Skip to main content

Visitors foreign and domestic

Yesterday, I served four Texans and two Russians at my tasting bar.  Sounds like the beginning to a joke, doesn't it?  Well it kinda is.  The Russians were struggling to understand but they seemed to know English, at least a little, so I tried to make them feel more comfortable by asking about their trip to the islands.
"How long was your flight from Moscow to Hawaii?" I asked.
"October twenty-third," he said. 
Now, this, I thought, was so damn funny that it was all I could do not to burst with laughter.  But I didn't want the guy to feel any more uncomfortable than he already did, so I bit my tongue.  Literally.  Then the lady standing next to him, a Texan, turned to the man and said, "You should drink more.  It will make your English better."  She smiled and raised her glass toward him, as if to toast.  He raised his back and said, "No good English," and she looked back at me and said, "I'm lost on him.  Totally lost."  She smiled and made a swiping move with her hand over her head. 
Today, a whole family on vacation came in and when I asked them where they were visiting us from, I expected them to say Thailand.  Instead, they said, "Texas." They were a blast.  The eldest, the grandpa I think, insisted on showing me the photos in his camera of a winery he had visited near his home in Houston. When I asked his granddaughter (or maybe daughter) at the end of the bar if she would like to join in the tasting, she said, "I can't.  I have asthma."  Now, I have asthma too and I drink wine all the time.  So I thought it was comical when the young man who might have been her brother looked at me, leaned over the bar a little and whispered, "It has nothing to do with drinking wine you know. She just always says that."
"I use an inhaler," she added, as though it was a badge of honor.
I took their picture with three different cameras before they left.

I have this old box sitting on the lanai and have considered tossing it into the recycling several times, only to find Mr. Sox enjoying it's cozy environs.  What can I do?

The cold (as in virus, not temperature) is slowly making its way out of my system.  Now, it's just a rumbling, bronchial hack.

Tomorrow's another day.  A hui hou.  Aloha!  







Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud...
4 comments
Read more

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...
2 comments
Read more

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned .  I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned .  So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses.  Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees...
2 comments
Read more