There were three kids in the back of the bus, two of whom talked loudly non-stop, while the other one, a baby, wailed intermittently.
The bus made a stop in front of the new Bristol Creek apartments at the corner of Gorman and Burt, which is a non-standard stop. I looked outside to see if a new stop had been erected there, but didn't see a sign.
It turned out to be L'il Dino (and her daughter), who I haven't seen on the bus since the university recessed for the summer in late May, early June. She knew the driver well enough to have a long hug with her while the rest of us waited for our ride to resume.
I'm guessing the driver stopped for her, because they were such good friends, as I know it's against the rules for the driver to stop between official stops. At the Gorman Street and Western Boulevard light, which is long, L'il Dino stood up and stood just behind the white line, chatted with driver, remaining that way until the Gorman Street and Hillsborough Street intersection, when she re-took her seat.
At my stop, I walked by L'il Dino on my way out, and we both said to each other at the same time, ""Hey baby. How's it going?"
My work day was pretty much consumed with finishing up the May UITC meeting minutes, and hitting the "send" button on the email announcing that they were available for review right on my way out at about 5:50, I was glad I'd spent three hours working on them at home last night.
Just before exiting the building, I used the restroom, about which I posted on Facebook:
By the number of comments, I'd say this topic resonated with a number of people.
My colleague and friend, Jen, made me aware of this very interesting site today. The premise is that people post a "photo-in-a-photo," preferably of the same subject at different times. I was so intrigued by it that I put it on our next salon agenda. Click on this sample from the site to see more.
I had to go all the way to the back of the bus to avoid taking a seat with someone else. After a couple of minutes, it occurred to me that:
Speaking of white people in the back of the bus, as we approached Western Boulevard on Method Road, the lady sitting across from me asked the man behind her, "Is there a laundromat close to here?"
He indicated that there was one in the shopping center we had just passed, and then said, "Well there used to be a dry cleaners by that Wendy's up the street." And then he leaned into her and in almost a whisper said something that was most certainly racist. I didn't hear exactly what he said, but I heard him mention that "there's that Section 8 housing right behind where it was."
I thought of the mixed-race couple I'd seen on this morning's bus, and I thought it would be such a touché if after the end of his whispering she'd said, "Oh yeah, that's where me and my African-American husband live."
I arrived at Jen's at 7:00 with the lasagna I promised to bring to have for dinner while we watched Glee. Jen provided rolls and ice cream.
Jen heated up the lasagna in her microwave and we sat down on the couch to eat it. With my first bite, I said, "This doesn't taste like lasagna," as it had a chili taste to me.
This was part of the leftover food that I took back from the beach this weekend, and I remember thinking when I saw it, and this other small container of lasagna that I had eaten yesterday for dinner, "That was a lot of leftover lasagna from Pam's dinner at Carrabbas. It's hard to believe the serving was that big. Pam couldn't have eaten very much of it at all."
It was when I tasted the chili flavor that I exclaimed, "Oh my god. This isn't lasagna. This is the leftover dip that she made to go with the Tostitos!" We both fell out at that, but then kept eating it like it was lasagna, eventually smearing it on the bread.
After dinner, Jen brought out two pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and I did something I've never done in my 53 years on the planet: I ate ice cream out of the container. I had the Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream, described as vanilla ice cream with fudge covered waffle cone pieces & a caramel swirl, which was out of this world. Jen had the Chubby Hubby.
I watched Jen give her sweet dog, Nala, one of the treats that my friend Bob made for her, and I took a couple of pictures of the event to share with Bob later at Flex.
Dancing was fun tonight. There were several patrons in the bar other than the line dancers, including "Dougie." At one point I went and introduced myself to a guy that Doug was talking to. His name was Mike and he was here on business from New Jersey.