Diary Entry #8: Off-Kilter Sunday, Chinese Restaurant, Thank You
Let’s talk about food tonight. My family, earlier today, dined at our favorite Chinese restaurant. Right now, if you’re anything like me, you’re thinking, “Honestly Mitch. Who gives a s*#!”.
If you take three minutes and read the rest of this article, I can’t promise any significant, measurable benefit. As a matter of fact, this is going to be one of my less obnoxious, happy-go-lucky, whoop-de-fucking-do articles. You’re not even going to get a good, sarcastic, literary-kick-in-the-ass chuckle. But, here we go anyway!
We’ve all been there. You and your family wake up one fitful morning. You all feel just a bit off-kilter, just a bit out of sorts.
Nonetheless, the family-team plans to move through the day, footloose and fancy free; not a goddman, externally noticable care in the world. WoHoo!
We packed the toddler and the grandparents into the Rav 4 and made haste for a quick jaunt to the New York Botanical Gardens.
The jaunt was not quick.
Take a deep breath, I’ll get to the food part soon.
Abysmal New York traffic (agitated by street fairs, commencement ceremonies and road-raging-gridlocked-douchebags) was more unpleasant then Sunday-usual.
The twenty minute sprint took an hour and forty minutes. It seemed like all the street farers, new college graduates (and their families) and road-raging-gridlocked-douchebags were, apparently, also going to the Botanical Gardens. Everyone was there.
The fruitless, bumper-to-bumper slog ended with an unexpected, foul smelling thud. There was NO WHERE TO F%#*@$! PARK!
We zigged and zagged, bumped and ran, thunk and stunk and eventually found roof top parking. A perilous walk across a busy, pedestrian’s-don’t-have-the-right-of-way, New York street and we were in the Bronx’s royal garden.
It was nice. It was almost great. Yet, that slight edge, that feeling the world is just a few degrees off it’s axis was still there. Even the in-bloom, badasses of multi-colored flora, the Peonies couldn’t shake the cactus-like, prickly doldrums.
WTF? I didn’t really care what was wrong. I just wanted it to be right.
We left the Gardens satisfied, if not (still) a bit moody.
Thank god we had the good sense to hit Hillsdale and strap on our Sunday night feedbags at the Golden Dynasty.
The moment I walked in front door and tripped on the third step up (as I often do), my self-centered, no-reason-to-be-unhappy, semi-silent, psycho babble subsided.
The waitress who always refers to our toddler as “handsome” greeted us with a genuine, enriching, the-best-thing-of-the-day-smile. We ordered, we ate, we talked about people, we laughed, we took in the moment.
There’s something about leaving home for a few hours and going to some other place that’s home. Then when you come back home, you kind of appreciate everything you have. And then, a day of edginess (almost in an instant) morphs into a real-life, magical mirage.
Don’t know how or why, but the shit works every time.
Goodnight America.
