Road Humps Ahead

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First, let’s get this out of the way –

Happy St Patrick’s Day, everyone.  Here’s hoping you’re looking sexy in your green attire while doing irresponsible things, just because you can.

Now, about those road humps.

There are signs around my residential area indicating the presence of said “humps” in the road. They are almost as long as I am tall, 4 across, wide and raised, but not in such a way as to cause violent upheaval to drivers.   Though I would not be likely to look at them and think, “Humps,” that is exactly what they are.  Still, the sign wording could be improved, somehow.  For now, I’ll continue to snicker like a junior high boy every time I see them.

Here’s how the week shaped up in my world:

Educationally, the most notable experience was chicken fabrication. Mine was missing a wing, but that didn’t stop me from hacking what I imagined as a peg-legged chicken hawk into grotesque slabs of flesh.  (The first breast I carved was actually really pretty, but it was all downhill from there.)  We progressed to producing a full meal menu per table, which feels much more legitimate.  Every week, I ask myself what it is I hope to gain from this experience. So far, it is the experience alone.  Because I can. 

My class schedule means I often visit places at odd hours, when no one else is around. Or when only one or two people are in sight.  I don’t mind, as it gives me the time I prefer to fully experience new venues, especially if they are food related. . I can chat up the staff because they aren’t as rushed.  I can observe the daily doings of a given establishment, and catalogue the useful bits.  I can sit and relax. Ponder. Revel.

This week I found a new coffee shop that is part of a small chain, but cooler and far superior to the Starbucks on every corner – in my opinion. Not only was the latte just what I needed, but the oatmeal bar- a big cube of caramel and chocolate chips lightly dusted with oatmeal crumbs – made me want to squeeze somebody. 

Galaxy Café won me over with their tasty sandwich, spicy herbal tea and Main Root beverages on tap.  Not to mention their support of Go Local Austin.   I sat by a window, watching the world rush on, a Galaxy employee delivering orders to outside tables in my periphery. A minute later, the same employee reemerged with a bowl of water for a customer’s dog.  That’s the kind of employee I want.  That’s what brings people, including me, back.

An evaluative moment in my week lead me to think about words. Mine specifically.  Others’ directed toward me.  Or not.  How and why we use words, the motivating choices we make about language.  I learn so much about someone not only from their stories but from the things they choose not to tell me.  Actions and motion are the stuff of life. But our utterances can spur them or damp them. Which combination of syllables will carry us over the next set of life’s road humps? It is in the doing we affect the world around us, but words prey on our insides. Whether or not we admit it, see it, like it, words matter.  And that, in the end, is why I blog. 


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