Finally. I am at a place with the internet to file this report.
As people who know me in person know, I never know what day it is. The date is usually totally irrelevant to my lifestyle, so is the day of the week, unless it is Monday, the day when a a lot of restaurants are closed.
I will never begrudge anyone a day of rest. To do so would be churlish.
I wanted to write something in my notebook—something important—and I wanted to date it, to stick a pin in a moment in time. I did not know the date, so, I looked at the top of the page in today’s Wall Street Journal. Oh! Today is the 17th.
Today is my birthday.
I had already known it was my birthday. Mrs. King surprised me. But, I forgot what today’s date is. I live in New Orleans time. I have more important things going on that demand my attention like spinning plates in the air.
Have I mentioned that someone has made me their enemy? It is so rare, that, this situation is consuming a lot of my mental energy as I brood over his eventual absence. I am normally, as anyone who knows me can tell you, a friend to those who have no friends and an enemy only to those who choose to make me one.
Have I mentioned that Mrs. King has become a regular patroness of a particular Turkish delight shop on the West Bank?
We went to Terrytown, in unincorporated Gretna. There is a whole Turkish strip mall. The hookah lounge was not open but the hijab shop was. The Turkish cell phone shop was open but I am not in the market for cell phones. While Mrs. King was getting her Turkish delight cut to order I went into the hijab shop. There was nothing in there for me but I had a nice chitchat with the Turkish lady behind the counter.
The Turkish lady behind the counter knew as soon as I walked in the door that I was not going to buy anything. We yukked it up, both of us acting as goodwill ambassadors for our respective cultures, the American way.
I was dressed in the least Ottoman way possible, as I am most days, really.
I should wear a fez to dinner tonight. Mrs. King and I are meeting Vincent, who made the reservation because he has pull, at Crescent City Steaks. Dinner in a booth is always nice. I do not know this but I suspect Vincent is going to bring a hooker.
I put nothing past Vincent, the good-hearted lug. I am sure this hooker is going to have a heart of gold, just as Vincent, Mrs. King, and your humble narrator also have likewise.
I think I will wear my fez tonight. That cinches it, I am not wearing a fedora, or a top hat, or my tricorn. The matter is settled. I am going Turkish tonight. This is the best idea I have had all day.
Now, I will tell you about some other things I have learned while out-and-about…