SoCS — Dinner Reservations

1F089DFA-D925-49EE-903A-5942AF2892FBMy wife was waiting for me near the entrance to the restaurant after I had dropped her off and parked the car. “I’m really excited to be here. I read about it in the paper and people are raving. Thank you so much for taking me here on my birthday.”

“I knew you wanted to try this place, so I made reservations several months ago,” I told her. She squeezed my hand as we walked into the restaurant, which was packed. I looked at my watch and saw that we were a few minutes early. “Wait here,” I said to her. “I’m going to check with the hostess on the status of our table.”

When I got to the hostess’ desk, I said, “The Wheeler party is here.”

She tapped on the screen of her iPad and then looked up at me. “You said ‘Wheeler?’” I nodded. “How many in your party?” she asked.

“Two,” I said. She tapped on her iPad again.

“For what time?” she asked.

“Eight o’clock,” I answered.

“Do you have a reservation?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I have a reservation. I made it two months ago.”

She tapped yet again on her iPad and then looked up at me apologetically and said, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wheeler, but I can’t find your reservation. Are you sure it was for tonight?”

“Of course I’m sure,” I said, a tone of indignation creeping into my voice. “Today is my wife’s birthday. When I made the reservation two months ago, I told them that and asked them to arrange for a special dessert for the occasion.”

“Would you excuse me for just a moment,” she said and headed back toward the kitchen.

My wife came over and asked me if there was a problem. “They don’t seem to have our reservation in their system,” I said. “I’m sure it’s just a glitch.”

“Oh, I hope they find it,” she said. “I’ll be so disappointed if we can’t eat here tonight.”

At that moment, a man came out, followed by the hostess who had been unable to find my reservation. He reached out to shake my hand. “I’m Henri, Mr. Wheeler,” he said with a slight French accent. “I am the owner and head chef. There has apparently been a mistake with your reservation, but if you’ll be patient with us, we can have a table ready for you in 20 to 30 minutes. Please have a seat at the bar while you’re waiting for your table and enjoy complementary cocktails for yourself and your lovely wife. And for your troubles, dessert will be on the house tonight. Is this satisfactory?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Très bien,” he said. “Lynn, our hostess, will escort you to the bar.”

Once my wife and I were situated at the bar and had been served our drinks, she leaned over and gave me a kiss, telling me how delighted she was that we would be eating at this restaurant and pleased that the reservation mess got straightened out.

“Yeah, me too,” I said, not mentioning to her that I had completely forgotten about her birthday until late that afternoon and had never made reservations at the restaurant.

Written for today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. The prompt is the word “reservation.”

SoCS — All About the Noun

F20C39CA-980F-45B7-B94B-481B7FB740DCNouns: you can’t live with them, you can’t live without them. Am I right, or what?

Nouns are words used to identify any of a class of people, places, or things. And while necessary, nouns mostly just sit there. In and of themselves, they don’t do much. Well, except for pronouns like “you” and “me,” “her” and “him,” “them” and “us.” I take pronouns personally.

But when it comes right down to it, I prefer verbs over nouns. Verbs are words used to describe an action, state, or occurrence. Verbs do things while nouns just hang out waiting for verbs to do things to, with, on, or around them.

Take the sentence, “He ate my ice cream.” The words “he,” “my,” and “ice cream” are nouns. (Well, technically, in this sentence the word “ice” might be considered an adjective, as it’s describing a type of cream. It’s ice cream and not sour cream or whipped cream. That said, “ice” can also be a noun, as in “Do you have any ice?”)

But I digress. The key to this sentence is not who did what to whom, but what action was done. He ate my ice cream. He could have done other things to my ice cream, like dropped it or melted it or tossed it. But he ate it. And for that act, I hate him. I really wanted to eat that ice cream myself, dammit.

So be aware, nouns, you may be the subject of — and even the object of — nearly every sentence, but it’s verbs where the action is.

And not to pile on, nouns, but it’s adjectives that make you interesting. It’s adjectives that give you color and size and depth and personality. Without adjectives, nouns, you’re kinda boring and lifeless. And without verbs, you ain’t doing much of anything.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. The challenge is to simply to start your post with a noun.

SoCS — Unfavorite

img_1509Linda G. Hill asked us to write a post about our favorite word for today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. I’m going to be like that proverbial salmon swimming upstream against the current. I’m going to post about a word that nauseates me whenever I hear it, which, these days, is way too often.

That word is “unprecedented.”

The word “unprecedented” has historically been a somewhat benign word. According to, unprecedented means “without previous instance; never before known or experienced; unexampled or unparalleled.”

Unprecedented can be used describe things, good or bad, that are unique. Good things like unprecedented success, accomplishments, enthusiasm, or show of support. Or bad things like unprecedented disasters or failures.

So why does seeing or hearing the word “unprecedented” make me sick? Because of Donald Trump.

Ever since he rode down that escalator in Trump Tower almost three years ago, Trump has been breaking norms and shattering traditions. And from the very beginning, reporters, journalists, pundits, and politicians on both sides of the aisle have described his behavior, actions, and words as “unprecedented.”

But while the word itself is neutral, in the context of Donald Trump as President of the United States, it’s a gross understatement.

Trump is not merely unprecedented, he is disastrous. He is a lying, cheating, treasonous conman who is destroying our country. And he’s getting away with it because there is no real precedent for a selfish, shameless, immoral, racist, sexist, homophobic, misogynistic, unfit, unhinged moron like Trump as the type of person who occupies the Oval Office.

So please stop saying that what he says, what he does, and how he acts is unprecedented. It’s so much worse than that, which is why I can’t stand that word anymore.

SoCS — The Grilling

SONY DSCFor today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill, we are asked to use the word “grill” in our stream of consciousness post.

How appropriate for Memorial Day weekend, right? I will be grilling steaks, burgers, and fish on Monday and I’m really looking forward to it. But I figure that most everyone will be writing abour how they are planning to be out with their grills on their decks or patios or at the park or the beach grilling up a storm.

So just to be different, I thought I’d write a brief tale about a dysfunctional couple involving an apparently justifiable lack of trust. Here goes.

“Late again, I see,” Betsy said when Jack walked through the front door.

Jack sighed, knowing what he was in for. “Dan’s meeting ran late and then traffic on the thruway was a bitch,” Jack said.

“Don’t lie to me Jack,” Betsy said. “I tried calling your cellphone but I got that damn message that you were driving and couldn’t answer.”

“My iPhone does that automatically when it senses that I’m driving in a car,” Jack explained.

“I know you can override that, Jack. So where were you really?” Betsy said.

“I swear, Betsy, Dan’s meeting ran long, and you know how bad traffic can be on a Friday night,” Jack said.

“Oh really? What was the meeting about?” Betsy wanted to know. “Who was in it? Any females?”

“Yes, of course there were females in the meeting. Half of Dan’s staff is made up of women.”

“So who did you sit next to at this long meeting? Was it Carolyn? What did you talk about?” Betsy asked. “And did you give her a ride home from this supposed meeting? She only lives about half a mile from here, right?”

“Jesus, Betsy, I can’t stand it when you grill me like this almost every time I come home from work even a few minutes late,” Jack said. “I’ve had it with this shit. I’m going to the pub for a few beers to give you time to calm down. You need to get a hold of yourself by the time I get back in a couple of hours.”

And with that, Jack turned around and walked out of the house. He got in his car and pulled away, burning some rubber in the process. After driving a few blocks, he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car’s engine. He picked up his cellphone and punched in a number.

When the call was answered, he said, “Dan, this is Jack. Betsy’s getting suspicious.”

SoCS — Hollowed Out

I thought we completed each other.
I thought we made each other whole.
I thought we two were one.

4B394077-F0D7-4CF3-B9A2-7C2EECBD9A9EBut then you plunged that dagger deep into my heart.
You doused my light.
You ripped out my soul.
You soured my spirit.

I am now an empty, hollow shell of the man I once was.

The man who only wanted to fill your soul with hope.

But who now only wants to fill your hole with soap.

Written for today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. We are to use “empty” and/or “hollow” in our posts.