It has been quite a while since I have sat down and put thought to paper. I have lots of things churning around in my head as topics: the books that I am reading, thoughts about future career choices, anniversaries, birthdays, etc. I just haven’t had any vomit of the brain yet. So, here it is, and I am sorry for the possibility of it stinking. This post is definitely a bulimic reaction.
Over the MLK Holiday Weekend, two of my bridesmaids and I took a trip to New Orleans. I had mentioned this in a previous post, particularly that I was budgeting tightly for the trip and that I hoped to have enough money. Well, the budget was a success, a loss at the casino notwithstanding. I had a great time. It was so awesome to go to a place that is so familiar to me and yet be able to see it anew in a way. I got to experience it with them. The drinking, the walking, the swamp tour, the myriad of delicious meals were, combined, the perfect preemptive stress relief for what has become a stressful couple of weeks since. I do not want to talk about the stress. I want to relate a story that has been giving me a lot of pause.
On the Saturday night we planned to go to the Casino after having shopped in the Quarter, taken the streetcar down towards Loyola, Tulane, and Audubon Park, walking a while, looking at amazing homes, and then heading back downtown. We tried to eat dinner at Acme Oyster House, but the one in the French Quarter was rented out for a function. Probably one of the weddings we saw happening at the St. Louis Cathedral earlier in the day! (For a short digression: We saw one of the wedding parties parading with a band and doing the second line down the street from the cathedral. They now know my family is not weird. Context is an amazing thing!) So, we ended up going to a little hole in the wall place called Evelyn’s back in the Quarter.
An elderly, but sprightly, man greeted us kindly, went over the menu with us, and we decided to enjoy the eclectic New Orleans fare. We had great service for the two person establishment; we were one of two parties of guests at the restaurant/bar. As we were waiting for our food, chicken and sausage gumbo for myself, a gentleman walked in and headed straight for the restroom, obviously inebriated. Our elderly host stops him mid-stride and asks if he can help this middle-aged man. The guest answers that he is going to use the restroom. Without missing a beat our host says that he may ask if he can use the restroom. Such frankness, I think, shocked the man, but he asked to use the restroom, probably expecting a negative answer, and was ushered toward the rear of the building with no hesitation. What kindness we can be shown if we just use common courtesy.
Our host was accompanied by a hostess, a lady around our age, who I think was the granddaughter of our proprietor because she called him Pops. As soon as the other party left Evelyn’s, our host tells his granddaughter that he was thankful they left, and that she should be more choosy about who she lets in to eat. She asks why, since they were not drunk or rowdy during the football playoff game. Pointing to us he says: Because these ladies do not need to hear such language. We were included in this conversation as we were three of the five people in the establishment. The granddaughter laughs and says to Pops that times are a little different and she is sure that we have heard such language before, telling us that they were dropping F-bombs. Well, there was a knowing look around our table, but Pops was angry about the whole situation, taking their discussion into the kitchen while we finished up our dinner. (Which was pretty awesome, but not as good as my Mom’s gumbo, or Pa-Ran’s.)
We laughingly talked about our host a few times, but he just keeps popping up into my mind of late. Perhaps I need to take this as a life lesson. I knowingly admit that I have a potty mouth. And I usually try not to speak like that, but it doesn’t usually work. I try to use placebos for the big offenders, so to speak, but even those are not acceptable to others sometimes. I think a lot of my problem is that I talk before I think about what I am going to say. I need to be more thoughtful of my words, both my choice of words and exactly what it is that I say. I need to speak more pleasingly to others, and try not to have vomit of the mouth as often as I do.
This week my vow is to concentrate on using no expletives or expletive replacements. Yes, mother, that does include the word ‘balls,’ one of my personal favorites lately. So, I’m back on track to having my language get a little Closer to Fine.
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