One (or two,) thing(s) I didn’t tell you about...

Yesterday, I gave (an admittedly less than full,) synopsis of my Thanksgiving vacation, with copious notes on Grandma-based musings. What I didn’t tell you about was the flurry of activity which occurred on Sunday night, after Orpheus came home from work. He was called by his father regarding groceries, as the family was in town, dropping Chemie back off at school. When asked if he wanted to go out to dinner, he said no, as he didn’t want to leave me alone at his place with nothing to eat, which garnered me an invite. Now, the reason this was so surprising was that Orpheus’ Father had absolutely no desire to meet me before this point. He’s rather disappointed, you see, that his son is a fine performer on the skin flute, much like my Dad is disappointed in me for being rather an artisan on the same instrument.
Of course, the dinner invite threw me into a tizzy… I ran out to my car to get something more appropriate to wear (in this case, a red sweater. If I were to be martyred, I figured that the only way to go was dramatically, much like Mary, Queen of Scotts), ran back up six flights of stairs to O’s apartment, and ensconced myself firmly in the room of rest. I won’t tell you what I went through to make myself presentable, but it more or less worked. We went out, and had an OK, meal, despite the mariachi duet going on in the background with no audience. Orpheus was checked out pretty blatantly by our waitress’ trainer, which was uncomfortable for him. Our waitress herself sucked donkey parts, and was wearing a simple band-style mood ring, which I at first took to be a stone ring… It was green (nervous,) each and every time she came to the table, which gave me a private chuckle. As for O’s Dad, he was rather… conversationally impenetrable, with a poker face one should expect from a person who audits Credit Unions professionally. He did say it was a pleasure to meet me afterward, though I got the distinct impression he wished I had breasts. Que sera, I say to you, Mr. Proto-Orpheus! Que sera…
LAST night was interesting. I got my payout check for the retirement plan at my last job, which I optioned into a one-time early payout that was taxed to heck and back to pay down some debts. I finally bought a special, expandable in-drawer knife rack so I don’t have to keep my nice knives (I now have around $300.00 worth of cutlery,) sheathed, loose in a drawer. I also bought a honing steel. I did all of this after prepping dinner, and, as an exercise in kitchen mayhem, leaving Orpheus in charge of tending the pot while I went check depositing/shopping. It was, perhaps, a cruel thing to do, but the only way to swim is to just plain swim, and he has no confidence in the kitchen skills he’s built acting as my Sou Chef for the last few months. He did very, very well, incidentally, and I think he’s getting the hang of cooking, though he still prefers that I do it. I just wish he’d actually live up to our agreements and do the dishes when I cook. Grr…