Earlier this week, I was having lunch at my desk, as I often do. Boss #2 stopped by to contribute some work-related info (which is, of course, the downside in lunching at one’s desk), but as he turned to go, he spied my sandwich. He asked, “Is that ciabatta bread? Did you bake that?” Yes, it was ciabatta bread, but no, I definitely didn’t bake it… and even now, I’m curious as to what inspired that question. While I can cook, I’m far from being a culinary legend, and I consider bread-baking something done by unearthly people like Rachael Ray and Martha Stewart. In any event, I decided to take it as a compliment.
The day after the previous incident, I was at Wal-Mart (looking for more ciabatta bread for which I could take baking credit). A fellow customer gets my attention and queries, “Do you have any idea where I would find anchovy paste?” Something about the phrase “anchovy paste” really turns my stomach, but I rose above it and thought for a moment, trying to be helpful. “Might it be with the canned meats?” The lady responded that she hadn’t thought of that, and off she went. I was left to wrap my head around the fact that I – apparently – I look like someone familiar with disgustingly-named fish products.
Also this week, the water cooler at work would not dispense cold water, so I called our water-cooler-unit supplier. It would be the next day before the service guy could come out, but the office lady suggested that I “unplug it, wait an hour and plug it back in.” So… just so I’m understanding the situation here: I need to reboot the water cooler?! (FYI, I was desperate, so I tried it. Didn’t work.)
Last Sunday at church, everyone was meeting and greeting after the evening service. I stopped to shake hands with our newest deacon. After our hellos, he proceeds, “Now, your husband – does he go to church here?” I admit, that question took me so by surprise that I was completely at a loss for how to respond. Fortunately the pastor’s wife was one step away, and she informed the deacon that I don’t have a husband. Recovering, I agreed: nope, no husband. The deacon was all, “Oh, well, we’ll have to work on that,” and turned to speak to someone else. Was he embarrassed and trying to change the subject? I hope not. I don’t feel insulted; I just wonder what led him to think that I’m married, since he’s been attending church there for several years. I had recently posted a message at Facebook, welcoming my boyfriend to the site, and I tried to recall if that deacon was a friend there… but I don’t think he is, actually. :shrug:
Speaking of Jeff joining Facebook, it’s just another sentence in the story of a guy and a girl… in the age of social media. He joins FB back in April of 2011, finally tells me about it two years later, and then his dad sends me a friend request…? His dad’s a nice guy, and I don’t write anything at FB (or on-line, really, knowing that a FB friend with time on his hands could follow what I’ve posted there and wind up here :waves to FB friends:) that’s not fit for public viewing, so I accepted the request. But nagging thoughts emerged. “Did I take too long to respond to the request?” “Will he critique what I’ve written?” “What happens to our friendship status if Jeff and I break up??” Sigh. I’m not sure I’m cut out for the nuances of modern-day relationships…
In other news, I’m busy, busy, busy, as I keep finding things to do. Now that the growing season is here, yard chores constantly beckon, so I’ll have even less time for my fun computer hobbies. (:frowny face:) Plus, I’ve been trying to get organized around the house, because my severe case of “stuff-itis” is starting to stress me out. And at work, the projects keep piling up, so much so that I’m starting to identify strongly with one of my colleagues; she had accepted a position with more responsibility, and after being asked if she was starting to get caught up, she said with resignation, “I have the feeling I’ll never be caught up on anything ever again.” Sigh, again.