The Trumpeter Chronicles, cont'd

If you’ar an assiduous reader of this blog (and, come on, you’re not – I’m not even an assiduous reader of this blog), you may remember a character by the name of the Trumpeter, so nicknamed on account of her prolific farting. (Which, by the way, has not abated. Why should it?) This morning, I get to work and walk into the staff kitchen to put lunch in the fridge. The Trumpeter is futzing with something, so I keep my head down and try to avoid making too much noise. Alas, she heard the scuffle of my shoes...

Me:…

Trumpeter: Good morning!

Me: …morning…

Trumpeter: How are you?

Me:…fine…you?

Trumpeter: Well, I’m not sure if it was physical therapy last night or not, but I seem to have a strain in my kidney area!

Me:…

Trumpeter: Since it could be a kidney infection, I’m doubling up on the cranberry juice.

Me:…good, uh, luck. With that.

Another chapter of...The Trumpeter Chronicles

I’m in the office kitchen, rinsing off a Tupperware container – still burping up Banana Leaves’ awesome baba tofu curry – when in walks the Trumpeter.

“So, did you have a nice Thanksgiving?” Trying to shift the conversation away from me while saying as little as possible, I say, “Yes, it was lovely. How was yours?”

“Well, [husband] and I went to a restaurant, and we had a great time.” I let this sit. “So, no cooking at home for you? Like everyone else does?”  She quickly tries to explain that for her, Thanksgiving is “all about turkey.” She qualifies this in a way that suggests that she believes it is odd to insist on turkey on Thanksgiving. “So,” I ask, “they did a special Thanksgiving menu?” “Well, yes, but what’s most important, is that they also had all their regular items. Which was great, because we decided we should go back there some other time.”

I let this sink in. She didn’t go out with her husband to celebrate Thanksgiving at a restaurant she knows, or even a fancy one, given the way she dresses (bag lady chic.) She apparently didn’t even specifically go out seeking a Thanksgiving meal from a restaurant. She just went to some random restaurant, where they happened to be serving turkey. None of this is all that weird, I guess, but it’s hard to capture context. For example, as she’s telling me this, do you know what she’s doing? She’s microwaving leftover McDonald’s French fries. About a half a serving, I’d say. Did she really set aside the second half of her fries the night before and decide she’d get a lunch out of them?

Sigh.