Yesterday I rode my motorcycle for the first time in months. The weather was great. It must've been, like, fifty degrees or something. I know. I was just happy to get "back in the saddle again" so to speak and was looking for any excuse to do it. The warm... okay, warm-ish weather proved a good one as it removed all the killer ice from the roads and made it bearable to ride for short distances.
One such short distance was from home to work, where I had to take some paperwork.
I work at an Italian restaurant named La Vigna. It's pronounced "lah Veenyah." Either we're incredibly ethnically and culturally ignorant (a likely scenario in Utah), or - more likely - people just pretend to be clueless so they have an excuse to giggle like a twelve year old. Get over it people. I know you were paying attention to this part of your anatomy class and there's not enough letters.
While the weather was beautiful yesterday, it was even better today. Today we were treated to a crazy sideways-blowing this-is-what-a-snow-hurricane-would-look-like yet nonetheless rather short-lived blizzard. It was great. I love bad weather. No, that's an understatement. I love potentially lethal almost apocalyptic displays of nature's unbridled wrath. I've never really been in any such situation, so watching from the sidelines in a warm dry place with a roof over my head is just a blast.
Come to think of it, I think one of my favorite memories from Maryland was sitting out on the back deck one summer afternoon with my dad playing chicken with a gigantic looming thunderstorm. We knew we should get inside. Usually we watched the thunderstorms (the really good ones anyways) from inside the house or the garage. This time we wanted a front row seat.
About fifteen minutes before the storm was on top of us we could see it's ominous figure approaching in the distance. It was coming quick. It seemed like only five minutes ago the sky was clear. As it got closer the trees began to shake in the wind as clippings from freshly mown lawns and dandelion seeds started pelting us from all directions. Anticipation was almost tangible as we counted mississippis from distant flashes of light. It's kinda funny, at the back of your mind there's this nagging instinct to go find shelter. It's as if this most natural phenomenon is so very unnatural that despite the knowledge that the chances are very much in your favor for survival, there's some part of you that just feels the energy in the air and it's begging you not to stay outside - and yet you find that it is in the very act of defying this instinct that you feel more alive than ever. Lightning began ripping through the sky closer and closer and sheets of water began cascading down from the heavens. I don't know how long we stayed outside and I can't remember who chickened out first, but it doesn't really matter. The raw power of nature rode into that lazy summer afternoon like a conquering hero. It was majestic. It was beautiful. It was freakin' sweet.
I set out tonight to write more about work, and particularly about tipping, but I kinda got sidetracked down memory lane. ... I wonder if there's a Memory Ln. somewhere in America. I'm sure there is. There's probably a bunch, actually. Sorry, I get easily sidetracked. I'll write more about that later. Promise. Scout's honor. Cross my heart and hope to.... mmm no, not that strong of a promise.
