Dinner out with H - and a mystery

Miss America 8 3/4" 4-part divided relish in pink by Hocking Glass Company, circa 1935-1938

Work, again today, was a living hell.

8,000 follow-ups to do, calls, evil customers, etc. I figured it out later. Any time I take a holiday, or time off, I get the "holiday screamer"; some person frantically trying to get something pushed through before the company shuts down for a couple of days. Usually, what they want is un-doable, and usually that un-doability is because they have procrastinated for days, weeks, even months prior. Yet because they have finally decided to take action, they expect you to stop the earth from turning, and produce miracles out of your butt to get them whatever they want. Needless to say, my ass (despite compliments) is miracle-free. Such scenes invariably turn ugly when the insistent one is forced to confront cold reality - usually at my desk.

Apparently God (or fate, Buddah, or whatever your personal belief systems supports) has chosen to take it easy on me for the last year or so. I have left for vacations and holidays relatively free of holiday screamers for a while now. Must be pay-back time. I was so stressed when I got out of work that I stopped for a pack of cigarettes on the way home, which I hardly ever do.

To make matters more lovely, the highway was at a complete stand-still when I got off work. Apparently there was an eight-car pileup AND an overturned tractor-trailor. Fortunately I was able to see it in time, and went home through town. It took longer than usual, but not as long as it would have on the highway.

I got home, fed the cats, straightened up a bit, put on an outfit that basically said "Really, the only reason I'm not wearing sweats is because you're buying dinner.", and poured myself a glass of the wine I thought H had left on my porch last weekend. H was late, caught in traffic on 85. That was fine, it gave me time to have a cigarette on the front porch.

When he got to the house, I thanked him for the wine. He handed me a bottle when he came in, but told me he hadn't left the wine on my porch last weekend. So I'm thinking who the hell left it then?? It was too late, I had already drank some at that point, so I just hoped it wasn't some crazed wine-poisoner or something. Then we went through the "What do you want to eat?" thing, which makes me nuts. I had planned on going up to Sushi-Masa, but it was all the way across town, back up blighted highway 85. There is no sushi place close to the house, and neither one of us knew what we wanted to eat. I finally just decided on pizza. There is a fantastic place right up the road that does Greek Italian called Gourmet Pizza. Their food is really good.

We talked and ate, and I managed to polish off half of a huge pizza, after eating a salad. But it was really good pizza. I told him some of my family history (no one should have to endure that all in one sitting), and he told me some stories about people in his congregation, and showed me pictures of his daughter, upon whom he apparently dotes.

When we got back to the house, lo and behold, he had been through his attic and brought me some glass. A nice Miss America pink divided relish (in perfect condition), and a green candy dish and intruguing blue bowl, neither of which I could identify. He also brought me a Carnival Glass covered dish (it looks like a powder jar) with a Scottie dog on the top. He used to have a Scottie, and had apparently picked it up at the time. I thought that was very nice of him. We spent some time talking about glass and looking through the glass books, and he told me about some glass he owned. Apparently he had a huge set of Miss America that his ex took when she left. Too bad.

I told him about my blog, and he said he would read it. I think he was a bit worried about what I had written, although I assured him I had taken steps to assure his anonymity, and had written nothing that would be a surprise to him.

It was much more pleasant to spend time with him when we were not in theological debate. Of course God and religion came up (they tend to do that when you have dinner with a minister). He seems to find it very amusing that when I look up Bible passages, I read them in the King James version first. Apparently that went out with button-shoes. But I tried to treat him pretty much as I would any other friend I was having dinner with tonight, and for the most part it seemed to work. It was a nice evening.