Dancing Carrots

I went to the Sizzling Wok. The owner, Sandy, sat down at my table and started reading my newspaper. Sometimes she is friendly; sometimes she repels your attempts to be cordial. She has hired a "white boy" to do deliveries. He came to start work but asked if he could run an errand first. He came back accompanied by his pink-haired girlfriend and took some stuff out of a sack to show the owner. It was free stuff from some kind of environmental event. She was interested in the stuff, but Chinese people don't like to to find new places on their own. On the other hand, they are interested in free stuff. There were dancing carrots at the event. I had seen them on the way to the restaurant, dancing on Crown Street. The girlfriend was trying to convey the concept of dancing carrots to Sandy, whose English is limited. "Dancing carrots!" she said brightly, sashaying from side to side.

The night before I was also at the Sizzling Wok and I saw the delivery guy leaving. Even though he's blond, somehow I knew he worked there. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to end up working there.

A month ago I tried to place a takeout order but the owner argued with me for ten minutes until I added a poultry choice.

I was disappointed with the food items I ordered today. $30.00 too. Too bad. About ten percent of the population where I live is Chinese, but many of them are now doctors, lawyers and landlords. The ones running Chinese restaurants now are from Communist China and the food just isn't the same.

I was looking for a concert or a movie to go to but nothing turned up. I really looked. I feel sad and bored, but I'm glad to be out. They have a Christmas concert in the mall right now but you can't enjoy it because they haven't turned off the other music.

I used to spend my weekends eating Chinese Food, thrift shopping, going to movies, events and reading tabloids. Now something has happened to everyone of those things. I feel like the world is crumbling in my hands.

There was a thrift shop started the year I was born in a sweet little wooden house. The same people were running it the whole time. I had shopped there since the eighties. Suddenly it was pronounced unsound due to termite damage and closed. I had gotten so much cool vintage clothing there in the old days. There was a woman who was my exact size who had her clothes custom-made. When she would get rid of vintage clothes from the fifties and sixties it was like Christmas. There were wonderful old cotton sheets owned by rich people with laundry marks on them. One woman who worked there had taught at my pre-school and I remembered her.

I found a book reading and an independent movies I could have attended but they were over when I found out about them.

I'm trying not to get on a downer but the world isn't helping. At least I'm out and looking for stuff to do.

*Names have been changed.