I got back into doing the things this past week:
On Friday I saw a movie with a friend:
On Saturday my old workmates from the restaurant where we used to work 30 years ago got together for breakfast at the restaurant. The owner joined us and actually treated us, which was super sweet. We told stories and had such a great warm time. The food was delish. The restaurant is closing in a month or so and our old boss is retiring to garden and surf.
On Sunday I was able to clear out my home office, which gave me some peace of mind.
Monday was my first real day back at work after being mostly out of the office for a month or more. We got right back into it, doing 5 hours of oral history with the founder of the company. After work, a weaving class.
On Tuesday mrguy had chemo and then got a fever in the evening. We had the most pleasant ER experience you can have. There were very few people in the waiting room, we were seen within 15 minutes and got a room quickly. We are old hands at this so we each had our noise-canceling headphones. This was good, because there was a patient on a gurney in the hallway all night who talked loudly and nonstop, while being watched over by a security guard. Mrguy heard him say that he'd seen "Jim Brown and Adolf Hitler at the Warfield". The doctors found nothing wrong, but they gave him a chest xray to be sure, and also some infusions.
When you have a weaving class on Monday, everything looks like inspiration on Wednesday:
On Thursday I learned that my most persistent bucket list item will come to pass. Amazing. And at the club, we had Scottish night. I've learned that this is always the final event of the "season". Who knew? I had a great conversation with a guy from one of the visiting groups about his Titanic archive, digitizing historical collections and a little about the forklift collection. And from two other fellows I learned about their tartans. One tartan had a special color that was matched to some of his clan tartan that was dug up, somehow. It was such a beautiful red. Delish.
My brush with unfortunate masculinity came when I struck up a conversation with a young man whose hat I admired. Then I saw his sporrin, which was made from a badger. It was so beautiful. I love badgers. He said that I'd know his father if I saw someone who had an arctic fox sporrin. Once found, the father sat with me. He was a Fred Willard type, wearing both his Scottish regalia and a large quantity of oversized turquoise jewelry. It made for an interesting combo. I felt confused by our interaction because he kept gesticulating close to my boobs while we were talking -- not to grab them, but more flailing. I felt trapped, as the nice guys I met had left and Fred Willard and I were the only two left at the table. We were seated, so I ended up taking a defensive posture with my shoulder raised towards him. I just didn't want to make a scene while we were hosting this group. I also felt like this guy had been busting people's personal space for 40 years and he already knew. Eventually I just grabbed my stuff and said "I'm going upstairs, now!"
There was some beautiful bagpipery, and ceremonial haggis blessing, and the recitation of Robert Burns poetry. I have never heard so many "skoll" toasts! The Scots started on a higher pitch due to their relative youth and preponderance of tenors. Ours are a bit lower in timber. My goal is to start a "skoll" at the club some day. It's like starting The Wave. You know that SNL sketch from forever ago where someone claims that he started a particular wave? I wanna be that guy!
We had salad and haggis and soup and as the evening went on there were lots of songs of what I call the Shaggy Dog Song genre. Then the Ole and Lena jokes were offered by the Norsemen among us. It became 9:30 and the main course had not been served, and I had to work the next day. I was sitting in my preferred spot at the table, with the door to the hallway behind me. It makes me feel less claustrophobic. So I just put on my jacket, quietly picked up my purse, said farewell to Knut and slipped out the back hallway that leads from the kitchen to the entry. Escape! I'd had a great adventure, and enough for the night. I was a bit peckish when I got home.
On Friday I did 4 more hours of oral history with our company's founder. Then some research on a completely different topic, and then I found myself staring into space so I went home. I felt like I had completed things going into the weekend, and that is a fantastic sensation.
Today's excitement is a memorial for a friend. Back in the day he was one of my favorite customers from the restaurant. One of the few who treated me like he knew I was a person outside of the restaurant. His partner is a longtime friend of mrguy. The crossover is huge. He worked at a local radio station in his spare time, so there are people from there (including ms scandiwaiian), people from work, friends of mrguy...I'm a bit nervous about going to something like this without my man, but I gotta represent. Also people will be curious about mrguy if they know his situation. He's feeling gross after chemo.
After that I'm meeting a known Norwegian for a glass of wine. Whew!