I’ve managed to fill my days with lots of varied part time work. This has had a chilling effect on my ability to find writing time, hence today’s catch-up musings:

My bike was stolen from my front yard. Not 8 feet from my open door. I kept expecting that some parent would notice that little Johnny had acquired a new bike, and upon realizing the child had not the wherewithal to have purchased  said bike, would force him to take it back. No such luck. Anyway, the bike I’ve cobbled together (also originally acquired through recycling and free) is one I like better than the stolen one, so it’s not all bad.

Then leaving work one evening at midnight, in a shopping center with 24/7 security, a fellow bike rider asked if I knew who might have stolen the seat from his bike. Sure enough, post and seat were gone. We park our bikes 10 feet from the door of the security office, in plain view of the officers inside through large pane windows. Consequently, I a) have added a seat saver to my current ride, and b) begin to wonder why theft is all of a sudden a recurring theme in my life. I don’t steal, I wonder what this karma is all about.

I’ve written before about my brain’s problem with other languages, but as a recap, when I was first in Thailand and learning Thai, I found that every time I was asked a question in Thai I would find myself answering in Spanish. I’ve always felt that my mind recognizes a foreign language, and answers in the only foreign language it knows. But now, after years of working on my Thai, I find myself again around a Spanish-speaking kitchen staff in restaurants. When they talk with me in Spanish, what do I speak? Thai. Go figure.

And speaking of being back in restaurants after a decade of other work, the one thing I’m most surprised about is the amount of food that is thrown away. I’m stunned. It’s not a gender issue, men leave as much on their plates as women. It also appears that no one reads what the side dishes are on the entrée, or else they’ve been such pigs with the chips and salsa awaiting the entrée there’s no room for them. I constantly throw out the entire side dish portion. Memo to diners: if you know you’re not going to eat the side dish, order a different side, or tell us not to put it on the plate in the first place. Saving the restaurant money will help keep prices down as wages rise, and saving food from being thrown away helps the planet.

And now, back to work!