Sunday, January 22, 2012

Solo Dining

Being in Oregon has been challenging.  Day time is manageable, but night is not.  Today, I went out to the local flea market, and stopped for something to eat on my way back home.  While I was at the restaurant, I wrote in my journal that I keep in my purse.  Here is that entry:

1/22/12 Cornucopia Restaurant 2:55pm Pacific Time

Ask and you shall receive.  I left the flea market- feeling icky and upset about blowing money on junk- and started to feel hungry for something good.  Without directions, I drove around and VOILA!  I stumbled upon Cornucopia.  The same one J & E took me to.  This beer is really good.  Dechutes Porter.  Thank you, TJ, for teaching me to appreciate dark beer.

I miss home.  I'm totally dreading the house already.  I'd love to sit in here all day, but I have to get back before dark so I can walk the pooch.  I just want to feel better.  When I go out, it's almost worse.  I never want to go back to the house.  But when I've stayed put all day, night time is more manageable.

This is such a cute little place.  Small, tables low and high topped mixed together.  Sexual Healing just came on over the sound system.  Neon signs are pretty much the only illumination.  Coasters line the beams like wallpaper borders.  There is a life sized cut out of the Statue of David stuck on a door leading somewhere.  Probably the kitchen.  The wall to my right is beer cases.  Three of them lined up together, just like a little liquor store.  On top of those cases are row upon row of tap heads.  The brick columns and beams holding up the roof are plastered with photos of people laughing, smiling.  Groups of friends, families, even little babies.  There is a birth announcement from December just behind me.  This is a very cozy, friendly place.  So why do I still feel like shit?  Because I want to share this with someone.  Fuck me.

Piet just texted me.  She sent me a picture of the photo and notes of TJ.  They're still up at Guido's.
It's like she read my mind.  I want him here with me now.  I want to share a cool place like this with him.  It's vibe is so similar to Guido's back in the day.  He would love it.  Especially because they serve tempe.  And play reggae.

I can't imagine how pitiful I look as I sit there.  Not because I'm alone.  But because I am so incredibly sad, on the verge of tears.  I keep trying to breathe through it.  It's so hard being here, far from home.  I need to call Margot, introduce myself.  Meet her for coffee or something.

I guess I'll get my check now.

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