Betty and I had
our usual Wednesday night dinner tonight, though it was sort of a milestone.
Eighteen years ago tonight was when the massive tornado roared through west Fort
Worth and on into downtown. It must also have been a Wednesday night, because
we were having dinner at Pappadeaux, between a half mile and a mile from where
the storm entered downtown. What was interesting tonight was that it told us
how long our Wednesday night dinners have been a tradition. Back then, it was
already an established pattern, probably for about five years. And, gulp, we
were in our fifties!
Pappadeaux has lots
of windows, and although we didn’t see the funnel cloud, we clearly saw the sky
turn the color of split-pea soup. No way we were venturing out in that, so we
ordered another glass of wine. Later, Betty’s husband Don would say, “I can’t
believe the two of you just sat there and ordered more wine.” What would he
have had us do? Charge out into the teeth of the storm?
I like to think
that not informing customers what was going on was an informed decision by restaurant
management, but to this day I’m not sure they shouldn’t have told us to take
shelter under the tables in case of flying glass. Perhaps they wanted to avoid
panic. We lucked out on that score.
We didn’t know
what had happened, of course, until we got home. I found a message from Jordan
that said, “Don’t worry. I’m safe.” I asked her later if she was at all worried
about me, since she clearly had been home and knew I wasn’t there. She said
yes, but repeated she knew how worried I was about her. And she was right.
Trauma of another,
milder kind tonight. It was time to change Sophie’s flea collar, and Jordan had
picked up a new one at the vet’s office. I swear that dog has sixth sense. As
Jordan unwrapped the color, Sophie began to back away. She went into the
bedroom, but I guess couldn’t stand the suspense and edged into the kitchen,
from where she watched us warily. Then she went under my desk. I got cheese out
of the fridge, and Jordan coaxed and coaxed until she came to take it and back
rapidly away. On the second piece, Jordan was able to take hold of her color,
and she stood looking scared but not protesting while the old collar came off
and the new went on. Fitting the loose end of the new was too much for her,
though, and she backed away again. Before it was all over, we gave her almost
an entire slice of Velveeta or, as I call it, dog cheese. I wonder if perhaps
the odor of the new collar alerted her—or was it really sixth sense?
Another rainy day
today, dull and a bit depressing. Great weather for gardens but not so great
for dogs. Sophie has been reluctant to go outside all day, even when I knew I’d
be leaving her confined to the cottage for some time and wanted her to do preventive
pottying. Last night, with thunder rumbling most of the night, she was on my
bed a lot. When I got up to go to the bathroom, we tussled just a bit for
control of the favorite spot in the bed. I’m looking forward to sunshine that’s
predicted for tomorrow. My disposition could use it. So could my dog.
Friends helped my
disposition today. Lunch with three women whose company I enjoy—had a great cream
of spinach soup at Aventino’s. Tonight, Betty and I went to one of our
favorites—the Tavern—and split a vegetable plate. Turns out you choose from four
sides they’re offering that night, so we had broccoli, cole slaw, green beans vinaigrette,
and spaghetti squash with spinach, mushrooms, and a “raisin medley.” I got one
raisin; Betty got two.
I came home and
happened to read something to the effect that eating protein at every meal
prevents aging. I guess I blew that one. My cottage cheese for breakfast just
won’t cover all three meals.
Here’s to happier
weather tomorrow and for Easter.
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