here she is! With a plate of...(drum roll, please)...somebody else's food! Oh, honey, that's not mine. I ordered chicken strips. (You did?) uh huh...

The new folks over there are passing the time telling lame jokes as they nibble their appetizer.

A three-legged dog walks into a bar and says, "I'm lookin' for the man who shot my paw."

Hahaha! Hilarious.

How does a man on the moon cut his hair? Eclipse it!

Wait. I got one.

Where does a one-legged man work?

I-HOP.

(I crack me up.)

She's a Keeper

In our family, we have those not-quite-relatives-but-we-claim-them-anyhow members. Rather than to go into lengthy detail about how So-and-So is my sister's first baby's daddys' second ex-wife, or This One is my first cousin's other cousin on her daddy's side, or That One divorced my brother sixteen years ago but we like her better than him, I have simplified the terminology.
These are not My Inlaws.
These are My Outlaws.

One of my Outlaws showed up on my doorstep early one day as I was hovering over the coffee maker, trying to inhale caffeine through the heavenly scent. My hair was a mess. My eyes still bleary from sleep and my plans did not include company of any sort. Bless her little heart, she came to the back door, but she knocked. I thought it was funny. Nobody knocks around here. If the dog doesn't bark, that means you're part of the family, so come on in. Looking back on it, she probably thought I was walking around indecent that early in the morning, but that never happens. Three teenaged boys live here. We practice modesty.

Anyhoo. She's my age, but she has a disorder I think she was probably born with. She's had it as long as I've known her. It's called Energy. She doesn't seem to suffer from it, but I assure you, it affects every person around her. It's sort of like Tourrette's. It's annoying and you often want to smack her for it, but the poor dear was born that way, so you just deal.

I pour her some coffee, though I don't think she needs it, and we pick up conversation from the last time I saw her. It's like that with us. It doesn't matter if we saw each other last week, or if it was two years ago. We just pick right back up where we left off.

I start to wash the dishes, because she does not like to sit down and relax, and when you are the only one in the room with her, you tend to catch Energy from her, even if it's just for a short time. She's contagious. She rinses and dries. I didn't ask her to. This is automatic.

She wants to talk about the book she's reading. She prattles on and on, and I start to smile as I listen to her because I can tell she is genuinely excited about the outcome of the story. She describes each character and her opinion of them, and what she thinks is going to happen next. Listening to her, my heart (and my head) begin to swell, and I realize how much I appreciate her intrusion into my day.

She says to me at one point about a character in the book, "Did you notice how Jeremy stood off to the side and just watched without saying anything? I think he's the stalker. Did you notice that he has a history for being a creep?"

Of course I noticed.

I wrote the book.
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