Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

"A Bottle of Red....a Bottle of White...it all depends upon your appetite"

All apologies to Billy Joel...for me it's always a bottle of red.
The sharp-eyed amongst you have probably already noticed that frequently the titles of these posts are usually 1980s songs, although in this case, I think it's 1977.

I ended up at an Italian restaurant this evening. Ended up?
Yep, I had a hair salon appointment and yet found myself bellying up to the bar for a glass of red instead. How I got there is a story in of itself. It starts with an arrogant presumption that I could somehow manipulate traffic, it ended up with me 5o minutes later sitting on barstool. There's a lot of 'stuff' in the middle, me shaking my fist at fellow drivers, stressing out, and gaining a few more un-coiffed grey hairs. But sitting here hours away from it, the triviality of it embarrasses me.

It's unusual for me to take a walk off the beaten path. But lately, I've been finding myself in all sorts of situations that I wouldn't have even thought of a year ago.

I know I've been away from this blog for some weeks. The old me would have apologized I guess.
This me, decided she wouldn't put up with the traffic one minute more, and that she would no longer ignore her screaming bladder, literally got off the highway, parked her German car, Gunther (I name everything) walked up to the bar like she belonged, ordered a glass of house red and demanded the way to the Ladies.

I had a terrific meal, the glass of wine soothing the pounding of my temples, the olive oil and garlic somehow, like an Italian Nonna, making everything okay again. But I think it was more than that, somehow it was the gumption to say what I will and what I won't accept. The old me would have kept desperately slogging through traffic.

Instead I sit back and watch as the chefs toss saute pans of steaming clams with red sauce, dousing the pans with wine as orange flames leap up in the air. I watch them shovel pizzas in and out of the wood-fired oven, jostle around each other with bottles of wine and glasses. One man's only job seems to be delivering endless baskets of bread with saucers of olive oil and wine vinegar to hungry diners. Two of the waiters, I kid you not, sing arias as they dash back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room.  It has to be, the best show that I've seen in months and I watch mesmerized from my bar stool as they stage this elaborate gastronomic ballet.

After a few moments, I find myself idly swirling the wine around in my glass, lost in my thoughts.

A lot has happened lately.

I became a licensed insurance agent back in April.

I let go of the Miata for a newer car.

I've been learning the ropes of a new job. I did finally get a job. It's too early to say much, except that I will go so far as to refer to them as Not Non-Company which is actually way more of a compliment than one would think.

It's a whole new field for me. And when you are 41, it's different than trying to do this when you are 21.

My whole life changed when my Dad got diagnosed with diabetes nearly 5 months ago. Suddenly I had to learn to cook a whole new way. I had to learn to eat in a whole new way. Whereas before I used to see vegetables as an accompaniment to the meat and starch, I've begun to see that the meat and starches should be the accompaniment to vegetables. And that fruit IS a dessert and a pretty darn good one.

As is my wont, maybe I even took that a bit too far. But I liked the new way I felt, so much lighter and less full. Suddenly, there were more possibilities than I've seen in quite a while. I kind of became a food Nazi, zealously reading every label and agonizing over everything I put in my mouth. I realized today that maybe there has to be balance too. I have to quit 'dinging' myself every time I give in to a craving and buy a small pack of cookies at the drugstore, or eat an Egg White McMuffin, feverishly rationalizing that the fact that it is egg whites on a multi grain roll make it better.

As I sat in the bar at the Italian restaurant this evening thinking over the events of the last 9 months, I realized that I'd come a long way. I think of myself this time last year, mired down in angry depression, forcing myself every day to a job I hated, and too scared and too stubborn to quit. I think of the shock and anger of being laid off after giving my entire life to the company. I think of the months of reinvention and unemployment, and sometimes just pure insanity. Too much NCIS on Netflix, too many eps of Property Brothers, just too much...time on my hands.

I grin, smile at the waiter, tell him how much I loved the meal and order...a cannoli!

"I'll meet you any time you want at our Italian restaurant..."