Almost there...

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

Oh, and then once we got back, life started back into it's normal swing. Rick and I spent Sunday doing laundry, then when it got unbearably hot, we headed for coffee and to share a little Harry Potter. We're about half way through now. We also tried the new Pick Up Stix on El Monte for dinner. It's not bad. Anne and Heraldo had a dance party at the Lucie Stern Sunday night. I headed over after dropping Rick at home since he had mussed his shirt at dinner and wasn't feeling particularly social.

I tried going back to the Plough again last night. Unfortunately, my right knee has been bothing me lately, and I just don't think I feel welcome there anymore. For years, I've brought my own water to the Plough, preferring purified water to the spring water they sell there or the tap water they provide for free. It's always seemed better to me to bring my own rather than using their cups to drink the tap water. However, the bartender was in one of her moods last night, and came around screaming about people bringing in water. She demanded to know who it belonged to. I said it was mine. She said, "Well how fucking cheap can you be. This is a bar you know." I said that as I've mentioned many times before I would happily buy from the bar if they offered purified water rather than spring water, but that since they sell Crystal Geyser, I won't buy it. Crystal Geyser has been recalled repeatedly for contamination. If I were really "fucking cheap" as accused, then I would just drink the tap water. But I'm not. I'm picky, not cheap. She ordered me to remove it, and for the sake of ending the episode, I decided to comply. Over and over again, I've said that the Plough could make so much more money by providing a better menu and faster friendlier service. The owner of the bar was there and witnessing all this, so I assume that it's okay with her for her employees to speak to her customers like that. The one thing it did guarantee was that I would not be purchasing anything that evening, or from that bartender ever ever again. That sort of attitude will not be rewarded with my cash. This was followed up later by the call for four hand jigs. When those sets seemed to be forming slowly and without enthusiasm, I said, "Hey, anyone for a Trip to the Cottage?" A few folks expressed interest, and a set started forming, but not without Patrick's scolding. He apparently felt compelled to have what he wanted called done by all. We formed our set and danced anyway. But again, it was enough to remind me that the Plough is no longer a fun place, at least for me. And that's a real shame. The ten year meter has apparently run out. Guess it's time to start my own Irish dance night somewhere and see if I can get something to bloom and grow closer to home.

As we were leaving, Kevin was having some sort of drama. I'm not sure of the details, but I think it has a lot to do with pissing Dawn off thoroughly by being 3 1/2 hours late to a four hour event on Sunday. As Paul, Rick, and I drove home, we were treated to a spectacular lightening storm. There were more lightening strikes than I've ever seen in the Bay Area. This was the weather I expected in Oklahoma, but found it at home instead. As we approached Milpitas, the smell of rain and ozone was thick in the air. Thankfully, the storm was still a little south of us. Yep, life is back to normal. A little electric. A little agitated. A little excitement when you're not expecting it. And so it goes.


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