Having been given a new set of responsibilities, I take notes

I entered and found everybody at the counter buzzing away in conversation. I did a walk around looking for pictures I might take, I looked from the back, I looked from the front across the counter where I could see their faces. I didn't see a picture that grabbed me and I was too hungry, so I sat down. Then cowboy John turned and looked at me. "When did you come in?" He asked. "You're late! Last one here has to be the secretary. Last one has to take notes."

"I will take visual notes," I said.

I took this note. Leslie immediately came with my coffee and took my order. Now she has brought me my food. I am going to eat it now.

Text added at 11:55 AM. The Squarespace nightmare continues.

Those things that were frozen at the beginning of the day remained frozen at the end

Today was the first day in quite some time that all those things that were frozen when I got up remained frozen at the end of the day. It used to be that this would typically happen earlier. Who knows what will happen next? This is the swampy fringe of the pond that my children named Little Lake when they were small.

Text added at 8:17 PM. The Squarespace nightmare continues.

The Daily School Bus, number two: why not?

Who says there can only be one daily school bus in a day? Look around you! There are school buses rolling around everywhere! I just stopped for this one on Schrock Road, while sipping my afternoon coffee from Metro Cafe.

Text added at 4:55 PM. The Squarespace nightmare continues

The fish who shouted out orders

"Hey Bill!" 13-year old Parrot Fish called out to me as I sat at my computer trying to accomplish something.

"What?!" I answered, annoyed. When you need to accomplish something it really doesn't help to have a parrot fish shouting at you. Sometimes, I wish I had got a different kind of fish. A kind that can't learn how to talk.

"I bet I can make you do something you said you weren't going to do," Parrot Fish challenged.

"No you can't!" I rebuffed.

"Yes I can! You said you weren't going to make another Instagram or blog post today. I can make you do both."

"No you can't!" I angrily shot back. "You're just a fish! You can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

"Bill! Take my picture! Instagram it! Put it on your blog!" Parrot Fish demanded.

"No!" I emphatically refused. "You can't make me!"

"Bill!…" The fish ordered again - not once, not twice, but 3822 times until I was about to go insane. I got up. I took his picture. I Instagrammed it. I am about to put it on my blog. I don't know how one can accomplish anything, with a fish such as this around. 

Breakfast at Family Restaurant, continued: compartments of the heart; The Daily School Bus

The food here is good and hearty, and before Abby started up her home cooking, I was a frequent guest. So much so that when I walked in today, waitress Connie exclaimed,"I was just thinking about you and wondering why I had not seen you for so long?" When I told her I wanted an omelette, she knew exactly what ingredients should be in that omelette and that I would want hashbrowns with it and just how those hashbrowns should be cooked. She knew I wanted multi-grain toast, "on the delay," after I had finished everything else.

During a prolonged period of deep grief during which sleep came harder than normal and then only in spurts, never for long, I would come here almost every day, frequently right at opening time of 6 AM. Often, I would be the only customer in the restaurant. I would sit here for long after I finished breakfast and slowly sip coffee. Sometimes, I would hear the rumble of the train, the whistle and then it would roll by, only its headlights visible through the reflections on the window. This morning, as I lay in bed awake at 6:05 AM I heard the distant whistle of the train. I knew that if I had already gotten up I could've sat right here and watched it roll by.

Deep grief does not leave you. You learn to live with it, to put it in a box and store that box in a compartment in your heart. The heart can hold many such boxes. Every now and then, one or more of these boxes will come out of your heart to remind you that laughter and smiles notwithstanding, the grief remains. This is good. It holds the one who is gone close to you. Yet, the moment always comes when you must put that box back in the compartment in your heart and carry on with your day.

When I arrived, Family Restaurant was nearly empty. As I leave, it is nearly packed.

Right after I began my drive home from Family Restaurant, I had to stop at an intersection. A school bus rolled by. Hence, The Daily School Bus. The Squarespace nightmare continues.

I do not think there is any need for me to blog any further this day. You never know, though.