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Mar. 27th, 2013 10:21 pm
Rewards of age
So eleven weeks, three doctors, and I don't want to know how many hundreds of dollars (most of which did not come out of pocket, but still) only to be told that the pain is all in my head. I mean, he did schedule me for a follow-up procedure, but I'm 90% sure it's more because he scented easy money than because he thinks it will uncover anything useful. This is why I usually don't waste my time with any complaint that isn't genuinely impairing. Oh, well; I suppose at my age more professionals scrutinising my parts at close range can't ever hurt. Chances are they'll find something worth medicating.
The upside is that it gave me a chance to swing by Turkish Bakery for dinner. Even if the kazandibi isn't what it used to be and the Karadeniz pide was a bit overcooked (to make it easier to transport, let's be generous and say), I know the Old Man appreciated a night off. And I had a nice chat with the Punjabi cabbie, not to mention garnering the envy of my coworkers for getting out of the all-staff meeting that afternoon.
Whether related to any of that or not, I got to sleep through the night for a change, which made it easier to face a full day at work today. Well, that and an extended lunch with one of my favourite colleagues. Too bad the Rich Bayless franchise near work turns out to be something of a let-down. My first question was quickly answered: it's the same catering staff as ran the previous operations, so it's unrealistic to expect that the top-notch ingredients will shine in their hands. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't suck, but that was a poor excuse for a huarache and I trust Mr Bacon when he says you can find salsa as tasty at almost any storefront in Parque de Rogelio.
And how can I really complain about anything when I came home to homemade pasta fagioli and a beaming presence who's such a brilliant manager that his imminent departure makes grown men cry? The plans are falling into place a bit more with every day. If I could only shake that niggling dread of the hanging sword of uncaring irony ready to swoop down between a meticulous man and his hard-earned reward.
The upside is that it gave me a chance to swing by Turkish Bakery for dinner. Even if the kazandibi isn't what it used to be and the Karadeniz pide was a bit overcooked (to make it easier to transport, let's be generous and say), I know the Old Man appreciated a night off. And I had a nice chat with the Punjabi cabbie, not to mention garnering the envy of my coworkers for getting out of the all-staff meeting that afternoon.
Whether related to any of that or not, I got to sleep through the night for a change, which made it easier to face a full day at work today. Well, that and an extended lunch with one of my favourite colleagues. Too bad the Rich Bayless franchise near work turns out to be something of a let-down. My first question was quickly answered: it's the same catering staff as ran the previous operations, so it's unrealistic to expect that the top-notch ingredients will shine in their hands. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't suck, but that was a poor excuse for a huarache and I trust Mr Bacon when he says you can find salsa as tasty at almost any storefront in Parque de Rogelio.
And how can I really complain about anything when I came home to homemade pasta fagioli and a beaming presence who's such a brilliant manager that his imminent departure makes grown men cry? The plans are falling into place a bit more with every day. If I could only shake that niggling dread of the hanging sword of uncaring irony ready to swoop down between a meticulous man and his hard-earned reward.
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