Scribbled in my spare notebook today:
I'm in love with an old Greek man, He owns a falafel-gyro cart downtown that I always end up walking by on my way to Powell's. Once he gave me two chickets of Greek gum that were spicy-sappy, like it just came from the tree. I've seen him help people parallel park, showing them how close to get to the curb with his hands. We always say hello. Today when I did so he called me "the funniest girl" from his seat at the set of whitewashed iron patio furniture.
"Always with the smiling," he said. "Every time you walk by."
Added an hour later...
I dropped off a resume at a restaurant called Rose's on NW 23rd Avenue. The area has always made me nervous, just in the way that it feels too expensive-hip and my dirty shoes are incorrect. I shoved those feelings aside, walked in, dropped off my resume and chatted with the manager at a restaurant that has five dollar eclairs. How's that for rubbing elbows with the hoity-toity? Hope I get the job. He said he'd call by friday no matter what, but I've been promised that before.
Never fear if Rose's doesn't work out, I stopped by to chat with the guys at Eugenio's this morning (my definition of morning, so really early afternoon) and they said I might have a job there. They'll know in a week or so whether someone is leaving and Mr. Eugene loves me anyway so bada-bing! Job. The only worry is that it's across the street from my old job and I don't want Thuyen seeing me working there and thinking I could still be working at the reptile shop. We don't want any dark feelings on Division Street. They said they were mostly evening shifts I'd be working though, so I don't think it would be too much of a problem.
Now I'm on a grassy hill in a park across the street from a friend's apartment. The responsible shoes have been kicked off and stowed away, and the already unraveling sneakers have been pulled out of my bag*, ready to be worn again after a brief stint of barefootedness here in the park.
Theres a little, low to the ground dog running around with a ball. The amazing part here is how the animal manages to fit it's toy it it's mouth, I just don't see how it's physically possible, the ball being roughly half the size of the dog's head. It won't let go of it either, so it's owner drags, pulls and swings the dog off the ground in order to retrieve the ball for another throw.
*** I would insert here the sketches I made of the pooch, but I have no way of getting them from notebook to computer. The second one is rather good though, a profile.
I ran into my old crush from Latin American Studies earlier downtown (and by ran into I mean walked by, made eye contact and smiled). He's one of those Portland bicycle guys, a serious "type" of mine, i've decided. here I'll insert my excuse for not saying hello: I was on the phone. Stupid Sage, you could have at least flashed him a bigger grin, something dazzling and deliciously sexy. Too bad I'm a wimp.
Here's to hoping I run into him again. (Soon.)
More dogs have entered the park. This appears to be a leash-free zone. I hope I'm not laying in a pile of poop.
*My bag is full of sauce. I stopped off at a store and found a bottle of insta-curry, which I will be making tonight maybe, full of chicken. I also bought yummy pineapple salsa, which too will be devoured as soon as I buy more chips. Such a lavish life style I lead for a bum.