Tonight I had an hour to wait in a different part of town so I decided to treat myself to dinner. I saw a diner with lots of cars in the parking lot, and thought that might be a good choice. I did not note that the cars in the lot were mostly very big and more than slightly old.
The clientele, like their cars, were more than slightly old. I fit the demographic,except for the more than slightly old big car.
I am pretty sure that the menu hasn't changed in 40 years: iceberg salad, pork chops, chicken or ham, canned corn and rice pudding or ice cream. Just like mama used to make.
Sitting alone in the restaurant among the silver haired ladies and bald men, and the walkers, canes and portable oxygen, I felt pretty fortunate to be independent and mobile - and pretty smug about my small car and my life as a non-smoker.
I would have loved to have had a dining companion, and truthfully,some of the old bald guys looked pretty good, but I think that next time I will choose the restaurant with smaller cars in the lot, and dark greens on the menu.
In November
2 days ago
6 comments:
I would have joined you at this diner from another time, another place. Just once though ....
Love this post and can relate in many way :)
A long day and you have given me
my evening smile.
I am also noticing that some of the silver haired gents look kind of nice. But have enough to keep me busy - unless they come with a gardener and keep the trails in the woods clean :)
Yes, we have a couple with older clientele here, and to survive they have to bring in the younger crowd. Then again, there are those moments when the chops and potatoes taste really good. :)
How did I miss this blog post, I love it!
You're my kind of thinker...whatever that is...lol!
Tuesday has a name. It’s called Lynn’s Day Out. By myself I roam, amble, plunder and thoroughly indulge myself. I have no destination except for a stop anyplace I choose for dessert. When we go out as a couple I never have room in my tummy for dessert. Your comment about companionship during a meal prompts me to an observation. As a people watcher I’ve noticed couples in restaurants don’t talk to each other. It starts with the salt. She know he should not have any. She’s been cooking tasteless meals for years because of what the doctor said. He says pass the salt, she slides it over and the chill is on. Big cars, little cars; it’s all the same.
Tuesday has a name. It’s called Lynn’s Day Out. By myself I roam, amble, plunder and thoroughly indulge myself. I have no destination except for a stop anyplace I choose for dessert. When we go out as a couple I never have room in my tummy for dessert. Your comment about companionship during a meal prompts me to an observation. As a people watcher I’ve noticed couples in restaurants don’t talk to each other. It starts with the salt. She know he should not have any. She’s been cooking tasteless meals for years because of what the doctor said. He says pass the salt, she slides it over and the chill is on. Big cars, little cars; it’s all the same.
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