Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Sorry this has taken so long.

Our bureaucratic betters decided to change the order of the Monday staff meetings a few weeks back--rather than have the peon meeting first at 8:30, and then el jefe meeting at 9:30, the order was switched. No explanation--apparently we did not have need to know. Anyway, what this means is that we are now at the mercy of a meeting that can go on as long as it wants, since it's the big boys. When ours was first, it was ALWAYS over on time so that the upper echelon could make sure they were on time for the first round of brown-nosing. Anyway, today, 9:30 came and went, and then we got an e-mail that the meeting would be at ten. Must be having problems achieved the desired liplock or something. So, I did some more actual work and some more of this crap, and then went into our dreary little conference room and waited with a few other hardy souls. For another 40 minutes. Oh, sure--we thought about getting up and going back and actually doing something other than waiting, but there was that thought that no one could really be so inconsiderate as to make us wait THAT long before showing up--I mean, it's not like the second and fifth floors are separated by some impenetrable barrier to communication that would cause another message that they were running late to be intercepted. Surely they were jusssst on their way out of the elevatorrrrrrr--NOW! Righhhhht NOW. Maybe, righhhhht, nnnnnNOW!

They finally showed up at 10:40 and spent an entire ten minutes discussing our calendars. I have a meeting at 10 tomorrow, and then I have to take off early to take Boy to the dentist to get his four recalcitrant baby teeth yanked out. Just so you know.

ANYWAY, the weekend, Installment Number One!

Well, first of all, Friday wasn’t pizza night--it was SEAFOOD night! Yea! Reba was in the mood for something different, so we drove over to the place over the next mountain to the north that we’ve visited before. It was busy--they’ve even added a valet to park cars, which if you saw the place would seem like an awfully odd non-sequitur. It’s just a little strip shopping center with three or four storefronts, but I suppose it does get pretty crowded. The valet guy looked lonely, but no use letting someone else drive the van when there was a parking space right there on the front row.

Parked, in, and it was jam-packed with folks. If you want a table, you have to do that first--don’t get a menu and go to the counter and order, because you might not have a place to sit when your food gets ready. Get some menus and sit down, write down what you want, THEN go order. Which is what we did--after hovering for a minute or two beside a big table that was getting ready to leave. Just not ready fast enough; that is, until we started hovering.

I got the crab cakes the last time and they were fine, so I wrote that down for myself, and the rest of the crew finally figured out what they wanted, which I dutifully wrote down on a slip of paper so I could remember it all. Or, rather, so I wouldn’t have to remember it all.

Got to the counter and was immediately disappointed when the blonde girl with the highly-distracting eyebrow piercing told me they were all out of crab cakes. “NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” And that is an exact quote. I had to figure out what I wanted on the run now, because there were other people waiting to order--thank heavens I wrote down our stuff, because she just took my scribblings and totaled it up while I looked back through the menu. Apparently the eyebrow piercing allows her to decipher my hurried shorthand, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Finally decided to get the fried shrimp and scallop plate. ::sigh:: I love them both, but when you get all set for one thing, it just sets you up for all kinds of mental pouting when you have to settle for second choice.

Paid, got our drink glasses, handed them out when I got back to the table and then we sat and waited. And people-watched. Not a very interesting crowd, I’m afraid. Unless you were them and were watching that odd table of six with the four kids who all seemed bent on driving each other insane.

Food finally was ready and boy, it sure was good. Boy had ordered a child’s plate of pasta, and it looked like it was several gallons’ worth. My shrimp was good, but the scallops were REALLY good--big and not rubbery. Sometimes they get cooked too long and get to be like those little rubber feet on the bottom of kitchen chairs. Not that I know what those taste like--I’m just speculating.

Anyway, it was all real good and we had enough left over for supper Saturday night. And then we went home.


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