What’s happened so far this weekend? Work, lots of it. Saturday morning the parents weren’t home, so breakfast was done naked. I’m fairly certain that a neighbor saw me making waffles naked. I don’t know if he can complain about that, after all he was looking in my windows. Friday night the kitchen ran asparagus as the vegetable, and I ate a bunch of it and than drank the water standing in the bottom of the bucket we were keeping it in. My stomach informed me it was going to evacuate that fluid, and I told it no it most certainly was not going to evacuate anything and it better just shut it’s big yap. I kept it down, and after the want to vomit passed, I felt pretty darn good, like I had drank 20 servings of vegetables.
Saturday night, Katie came into Zanesville and the plan was, after work to go to Bootleg Tattoo and get my tattoo touched up. After my shift was over I retreated to one of my dark places in the restaurant and changed into some clothes I had cached there. This is one of the many times that I think Ryan understand he will never understand me. I come back upstairs, after going down about ten minutes earlier wearing cargos and a stained white t-shirt and I return wearing black Dockers and a blue shirt and black tie. He looks amazed. He asks me where I’m going, I tell him Bootleg Tattoo. He looks puzzled. I tell him this is a place of high art where people have images permanently engraved on their bodies therefore I can’t just show up all scummy from work, what will they think of me? He looks puzzled. I leave.
I wait for Katie outside. She shows up, she looks cold and sounds sick. Bootleg is closed. It’s a quarter til eleven and their sign says they’re open until midnight. I start for Ink Express, which is a block down, Katie doesn’t seem to like that idea. No problem, she suggests Monkeyhead, that’s cool. We can’t find Monkeyhead. I tell her we’re going to Incorporated, and I hope they’re open late. I change my mind as we drive and tell her we’re just going to go to Ink. At Ink, we go in, we wait. I smell cigarette smoke. Tattoo parlors always seem to stink of cigarettes. I’m in a shirt and tie, the man comes out and apologizes to us for waiting. We treat each other like it’s a business meeting, except one of us has dark teeth and a cacophony of art of the vulgar man painted just under the surface of both of his arms, and a limited vocabulary. I tell him I have a tattoo that needs some spots filled in. He asks me where I got it done. He knows. I tell him Bootleg. I tell him they closed early. He looks hesitant. Don’t work on their tattoos, huh? I ask. He says, usually not. I say, not a problem, I’ll just wait until their open another time. He smells money walking out the door. He asks me if he can take a look at it. A jacket, tie, shirt, and undershirt later, he tells me there is a cut in the meat of it and he can’t work on it. Let it heal and come back. Lubriderm is my friend he tells me, I’ll like it. We leave.
We go to Steak’N’Shake, a bit of a spat to start dinner off, no blame will be assigned on this one, we’re both stupid kids, we both know this. I have root beer, she has a milkshake and something off the kid’s menu. Most of the dinner conversation is about the regular things that usually don’t carry a lot of importance, our important stuff will come later. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a seriously good conversation about seriously important things before midnight.
We walked around the courthouse. We drove on I-70. We sat in the truck outside of her dad’s apartment. We laughed, we cried, we were happy, we were sad.
She went home. I went to White Castle.
At home, I found an e-mail from La Dayna. She was upset, but didn’t tell me why. There are two things with La Dayna that happen when she’s worked up… Excited about something or angry about something… She either requires, and I think this is a subconscious thing, that whoever she’s talking to pries the information out of her, or she’ll do the opposite, which is try to give as much information as possible, but so quickly, that she omits stuff, important stuff. Last night was the former. Now, La Dayna, recently has been checking in with me a lot. She’s been worried. I appreciate that. Last night, I think one of my e-mails to her got lost somewhere along the way and I fell asleep waiting for a reply that would never come. I felt bad this morning because I wasn’t there for her when she wanted me too, particularly after this week when she’s been very attentive to me. Didn’t feel fair.
This morning, I woke up at about seven. I went down to the kitchen and poured myself some water and talked to my mom. Part of the way through the conversation I realized that four or five hours of sleep wasn’t going to do it for a long day ahead, so I told her I wasn’t going to go to church and I’m going back to bed.
After more sleep, I did work in the Bible for my book. Needed some referances out of it. Courtney and Ray showed up for lunch a little after noon. Chili and peanut butter sandwiches.
Courtney: Do you want wheat? or sourdough?
Ray: (points to wheat)
Me: Your baby has a bread preference?
Courtney: I don’t think she does, I just ask her anyway.