Tacos and Milk Tea


I was bored this evening. Yeah, there was a lot of stuff I could have done around the apartment, but I tend to need external motivation to complete things. Brazier was on call, too, and so wouldn’t be coming home tonight. I decided around 8p to go get some fish tacos from Berry Hill. Their fish tacos, by the way, are the best I’ve had in Houston. They come with a bunch of red cabbage and some kind of sauce that I can’t replicate at home. Yes, they’re fried, but they aren’t as greasy as you might think. In addition, their grilled version is just as tasty. Anyways, Anne and I were going to hang this evening, since she was getting over feeling like a scolded child (she was with the me the whole time), but needed her nails to dry since she had just finished giving herself a manicure. I called Edith up, thinking that she could hang with us at Tapioca Express after I had my tacos.

I ended up having the tacos myself and then going over to Tapioca Express for a tapioca milk tea. If you’ve never had it, tapioca milk tea is a sweet tea beverage originally from Taiwan. It’s pretty self explanatory, tea with milk and tapioca. You might have also heard it called bubble tea. It’s not the tapioca with which most people in the US might be familiar. It’s usually brown from the sugar and liquid in which it is prepared and is about the size of a small gumball. Shortly thereafter, Anne arrived and she ordered an Italian grape soda (She’s non-dairy and hates tea, so what’s a girl to do? If you’re white like her, order the most adventurous drink on the menu, obviously!) We sat at a table outside and I piddled around on the laptop while she practiced embroidery. She’s getting really good. She was practicing a paisley pattern I asked her to embroider on a shirt for me. We looked through some pictures that I had taken months ago at the end of the year banquet and had just downloaded onto my computer. And I learned a little bit more about her swinging friends Tom and Samantha. You never can tell about those quiet ones.

In typical fashion, Edith showed up much later than we knew better to expect. I think Anne and I sat around for a good 15-20 minutes before she showed up. So there we were, the three of us, just sitting around the table. It was familiar. Although we all came to work for the district at the same time, this past year Edith had moved up the ladder and Anne and I were still in the classroom. We used to be real tight, the three of us, but work schedules and duties had separated us. I showed them the pictures from the banquet and we just talked about the goings on. It wasn’t just like yesterday, but it was close enough. With hope, we’ll stay in touch. My first official day at my new school is this Thursday and I won’t be seeing these guys at work for the first time in two years.


I’ve never heard her that mad before…


So I did something stupid today. I visited a friend’s house while she was not home. Worse yet, her children were. Carol and I are pretty close and I thought I’d stop by and play with/watch the kids until she came home. We’d kinda made plans to hang out, so I thought it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Now, we’d talked before how she doesn’t like people just stopping by. Strike ONE on my part. Carol absolutely hates it. I think it’s because it makes her feel like she has to entertain and have her house clean. She doesn’t have to entertain me or clean house for me. In fact, when we hang out, I’m the one who does all the entertaining. I figured we were cool enough that it she’d get over it. Maybe, maybe not.

Carol calls me while I’m at her house and I hesitate, and tell her that I am actually at her house. Hindsight is 20/20 and she is livid. She can’t understand why I would do something like that when I know how she feels. I tell her something about really needing to use the restroom and being in the area. Of course she doesn’t buy it and asks me if that’s all I can come up with. I actually really did need to use the restroom. I had just finished a whole bottle of water and I can’t hold anything since my lithotripsy. Anyways, we obviously didn’t have plans to hang out anymore, as I’d violated her trust. So I leave and a couple of minutes later she calls back and wants to be more clear in her anger towards my actions. I don’t have kids and Carol does, so maybe I can’t understand her thinking she tells me, but she just can’t have anyone knocking on her door and going into her house. Even people the children know. The kids can’t think that it’s okay to let anyone in. Strike TWO. I see where she’s coming from. I get that she was extremely angry. I did something that she did not appreciate. I did something that placed her children in danger. She needed to make sure I understood that. I’m sorry Carol. All I can say is that I am sorry. It was rude and moreover, I wasn’t thinking how a mother might feel about someone visiting her kids like that. It will never happen again. If there’s a way to make it up to you, please tell me.

Kids on the Phone

This picture is for illustrative purposes only.

P.S. Yes I know that I referenced strike one and two. Where is the three? I couldn’t keep up the metaphor. If you think of it, comment and maybe I’ll change the post.