My dad was around to take me to dinner, as I still can't drive, and we went to Rangoli. We sat outside next to the Indian silks they've hung to keep the sun from people's eyes, and the light through the fabric turned my dad pink.
I ordered a vegetable curry and had trouble eating the naan bread. Not having any usable molars means that when I'm forced to actually chew I try to do it with my front teeth, tilting my head to keep the food in my mouth, like a dog eating kibble.
We walked up to Caban so that my dad could look at shirts, and on the way I couldn't stop sticking my tongue into one of holes where a tooth used to be. I could feel some little piece of food in there and I couldn't stand it. It's the worst feeling. I need one of those little birds that will hop into the mouth of a sleeping crocodile to pick out whatever is stuck between its teeth. At home, I have a syringe with no needle that I use to flush water into the holes and clean them out. Sachi told me about it. It's a good system, don't get me wrong, but it isn't portable.
There were some nice old bikes parked by the restaurant. One of them had an Ikea basket fixed to the handlebars, decorated by a single blank CD. I liked that.
At Caban I bought myself a blue sweater.
I wasn't expecting to spend any money tonight, but that's what happens when I go out with my dad. The blame lies with him.
6 comments:
I wish I had the guts to bike around the city. But I don't. I fear the head-squishing, spine snapping death.
Me too. I remember when a cyclist got run over by a freight truck near my elementary school. My friends and I stopped on our way home to look at the bloody place on the road where it happened.
And I STILL can't help thinking people look cool when they bike without a helmet. It's so European and jaunty. And stupid. And attractive?
I tried to be all bikey. It lasted a week. The Everest-like MOUNTAIN up Main street in Sahara like temperatures nearly killed me last summer.
Er, why does your dad look so pink?
"We sat outside next to the Indian silks they've hung to keep the sun from people's eyes, and the light through the fabric turned my dad pink".
He's also just a pink fellow. Always has been.
ooooooooooh, I thought it was, like you know, a metaphor.
dude.
Dude... Maybe it is. MAYBE IT IS?!
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