Never thwart the kindness of strangers

On Saturday, I went to the Tavern with my sister and her fiancé and some of his friends to watch one of the playoff games. When I walked into the place, a burly, older fellow at the door beckoned me in and then proceeded to insist on paying for my first beer. That was nice. And I didn't have to sit on his lap or anything. So everyone was happy.

Today, I went back to this sushi place in Larchmont for the second time, and one of the sushi chefs apparently remembered me from my first visit. That was sort of flattering. He isn't even the chef who waited on me that time. But later, Angela and I watched him break a plate on top of a plate of ahi carpaccio, leaving chips of ceramic all over the fish. He then flicked away the ceramic pieces and moved the fish to another plate. That was weird to watch all out in the open and everything. No one complained of lacerations to the esophagus, but we didn't stay long after that, so who can tell?

I'm certain it's shallow of me to take notice every time someone shows me a kindness because I'm wearing low-riding pants or because my hair looks nice, but I can't help it. It's times like those that it feels really great to be a girl. If I'm being oppressed, so be it. I like feeling pretty.