THE VEGETABLES

All three of them were there, though Steven came later, after answering the phone while he was a block away. Which, because of background noise both where he was and where they were proved quite unintelligible. "Where are you?" "What?" "Where?" "At the office?" "Huh?" And so forth. They're all a little hard of hearing, being in their seventies and eighties.
I am considerably younger. But I was just listening in, not part of it.

In fact, he had been in a place with steam tables and dishes to go.

Teatime was at a familiar place. The daddy and his tyke who live four blocks up hill were there. Kid's getting slightly larger, and speaks in whole sentences. Ah suk, nei hou.
A polite greeting. Little hand wave.

She still isn't drinking a warm caffeinated beverage.
That will come in another few years.

The three older gentlemen do drink caffeinated liquids, but it doesn't have much effect.
It doesn't make them run around in circles screaming "whee, I'm an airplane".
If they ever had that going on, it must have been back in the fifties.

As such things do, conversation veered several directions sideways. We agreed on the Great Highway. But we did manage to baffle each other considerably as to whether the proposition passed, and though they had their cellular devices with them, they didn't think to look up the vote results. I did not bother to suggest it, and as far as I can tell they're still counting.


The vegetables in the title are what I purchased before heading in to tea. Patola (ridged loofah) and bittermelon, most of which I gave to my downstairs neighbor the Indonesian Chinese woman, who locomotes a bit less and worse than I do. And may be somewhat uncomfortable in C'town, because she's as outsider there, and certainly can't read the language. I too am an outsider, but quite insensitive about that.
And I can read the language fairly well.

It had started a few hours earlier with lunch at the usual Wednesday place, followed by a smoke in a shellbriar on the way to the pharmacy. Errands, shops, bakery.
Then a smoke in a Peterson bent bulldog.


Caught the bus back over the hill down in the financial district.



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