Wait up!

I had a lunch date with a dear friend of mine a week or so ago.  We had agreed to meet at Punch's Pizza, a Neapolitan pizza place that always convinces me I need to eat an entire pizza by myself and not share with anyone.  I have fork tines sharpened and poised to attack anyone who gets any ideas about sampling my Margherita without advanced notice.  All that gooey buffalo mozzarella and that heavenly basil and those juicy fresh tomatoes.....yum.  But I digress. 


I arrived shockingly early by an entire five minutes.  I was very proud of this.  The line was pretty long and getting longer, so I decided to go ahead and get in line while waiting for Linda.  Every few minutes I would let a couple of people go ahead of me so we wouldn't be throttled when she came in and slipped ahead of the growing crowd.  After about twenty minutes the door swung open to let in a new gaggle of co-eds, and through the downpour I saw Linda searching the crowd.  I waved and called her name.  Still she scanned the crowd. I waved again and hopped up and down a little bit.  She turned and headed up the sidewalk.  The heavy wooden door slammed behind her.  


Shoot.  I excused myself from the line and headed after her.  That woman walks fast.  She was about half a block ahead of me, and I was trotting after her in heels sans umbrella in the rain. 


"Linda!"  She must have thought I came and left when she was late.  Gosh the traffic is loud here.  Are there noise ordinances on these buses?  My eardrums hurt.  


"Linda!"   I'm gaining on her.  Just a few more steps.  Oh, come on!  Seriously Mr. Traffic Light?  You just had to change right before I got there?


"Linda!"  


I dashed across the intersection as soon as the little man turned white.  I grabbed her shoulder and stuck my head under her umbrella.  

"Linda!  Thank goodness!  I've been chasing you for three blocks!"




Her name was Stacey.  

Poor helpless me

In general, I love being competent.  I have little time for the helpless female role.  The other day, however, I wished I were more of the damsel in distress type of girl.

It was snowing and freezing, but I was on a mission.  I needed to get to Wal-Mart, the doggie park for my darling Pup's don't-drive-me-crazy exercise, Sam's Club, the grocery store, and the library.  All those stops and a two and a half hour window in which to do them.  Not a problem.  Until I got to my car.

Stuck on ice in the driveway behind my landlord's van.

Three flat tires.

No windshield wiper fluid.

Gas gauge hovering above E.

At this point the damsel in distress music should have begun, but I pointed out earlier I'm not really the type.  I put pup in the car, switched my heels for those infamous snow boots, and chipped out the snow and ice to get traction to get around the van.

I knew there was an air pump at the gas station a block down on the corner.  I inched the car there only to be greeted by a large "Out of Order" sign covering the air pump.

Sigh.

I filled up with gas and topped off the wiper fluid.  Then I inched back out onto the road.  I knew there was another service station three blocks up.  I very, very slowly drove that way.  The man in the car behind me was less than appreciative of this fact and did not seem to care one whit that my tires were flat.  He honked his horn at me. Continuously.

For three blocks.

This is why I sometimes think being competent is overrated.  DH would never have let this sort of thing happen if I were the helpless maiden type.  He would have puffed out his manly chest, checked everything, and taken care of all problems beforehand so his dainty little wife wouldn't have to dirty her pretty hands. I explained this theory to my neighbor and revealed my new plan to be helpless.

He smiled and in his darling Polish accent informed me, "That's good idea Q, but no one who has met you will buy it."

Modern art and footwear

S. spoiled me terribly. My first night there she made an amazing pasta and incredible dessert. I hadn't eaten that well since I left the States. We stayed up way too late talking and drinking wine. It reminded me of when I stay with her sister. We do the same thing. I'm always tired the next day, but it's worth it.

She had parent-teacher conferences for her son V. the next day, so she arranged for me to tour a modern art exhibit with some friends of hers. The Neues Museum was wonderful - very sleek and minimalistic, and her friends were darling. The exhibit was Marcello Morandini, an immensely talented artist/architect/designer. The tour guide was very thorough; she talked for almost two hours.

Unfortunately, the tour was in German, and I tend to dislike modern art.

S. and V. picked me up from the museum, and we went for a walk in the old town. There's a fountain in the center, Schoner Brunnen, that has a lovely myth associated with it. The Glucksbringer (golden ring) set into the fence is supposed to grant your wishes or bring you love if you turn it 360 degrees. I'm always up for luck and love, so I gave it a spin. Based on the rest of my trip, I think I spun it the wrong direction.



We ate lunch at (I think) Zum Gulden Stern. They have the cutest little sausages with kraut. It's much like Prague in that you share a table with whomever is at the other end. V. had homework to finish, so S. called him a cab and sent him home after lunch. I thought this was fabulous. How fun to have your own driver! I would have pretended to be very famous and important.

S. and I continued the tour of the old town. As most all of you know, I have a distinct weakness for beautiful shoes (and clothes) that often outweighs the practicality issues I might face. I was wearing red crocodile skin open-toe heels. They are fabulous. They are not, however, all that appropriate for walking up a cobblestone path to an ancient castle as noted by the cute road worker as we passed by.

I did look cute though.