Guys night out

Vicki is a little under the weather, so I skipped class tonight to come home and help out. What she really needed was some rest, so Samson and I went out to eat. It was awesome; we had Chipotle, and miracle of miracles, no food ended up on the floor. Maybe we just need to eat all our meals there. I bet Uncle Greg would join us...

I want very much to teach my son to be kind, to be compassionate and patient. I bring this up because the woman in front of us on line, when placing her order, was offered a choice of pinto or black beans, and she asked which ones were which. The guy behind the counter, to his credit, simply pointed to the pintos, identified them as such, and then pointed to the black beans and did likewise. Now, I know that pinto is not among Crayola's chosen 64, but it seems like the black bean identification would be somewhat intuitive.

In any event, I resisted the temptation to be "helpful," for Samson's sake, so high fives all around. What do I mean by helpful, you ask?

When I was still working downtown, I got in an elevator one evening and pressed the button for the first floor. On the next floor, someone I didn't know got in and pressed the same button (which was already lit from my having pressed it) several times. He did so after a stop on the next floor, when nobody got on, and the door had closed again. I offered --- helpfully I thought --- this observation: "that button doesn't get any brighter." No response, but a half-scowl for my elevator tip.

I think it's worth noting that my father's joy at becoming a grandfather was probably matched only by the prospect of watching the karmic wise guy wheel begin a new revolution.