963. Yes I marched

And so did Ray.

It did something very important for me. It lifted the gloom that I have felt since the election.

And the gloom was well founded with the tweets, cabinet possibilities and “Alternative facts”. It was even worse than I feared.

But standing with all those women and seeing that women all over the world were standing up cheered me.

I’ve done a lot of demonstrating in my life. Some of them were scary with police in riot gear and echoes of Kent State in my mind.

But some were like this one. march-cop

This has to be only the beginning.

Ah shit. I just realized that I’m probably going to have to leave my house again.

I hate that.

 

 

962 Yesterday was my birthday but that doesn’t mean that there weren’t bumps in the road.

I did have a wonderful few days with my sister and last night Julie and Dan took me and Marcia out to dinner.

We went to the indian restaurant on my block, Chola.

I have a long history with Chola. They cater my Thanksgiving and they’ve been my go to indian restaurant for years.

Why am I telling you this? to explain why I behaved as I did last night receiving what I considered to be an unfair tongue lashing from my co-diners (not you Dan)

I’ll set the stage by saying that Chola closed suddenly with no explanation and stayed closed for several months.

They reopened only a few weeks ago.

The meal was wonderful and all my favorite waiters stopped by to say hello. They even gave us a few things “on the house”.

Towards the end of the meal I delicately excused myself to “tap a kidney”.

When I got into the ladies room directly above the toilet paper roll was a sign saying

PLEASE DO NOT PUT ANY PAPER IN THE TOILET. KINDLY DISPOSE OF PAPER IN THE TRASH CAN.

I have to admit that I pondered over this sign. Could their delicate plumbing be the reason for the closing of the restaurant? Keep in mind that the sign is directly over the toilet paper roll.

I’m thinking that this pondering distracted me and at the end of my toilet (pronounced  twa-let) I thoughtlessly used the toilet paper and dropped it in the toilet.

 

When I realized what I’d done I was horrified. The thought that I would be responsible for another month long closing was more than I could bear.

I did what any faithful customer would do in this situation. I reached down into my pee, retrieved the culprit and put it in the trash can.

And yes I washed my  hands thoroughly with soap.

When I got back to the table I told my fellow diners what I had done and instead of the praise that I was expecting, I was greeted with condemnation and jeers.

“They meant paper towels stupid, not toilet paper”

This from my usual adoring sister.

“If they meant paper towels they wouldn’t have put the sign directly over the toilet paper”

Julie feigning a gag wasn’t any kinder.

“You put your hand in pee?”

Only Dan refused to jump on the bandwagon without doing some investigation himself. He went to the men’s room.

When he returned to the table he announced that the same sign existed in the men’s room but it’s  location was different. It was by the paper towels.

“Well,” I said, feeling vindicated “If it had been by the paper towels I would have behaved differently. I would have known that they meant paper towels”

Marcia; “Unless you were a moron”

Julie trying to soften her mother’s attack  “A birthday moron”