Story of the Day 1/ 23/ 2009

I was in art class.
Well, it isn’t class. There is no teacher. There are no students.
It is “open studio”. We all pay some money so that there will be a model.
And there is coffee.

Coffee is important.
There was also some gingerbread cake, but that is because I brought it. It was not nearly as important as the coffee.

And I was early enough to get a good horse.
In art, horses are things you sit on. They don’t’ smell or poop or anything interesting, but they are very useful - wooden benches that hold you and your drawing board.
I was there early enough to grab a good one.
Well, to grab the one I like.
Actually, I don’t’ give a shit which one it is , as long as I don’t’ get splinters in my legs or butt, but I am picky about where it is. I like to be on the west side of the room, center, and scooted back.

Yes, it is kind of like religious services.
At religious services, I sit in the second pew behind the bima ( reader’s platform), in the second seat. And if someone is in my seat when I arrive, I sit somewhere else, but I am NOT happy. I do, however, try not to make mean faces.
Try. I don’t’ always succeed.
Working against me is the fact that I find it hard to get to services on time. Services start at 8:30. AM. I would say that 8:30 AM is for crazy people, but my husband goes at 8:30 AM, and he might read this.

Anyhow, my idea of on time is about 9:15 or 9:30. Not late enough to have missed anything important, but not so early that I can’t stay seated long enough to get past the devar (sermon) before I take my bathroom break.
Bathroom breaks are important.
They are important because I drink coffee.
And coffee is important.
And they (bathroom breaks) are important because they get me out of services.

I almost always take the long route back from them. I walk through the social hall and look for someone to waste 5 minutes with. All in an effort to make the remaining time I sit in services bearable. Bearable as in not too long. Hey, life is short and so is my attention span, but at least I am honest about it.

In our old building, some of the older guys would time the devar. If the rabbi went over 10 minutes, there was grumbling. If he went over 11, there were comments from the floor. Um, okay, they still do this in the new building, I was just being…polite. Or oblivious, or something.

Anyhow, it is a bit like that, kind of , sort of. My place was free, and I grabbed it.

On Fridays, Dick usually sits to my right. That is his “place.”
He also usually grabs a horse. The other option is an easel.
I am not an easel person. I am too lazy. I like to sit.

I will say, Dick is a lot nicer than I am. Either that or he hides his possessive streak better than I do, because, today, someone else grabbed his spot. And it was an easel person, not a horse person.

The easel guy seemed friendly enough, and vaguely familiar, but since I never remember anyone, who knows.
Since we were early, he asked me some sort of a question, and I realized that I had met him before, probably in a different open studio.

Then, he said, “ I was listening to NPR, and they have this new announcer with this very distinct lisp. I mean, why would they hire that person to announce?”

And I said, “Actually, my son announces news, on some evenings, for 89.1, and he is deaf. His speech is more distinctive than a lisp.”

Needless to say, that killed the conversation.

I think he would have preferred to have Dick glaring at him.
And he wasn’t even in my space.