Buying the largest sized coffee at a place where they force you to add your own cream and sugar I get a little perturbed when I see the teeny tiny packets of sugar. Doggonit I was hoping for a nice full easy flowing sugar dispenser that I could grab a hold of and turn upside down and count "one Mississippi two Mississippi three Mississippi four Mississippi five Mississippi".
The impatient psychic pain in my gut instead sees the little packets of sugar neatly placed like miniature index cards in a teeny tiny box that sits awkwardly underneath the shelf where the napkins are and carafes of skim milk, the 1% milk and the half and half.
The little sugar packets are the old style ones, the style that's been around for as long as I can remember. When I was little and at a restaurant with my grandparents my grandmother (God rest her soul) would fill her pocketbook with all the sugar packets (I think she usually left a couple so the waitress wouldn't notice and go get the manager). The first time I saw this I was stunned. "You keep your mouth shut." She fired back under her breath. After we left the restaurant and after she'd emptied the candy bowl we'd be in the car and she'd continue, "There were days during the depression when your grandfather and I didn't eat. We could barely afford a bag of tea and when we could we'd use the same tea bag over and over." On subsequent visits to the restaurant I was well trained in looking the other way or diverting the help. "Oh those are nice earrings... etc..."
Some years after the grandparents at the restaurant days I was drunk night sailing on San Francisco Bay with some folks I'd recently met. I remember this mouthy English guy and his flirtatious kissy love love Brazilian girlfriend. She'd give him a tonguey French kiss and he'd be all happy and full of compliments for the whole crew. Then she'd attack me or another crewmember with the tongue and he'd instantly go on a belittling berating angry drunk schpiel. Maybe the guy was bi-polar? Well, one of his belittling berating schpiels ticked off the wrong crewmember and she decided to get back at him when he was preoccupied with the Brazilian girl.
The ticked off crewmember just had some very expensive dental work done and he told her she had "a toothy smile". Oh this set her off. Fuming, she whispered to me, "A few months ago he was on a bareboat charter in the Caribbean with three other people and NOT that Brazilian. They were anchored in a cove off one of the islands and the other three went swimming or snorkeling leaving him alone on the boat for a WHOLE DAY. You know what he did?"
"What?"
"He ate ALL THE FOOD. EVERYTHING!!"
"How do you know?"
"He said I had a TOOTHY SMILE!"
"Portion control." I muttered.
"What'd you say?"
"Any more beer?"
"Yeah, here ya go."
"Thanks."
Fair Winds
Captain Bill
The impatient psychic pain in my gut instead sees the little packets of sugar neatly placed like miniature index cards in a teeny tiny box that sits awkwardly underneath the shelf where the napkins are and carafes of skim milk, the 1% milk and the half and half.
The little sugar packets are the old style ones, the style that's been around for as long as I can remember. When I was little and at a restaurant with my grandparents my grandmother (God rest her soul) would fill her pocketbook with all the sugar packets (I think she usually left a couple so the waitress wouldn't notice and go get the manager). The first time I saw this I was stunned. "You keep your mouth shut." She fired back under her breath. After we left the restaurant and after she'd emptied the candy bowl we'd be in the car and she'd continue, "There were days during the depression when your grandfather and I didn't eat. We could barely afford a bag of tea and when we could we'd use the same tea bag over and over." On subsequent visits to the restaurant I was well trained in looking the other way or diverting the help. "Oh those are nice earrings... etc..."
Some years after the grandparents at the restaurant days I was drunk night sailing on San Francisco Bay with some folks I'd recently met. I remember this mouthy English guy and his flirtatious kissy love love Brazilian girlfriend. She'd give him a tonguey French kiss and he'd be all happy and full of compliments for the whole crew. Then she'd attack me or another crewmember with the tongue and he'd instantly go on a belittling berating angry drunk schpiel. Maybe the guy was bi-polar? Well, one of his belittling berating schpiels ticked off the wrong crewmember and she decided to get back at him when he was preoccupied with the Brazilian girl.
The ticked off crewmember just had some very expensive dental work done and he told her she had "a toothy smile". Oh this set her off. Fuming, she whispered to me, "A few months ago he was on a bareboat charter in the Caribbean with three other people and NOT that Brazilian. They were anchored in a cove off one of the islands and the other three went swimming or snorkeling leaving him alone on the boat for a WHOLE DAY. You know what he did?"
"What?"
"He ate ALL THE FOOD. EVERYTHING!!"
"How do you know?"
"He said I had a TOOTHY SMILE!"
"Portion control." I muttered.
"What'd you say?"
"Any more beer?"
"Yeah, here ya go."
"Thanks."
Fair Winds
Captain Bill
Comments
Post a Comment