A post in which it is a nice Sunday*

Well as if I didn’t get enough rest yesterday, I planned to spend today as a rest day. My last couple of weekends have been action-packed. A rest day just wasn’t in the cards though. Russ set up a brunch for this morning for us with Scott, since he was staying over last night. That was great. I got the critter-call about 9:30am (which is breakfast in my book, thank you very much), but it turned out that it was a good thing Russ called early. When I got to the house I went to wake up Scott, one thing led to another, and the virtue I had built up last night was wiped away in the blink of an eye.

We did go out to breakfast, and had a good appetite. Breakfast was good, but surprisingly expensive. We went to the Marriott off of Pelham. I had been there before with Dad, and was surprised at the small crowd. That little mystery was solved today. So points for the food, and points for it not being a mad-house (there are a surprisingly small number of breakfast places in Greenville, which always makes it a bit of a crush), but $15 a plate is a bit pricey to me for breakkies. I used to pay it gladly at Johann's (God rest his soul), but that man turned out food that would make angels weep it was so good. Then again, he had cooked for the crowned heads of Europe. Deservedly. And lucky them. It's a sad story. But I digress.

So Scott went on home (he gave me his phone # - yay), and I tried not to ruminate too much on the fact that he just lost his job last week. After 10 years at the same place though, and he’s only 42. Besides, hello, he hasn’t asked for me to marry him or anything. At that point I got a call from my old friend Michael. I had at long last decided to give him the Ethan-Allen wingbacks which have graced my living room lo these many years. They have been good chairs, and still look good, but a) I have a man chair now and their crowdin' me; b) I’ve been a bit in conflict over having two large pieces of leather furniture for a while now; plus c) I promised him the chairs in exchange for his letting me use an air conditioner he had for my apartment on Earle St. I was very poor at the time, and could never have bought my own, so this was a great boon. It’s also been so long ago that when I called him, he quipped “What, did you die?” So I guess it was, indeed, about time.

I ran home, straightened up the house a tiny bit, and prepared to receive visitors. I was hoping that Michael would sit down and visit for a bit. It’s been a while since I saw him and I wanted to catch up a little. Fortunately he arrived with both the time, and a very young man with him. We talked, visited, re-lived the good ole days, and basically bored the stuffing out of that guy until it was time we both got moving. They loaded the chairs, along with a few other things that needed new homes, and went on. I would so much rather give things away to friends than just dump them out at the Salvation Army. I’m a bit sentimental about my things, as I guess most people are.

By the time our visit/gab session/furniture moving was done, it was time to meet Russ and Billy for dinner. Tonight, unfortunately, the choice was Sakura. I’ve eaten there before, and was pretty much underwhelmed. For some reason all the sushi places close on Sunday, perhaps because of the strong Southern tradition of Sunday dinners being for family. That’s my theory anyway. Rarely does granny want to belly up to the sushi bar. But I digress. Again. As I say, Russ and Billy (and a couple of other people) had tried to steer me back in there, but I had been mostly silently (a shock, I know) but strenuously steering the other way. But Russ and Billy had a bee in their bonnets, and so I decided just to get this out of the way. Which Billy was a bit nonplussed about when I announced that at the table. I knew they wouldn’t be dissuaded, however advisedly. The food was actually worse than the last time I was there. I had an oyster roll that had actual chips of oyster shell in it. I just picked around them. I had a tuna roll in which the tuna had been through some nastification process to make it like a slimy spread. Yeah. As Sophia Petrillo says “When you’re as right as I am, you don’t have to say it.” I just soldiered on. By the end of the meal, they saw my point. So that’s done. I went back to the house and visited for a while, but it’s a school night, and I had to woogle off home to bed.