Monday, November 2, 2009

Blanketed by Sunday LOVE

Sunday was a wonderful day. I spent the morning becoming a Godmother—without the magic wand. My adorable 3-year-old Goddaughter slept through the service, even as the female, married Episcopalian priest also incorporated songs. Believe it or not, one song sounded like the Israeli Hava Nagila, and I wondered if the crowd would soon break into a Hora! When I asked about that, the priest shrugged her shoulders and said that we are all ONE! How true that is!!

We went to my Goddaughter’s grandparents’ house, and had a delicious lunch to celebrate. Man, can these folks cook!! My Goddaughter's father decorated a multicolored salad for me, because he knows I'm part rabbit. How touching when people prepare your favorite foods for you. But especially, how LOVING that is!! By the time we ate, my little honey was fully awake and filled with energy. How beautiful to watch this tiny ball of fire, intelligence and thought-flow. The love throughout this house was effervescent, and each moment I shared with this family was special. I am grateful to have been a participant in this event, and to have been made to feel so welcome in this, an addendum to my biological family. I truly want to make an impact on this little being’s life—with God’s help!

My next stop was a celebration for my friends’ older daughter who had just finished running the NYC marathon. Thirty-three years ago, I introduced my girlfriend to the man who turned out to be her husband. This couple remains as my closest friends. Their daughter, and another, are the brilliant and beautiful spawn of their union. Joining us were some of the runner’s friends from Yale, where she recently received an MBA. What a fabulous group of young and accomplished achievers! There were perhaps 12 of us in all. We ate at Ben’s on W. 38th Street in Manhattan. From there, I think we became transfixed into a Seinfeld episode with a waitress who was servicing us from Planet Uranus. She told us her earth name was Margaret, but I wonder what her real planetary name is . . .

Problems began when I told Margaret that my knife was dirty, and she gave me another one. When I showed her that that one was dirty, too, we suddenly heard crash, boom, bang. She was now THROWING the silverware in a bin right behind us in her anger over the dirty utensils. The crashing sounds were so loud, we jumped.

Then came my hot tea—carelessly spilled on the pants of my girlfriend and me. I joked, “It’s a good thing I’m not wearing white pants.” But we laughed and kind-heartedly took it in stride, as we continued our conversations. However, after that, Margaret managed to practically throw the soup at us, spilling it on the same spot she nailed us on with the hot tea. A second bowl of soup was spilled, too. At this point, I began to surmise that Margaret’s actions were deliberate. How clumsy an oaf could a waitress be? When she cleared our table to make room for our entree, the empty soup bowls were sloppily spilled on my camel cashmere coat. That was it!

She moved to the table next to ours which she was also serving. Suddenly, she issued the “F” word, which left the talkative gang at our lively table suddenly silent. We heard Margaret apologizing to the other table for SOMETHING. But then she was back to us, now apologizing to me for all the spillage. I told her I was sending the restaurant my dry cleaning bill for the coat, so she brought me an array of amazing chocolate cookies, which I passed around to the twenty-somethings who don’t have to work out as I to keep in shape. Then she offered to bring me a huge slice of some gooey cake. I nixed that. My girlfriend told the restaurant that Margaret needed to take a pill. Maybe she had already taken one, and we were reaping the effects.

Today my girlfriend’s husband called to tell me, “I understand there’s a new waitress school, and they’re looking for someone to practice on as a target. Would you consider the role?” I told him I had already put in my time, thank you very much. Although Ben’s Restaurant served tasty food, Margaret left a bad taste in my mouth, and I’ll ever eat there again. Aren't restaurants in recessionary times supposed to bend over backwards? Earth to Uranus, did you get the message??

Sunday was quite a day! Celebrations and honors for young and old, and a Seinfeld script that no one could have made up! But love blanketed me this Sunday, and it will be the LOVE part of this weekend that I will hold in my heart forever!


Patrick Ma said...

Dr. Gilda - A lovely post documenting the Sunday experience at Ben's. It was great to meet you and I hope the coat is salvageable!


Thank you, Patrick. What a pleasure to get your comment on my Blog. I'm sure we'll see each other again at another Lifshitz soire!!