I'm Back

... Not that I went anywhere. I was here. At the computer. On the internet. Everyday. It's terrible really. It's as if I was driving by your house on a pleasant day, and you were there in the front yard watering your lawn, and I didn't even bother to pull over and say "Hey, don't you have sprinklers?" And there have actually been things to blog about (about which to blog?) and I just thought it would be easier on me to not blog. But no. Blogging provides some sort of release. My problems become yours. I walk away relieved and you walk away laughing. We both win. And I don't even have to pay you.

So here's my bloggable story from two weeks ago. After Bible study, I went out to lunch with some friends. (At DiCicco's on Nees for those wondering now and those who will wonder after reading this.) There were about 12 of us: half adults, half kids. The place was full (and rather small). We were talking and laughing and eating. This man got up from his table in the middle of the restaurant, came toward our table, looked right at me and angrily said something like "It's really inconsiderate of you to let you kid make so much noise in here" and he motioned to my two-year-old son. I was shocked. Certainly my son was making noise. So were the other kids (and adults) in the restaurant. But enough noise to warrant this rebuke? When the man started talking, I seriously thought I must know him from somewhere, that he was joking. When I couldn't place his face and he kept talking I realized he was serious. It was like in a movie: Everybody in the restaurant stopped eating and talking and was just watching. I tried to control the simultaneous rage and tears that were welling up inside of me. "Do you have any suggestions?" I asked, wondering if he could come up with something short of duct tape. "Yes I have children," he blurted. "I didn't ask if you had children. I asked if you had any suggestions." My question caught him off guard and he stammered a little. "I'm not a parent. I... I mean, I'm not the parent. I just think you're being inconsiderate." He turned around and went back to his seat. I turned back to my friends and tried not to totally lose it. (I didn't want the guy to have the satisfaction of knowing he disturbed me so deeply.) Everyone else in the restaurant was apparently afraid of getting yelled at, so conversations started back up very quietly. The hostess at the restaurant told one of my friends that this man eats there regularly and has yelled at other customers before. That made me feel a little better. This was such a surreal experience. I kept replaying it in my mind for the next three days. I hate doing that. But it really was an awful experience.