Hi.
The lovely folks who carefully monitor my “Park” posts (all three of you) are most likely expecting a continuation of the last “Park”, wherein I shared bittersweet bits from my childhood. This is an honest expectation, as I ended that post with a “more to come!” teaser tag. In a decent world, this means that I should now regale you with further tales of a happy sad little gay boy trying to survive the wretched backwaters of suburban Tulsa, Oklahoma.
That’s not exactly what is going to happen with this post.
Let me present to the court that I did have good intentions. I awoke this morning, as I usually do, flush with the promise of attempting to validate my life in some way. Then I actually got out of bed, and certain impediments tripped me up on my way to the sacred coffee maker (all hail the caffeine bean!) and my supposed and eventual positioning in front of this laptop, wherein I wreak havoc on the English language and any degree of civility.
My partner got a group text on his phone. He gets texts all the time, naturally, no big, but this time I was involved in at least a peripheral way. His little friends (who are actually my little friends as well, but I often pretend to not care or I would go insane with the mind-numbing manner in which a group text turns into a massive orgy of pinging responses) wanted to know if we were still meeting them at Mario’s.
Oh, right. A few days ago, I had given my consent to such a meeting because it was a few days ago and I thought I had plenty of time to come up with an emergency-surgery excuse. Then I completely forgot about the proposition and did not adequately prepare my eventual rebuttal. (Fair disclosure: Said friends are actually a hoot and I do enjoy them, but as any of my fellow introverts will attest, it doesn’t matter how interesting other people may or may not be, the mere thought of interacting with them requires intensive therapy and a strong will to live.)
In any case, we were now expected to arrive at Mario’s Mexican and Salvadorian Restaurant at 4pm. So, we did.
And things actually went quite swimmingly, initially. Everyone was super sweet and managed to give the impression that they were thrilled beyond words that I had broken my self-imposed seal and ventured out of my Fortress of Solitude. We hugged and we chatted and we caught up on the various conversational threads that permeate the atmosphere of group meetings where everyone isn’t always there, meaning that nobody has the full story on anybody and that’s the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.
Still, I was a bit uncomfortable, because that’s in my DNA. So, when the waiter arrived to take my drink order, I nearly humped him on the spot out of sheer joy that he was doing such. Please intoxicate me now with a swirl margarita.
He was on it. “Would you like the small, the large, or the jumbo?”
Jumbo? I had never been more aroused in my entire life. “I’ll take the jumbo. With an extra J.”
Two seconds later, he professionally slid a vibrant concoction in front of me, instantly earning him a generous tip for his expediency.
Two seconds after that, I was completely lit.
I don’t know what the hell was in that drink, but it moved mountains and realigned the planets and my recalcitrance. I suddenly loved everybody, even that one guy at the other end of the table whose name I can never remember. I was so giddy with this unexpected fellowship that I ordered another Jumbo at some point. Two seconds later, I was singing Jim Croce songs and caressing my nipples. It was that kind of moment.
And somewhere in the midst of the caressing, I had the most fabulous blog post idea that I have ever had, bar none. The creativity was swamping my brain, along with the Jumbo, and I couldn’t wait to get back home and compose a thrilling piece that would have everyone acknowledging me as the best thing since Harper Lee.
Then the food arrived, with my personal platter composed of alcohol-absorbing sponges drenched in queso.
Then we drove home (well, Partner Terry did, because I didn’t need to be doing such), and we watched a creativity-absorbing documentary in which presumably-scholarly people explained that the “Trojan Horse” concept in Homer’s “Odyssey” was probably a bunch of crap. I briefly fell asleep during a critical moment in the narrative, caressing my nipples, so I don’t know if they proved their point or not.
And now it’s hours later. The beautiful blog epiphany I had betwixt the Jumbos has long-since faded and I am left with nothing but a mild headache and a dream of what once was. But I wanted you to know, dear readers, that I did think of you, however fleetingly, during a festive session with friends, and really, who wouldn’t want to be thought of when I’m singing a Jim Croce song?
Cheers.
Previously published a few years ago, minutely modified. Interestingly enough, we will be meeting with several of the same people who participated in the festivities mentioned above, later today. It’s become something of a tradition, a semi-regular event we call “Sunday Fun Day”. Sadly, Mario’s has moved to a new location, one that we don’t relish visiting as it is now in an uber-trendy area of town that is far too annoying. Ergo, “Jumbo” is not an option on the drink menu. (That sound you hear is me weeping quietly.)
Instead, we’ll be sporting clever masks as we descend on our trusty standby, Ojeda’s, a small, local chain that I have babbled about extensively in the annals of Bonnywood. There may or may not be anything interesting to report afterwards, but I think it’s safe to assume that Partner will most likely be driving us home…
Categories: My Life
Bonnywood Manor 
Mi piace questo quadro 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Grazie.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I understand about the introvert’s need to come up with something, anything to avoid large gatherings (my definition: more than 4). When I was in my late teens/early 20s, before I recognised the extent of my introversion, I thought there was something really wrong with me, but I grew to realise that introversion was the least of my worries. 😉
LikeLiked by 2 people
I fully understand what you’re saying. Most of my family members (bloodline, anyway) are gregarious and boisterous and love the spotlight. I was none of that as a child, and I was always the outlier, avoiding everyone and writing poetry in the dark. It took a while to find my tribe…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Booze serves only to confuse the muse. But who can refuse a Jumbo? Or two?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Quite true, on both counts. On the flip side. Mistress Booze has often led me down wordsmithing pathways that I never would have taken without her seductive prodding. I just have to clean things up a bit in the morning…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh yes, bring on the platter composed of alcohol-absorbing sponges.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Those sponges have saved many a day, stopping me on the threshold of impropriety…
LikeLiked by 1 person
My first coherent thought upon perusing the initial paragraphs was that you are usually most amusing when you veer off the virgin path. And then I read this: ” We hugged . . .” In the middle of a pandemic! 80 Million people infected! Almost 2 million dead and you are hugging!!! Where were your masks, social distancing!!! And yes It finally dawned on me this was from your past. DUH! And then I continued reading and enjoyed your foray into Jumbo Dumbo Land. Whew. Gave me a bit of a scare there.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I realize that I should put a disclaimer at the beginning when the goings-on to follow took place in the past, but I’ve discovered that many folks instantly click away when I say something like “one from the archives”. So it’s a delicate balancing act. Just like me trying to find the loo after consuming two Jumbos…
LikeLike
I was tingling with joy at the thought of you imbibing that Jumbo (capital J!) margarita. Way to burst a girl’s bubble dude.
☹️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Trust, there has been plenty of discreet, socially-distanced imbibing during these Covid times. In fact, I’m surprised that the folks at the Guinness Book of World records hasn’t tried to contact me and schedule an interview…
LikeLiked by 1 person
When they’re finished with my interview, I shall send them down your way.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Brian now I can hear
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I’d like to do … in my head I remember it as a 70’s girl… and we need more introverts 🤓🤗💫 sending joy hedy
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was also a 70s girl, in a way. I really miss the music of that time, even if that makes me sound like an old curmudgeon. The lyrics were just so much more meaningful than much of the dreck these days…
I graciously accept your joy. Introverts unite!
LikeLike
All of the restaurants here are closed except for takeout, so I can’t get a Jumbo anything unless I make it my damn self, haha!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, this is Texas, where much of the citizenry (including our reprehensible governor) still believe that Covid is a myth created for political reasons. So the restrictions are lax, much to the dismay of anyone with a sense of the right thing to do. But rest assured that when we dine in public, and we choose carefully, we are swathed in layers of masking and distancing and sanitizing. And a bit of imbibing, to soothe my urge to slap the people who are not masking and distancing…
LikeLiked by 1 person
One thing, among the hundreds of thousands of “little” annoyances about that %!#$&* god shitted virus is the dwindling choices for consumables. Perhaps it was the move to ‘uber-trendy’ (oh shudder GAG) that heralded the loss in the here and now, but it might be that the once gleaming portal to good food and great drinks, don’t get the required shipments of tequila, limes, or even ice to make a decent margarita – let alone a JUMBO one. Oh the humanity!! I experienced (again) that phenomenon of the lack of choices in consumables this past Christmas in my own quest for peppermint taffy. Yeah. *sigh* Where have all the options gone? Long time passing. Where have all the choices gone? Gone to Covid madness every one. When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn? ♪♫♪ Aw. I am bummed. ☻
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yep, things are seriously out of whack with the supply chain, made even worse by senseless idiots running amok and snatching up things they don’t need, further disrupting the supply. Perhaps I’m being dreamy, but if folks would just settle down and act responsibly, much of the heartache we are experiencing would lessen. Of course, the biggest hitch in this mix is that too many elected officials are making this all about politics and not about the right thing to do. It’s incredibly shameful, and deadly…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I so fully agree. Anyone found guilty of making the pandemic ‘about politics’, ought to be forced to hang out in a Wal*Mart in a particularly ‘patriotic’ place (where them gun totin’, non-maskin’ fools hang out too), and breath the air. Kiss a few grubby and snotty babies. Maybe that’d teach ’em..
LikeLiked by 1 person
I panicked a bit seeing so many people close to each other without wearing masks as well. I love this painting, it was everywhere in my art studies book in high school 🙂
LikeLike
I get SO incensed when I’m in a public place and encounter maskless people. It’s all I can do not to have a confrontation, but there’s really no point in such. You can’t fix stupid…
I love the painting as well (and it’s counterpart painting, across the river). I’ve used this image since the very first “Sunday in the Park” post, many years ago…
LikeLike
I love the Jumbo. They are available at some of our Mexican themed restaurants. I love Jim Croce too.
I’m kinda confused about which of his wonderful songs would induce nipple caressing though🤔 Pehaps “I Fell In Love With RollerDerby Queen”? Or maybe “Steadily Depressing, Lowdown, Mind Messing, Working At The Car Wash Blues”?
I also had a second of fright before I realized this was in the BK (Before Kootie) period.
Enjoy the caressing!🍹💌
LikeLiked by 1 person
In perhaps a weird way, Jim Croce songs just make me amorous. I guess it’s just the image of a man being emotional and honest, as he does with his songs. We still have so many Stone-Age men who just grunt and expect to be worshipped…
Yes, this was BK. Now? I carefully evaluate the destination and the possible participants and the available quick-exit points before I go anywhere…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Love and Love Alone.
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Welcome
LikeLiked by 1 person
I must have read this before and yet… surely I would have remembered a Jumbo?!
Margaritas have that affect on me too. I love all of humanity, can dance like a goddess and sing like a diva. Only don’t film me doing of that because then I will have to kill you.
Hope you had fun at Ojeda’s. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
How sweet of you to combine nostalgia and shared experiences with margaritas and a death threat, all in one comment. Lovely, really.
But I actually didn’t go to Ojeda’s, despite my anticipation of such. (Partner went, natch, because he’s an extrovert who needs a daily fix.) As the hour of departure neared, I decided I’d rather stay ensconced in Bonnywood and play an XBOX game. I’d complicated that way. Like you didn’t know… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
“I was also a 70s girl, in a way. I really miss the music of that time, even if that makes me sound like an old curmudgeon. The lyrics were just so much more meaningful than much of the dreck these days…” OMG! Laughing my eyes out. I am a Croce lover. I actually have one of his CDs in my car. Don’t really listen to it, but it’s there. LOLOL
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hold up. You have one of Croce’s CDs in your car and you don’t LISTEN to it? Honey darlin’, I might have to make my way over there and smack some sense into you. In a loving way, of course. Then we’ll go somewhere nice for brunch… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sounds good to me! (brunch) I’m not really in my car long enough to listen to any kind of music, but sometimes I will let it play. Time in a bottle is a little difficult to listen to. Sigh.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s frustrating, isn’t it, when a brilliant idea just fades away like that. Hopefully it will come back in 2021. Probably another platter and another drink will do the trick to bring the memory back. What’s that dish called, “alcohol-absorbing sponges drenched in queso”? Is it something Salvadorian, which I’ve never experienced before?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m always having great ideas (well, at least great to me) that quickly fade if I don’t record them immediately. This also happens with my dreams. Right after I wake up, I have all these potential story visions. Ten minutes later, there’s nothing but smoke and emptiness…
The “sponges” line was just a generic term for any food item that absorbs a little of the alcohol so I’m not quite so tipsy, not a specific dish. Honestly, even though we have been to this restaurant many times, there are still some things on the platters I order that I can’t fully identify. I just know they’re good… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Now you mentioned it, the “Trojan Horse” thing is quite suspicious, isn’t it? It’s much more economical just to get somebody to sneak in the city and open the door at night since the people of Troy has already let down their guard after the retreat of the enemy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Exactly. It all seems much ado about nothing. Just wait until somebody on guard duty dozes off (because someone always does) and then slip past them and grab the keys. Done. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person