If you take me out to a nice restaurant where they put the butter in little balls and then let me order a Shirley Temple, I will probably do this with the stem.
I’m a true artist.
Today, while riding in the car to the Swiss Pork Store, we passed a restaurant called “Tasty Crêpes.” My father turned to me and says, “Tasty creeps? Now there’s a store I’d want to avoid!”
In a annoyed voice, Pippa protested, “Dad! It’s crêpes, not creeps!”
And so began a banter of “Creeps!” “No, crêpes!”
Then, just like a ten-year-old boy, my father gleefully said, “Infinite creeps. I win!”
I just rolled my eyes and said, “Turn left on River.”
But on days like today when I feel so sad my stomach hurts, these little moments are just what I need for a pick-me-up.
Fact: Today, I had lunch by myself in a restaurant.
Explanation: It was the first day of midterm week, and I only had one test, which was great. I came in at eight, sat and listened to a string of presentations, and then had to leave. Of course, I had no way to get home, because it’s over two and a half miles, and I was an IDIOT and wore moccasins. (Clearly, I will never learn.) They were cute, thin, and black and looked so nice with my ballet sweater. What they did not do was protect my feet from the snow.
While I only had one test, all of my friends had two. So essentially, I was stranded with no where to go for two hours. After making plans with Cecelia to meet up later, I started my lollygagging adventure. I stole Cecelia’s book and headed off towards the Plaza, which is a part of town with a bunch of stores and restaurants, mostly centered around a small park. I wandered my way over to the bookstore, which is independent and all blond wood floors and maple bookshelves. After picking up a million books and reading the blurbs on the back, I ordered a critical biography of Kate Chopin for my senior thesis. But I so wanted to buy out the whole store. Or at least the whole short story section.
Then, I faced a huge ethical dilemma. Do I go buy crêpes or go to the coffee/tea house? The coffee/tea house won out, and I took up residence at a table in the back. Much cozier and private. I had been so anxious an hour earlier that I had been scratching my arm ferociously (a fast way to an interestingly shaped scar), but when I was sitting in a black wooden chair, running my finger over the contours of my teacup, and admiring the tin ceiling, it all slipped away. Everything was lovely and peaceful again. No more racing thoughts, it was just me and a cup of peppermint tea, a book, and the impending arrival of a BLT on thick Texas toast and a raspberry banana milkshake.
It always surprises me just how lovely it is to go out for something entirely on my own. You would think that it would just exacerbate my problem of getting entirely lost in my head and unhappy thoughts, but every time it ends up calming me down. In so many ways it’s just as nice, or maybe even nicer, than going with other people. There’s less noise and fewer decisions to make. There’s an odd amount of solace and tranquility in sitting in restaurants alone, and after today’s success, I plan to do it more often.
Fact: Today, Cecelia and I made the last VERY minute decision to go see The Kings Speech, and it was amazing.
Explanation: Cecelia and I have been meaning to see The King’s Speech ever since it came out. But like so many things that my friends and I mean to do, the plan kept falling through. I wouldn’t get out of bed, she’d be babysitting, we’d both have homework, the list goes on. So today when Cecelia drove me back to my house in Jeff the Stationwagon (we were planning to study for AP Government and Politics midterm on Monday), we talked about trying again to see it this weekend. After I managed to somehow attach my glove to the newspaper bag, and Jeff managed to block a school bus, we looked up show times. And lo and behold, there was a showing at 4:10, and it was 3:51. We looked at each other, nodded, and ran out of the house.
I ran in to buy the tickets, and Cecelia found a spot downtown. I think that we were the only ones in there under the age of 60. But that never matters to me; I love old people. And the film was excellent. Absolutely excellent. Cecelia got her fill of the ever handsome Collin Firth, and I made a long mental list of things to Wikipedia when I got home.
I’m very rarely spontaneous, so it was exhilarating to rush downtown, willing the cars in front of us to actually drive at the speed limit and for there to be a perfect parking space on the street. It was wonderful to dash into the theatre, hurriedly buy tickets and pace back and forth, waiting for Cecelia to come running through the door, so that we could hurry down the thin red carpeted hallway to the theatre door and tiptoe down the aisle, whispering about what the best remaining seats were. (The run-on sentence award of the the week goes to Ella.) The excitement was invigorating, and I felt truly happy for the first time in weeks.
Wish: I wish every day could be as filled with as much happiness and peace as today.