wooed over a burrito
Wednesday, February 27 2019
I should mention how my food was at Cancun. Alex ordered had the pork burrito and at first I didn't know what to get, since the main menu doesn't seem very vegetarian-friendly. But on the back, as almost an afterthought, there are some vegetarian options. So I ordered the "green" vegetarian burrito with no cheese or sour cream, and it ended up being very good, particularly with the habañero sauce they fetched me when I said I wanted "very hot" hot sauce. It wasn't a West-Coast-style burrito that can be held and eaten like a sandwich; it didn't come in tin foil and had to be eaten with a knife and fork. But that's what I'll be getting if I ever join my co-workers for one of their legendary two-hour margarita lunches.
One sad bit of news unrelated to work was that Alex's dog Augie had died at around the time Gretchen and I had left for Costa Rica. He'd gotten loose, as he sometimes did, and then been hit by the Amtrak train as it sped at high speed through Tivoli. This wasn't even the first time Alex had had a dog that was killed by a speeding train. So now he figures his household has lost its dog privileges permanently, unless they get an overweight dachshund or something.
The experience of being "wooed" made me feel a lot better about my work. I've been working at this present joyless project for, as I said, three months, with very little to show for it and thus very little encouragement from my employer. They have faith in me, perhaps more than I have in myself. Indeed, I'm often haunted by self-doubt, and despite plenty of supporting evidence for the theory that I am able to carry things through to completion, I always tend to fear a complete collapse in my abilities until I've delivered what I'm building.
On the way home, I stopped for provisions at the Red Hook Hannaford, buying broccoli, lettuce, spring salad mix, bananas, orange juice, bloody mary mix, mushrooms, cans of white and green beans, vegan "milk," beer, and a smallish bag of ice-melting salt (for helping extricate the Subaru from a block of ice). I'd had such a good day at work that I celebrated by drinking a road beer on the rest of the drive. There was a cop parked on the side of the road just east of the Kingston-Rhinecliff bridge. Where the hell was he yesterday when that swerving car was such low-hanging fruit?
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