It's been awhile since I've felt comfortable at the Merc, but I wanted a Magner's and I was going to be in Goleta anyway.
It's been awhile since I was out and about, drinking Belgian beers on the house, knowing every third person. Every third person I knew didn't recognize me.
We've all gained and lost weight and lovers, hair and jobs.
Everything comes full circle there. The ladies who trained me and quit are working my old shifts. The mother-daughter team was there- the daughter used to work while the mother partied, and now they've switched up again.
I was able to garner some interest for a weekly yoga class at the bar owner's house, a discussion had while she dished up corned beef and cabbage.
I spoke vaguely of my future travels, New York* in a few weeks, India** in October.
The mother mentioned a trip she'd be taking soon.
"Oh, where are you headed?" I asked.
"We don't know," she responded, nuzzling into her boyfriend's waist-length hair and shoulder-length beard. "We just want to go."
*The boyfriend and I are going to spend this rainy weekend making cinnamon-streusel pancakes and pot roast and eating ice cream sundaes off each other whilst plotting our itinerary based purely on where we want to eat in Manhattan. I think I've convinced him that we'll need to walk to each of these places to justify eating at six different restaurants per day, but he's pretty sure we can burn the calories via sex.
**Maybe, for panchakarma. I hope it works out.