Way back when, we were the kind of people who waited for a table at Roberta’s (of Bushwick) to eat pizza. I don’t even remember the pizza we ate––could have had clams? Jalapeño? I do remember it was summer so we were waiting in their outdoor space with a crap load of other people. I am no longer that kind of people.

The best za is the za your husband makes
In Los Angeles, the Fathers Office bar said the wait would be close to an hour for a seat at the bar, as if they were doing us a favor to have us pay twenty dollars for a martini while a pile up of people hovered behind us, infusing our drinks with their mouth breathing, and no guarantee they'd rinsed with mouthwash before leaving the house. Just drink at home.

Some places where we didn’t have to wait too long for drinks: Bar 169, Prime on 9, Rucola
One of the worst waits was Lunar New Year 2019 when the Old Ladies were still alive and we took them for dim sum at East Harbor Seafood Palace in Sunset Park. The guy calling numbers called all the numbers in the known universe except for ours. Then lion dancers came in to make it seem as if we were having a good time. Like it was festive. I didn’t know I had to scream and cry to get a table for four to eat chicken feet and ha cheung. Was it an hour that we waited and huddled like the masses from the Ellis lsland film reels they forced us to watch at the IFC last week while we were trying to see the hummingbird movie? Yes. After we were finally seated, my aunt toppled off her chair as we tried to wave down the ladies who cart. I won’t go back to that ridiculous debacle of a parody of a restaurant scene reminescent of a Norman Jewison flick.

Or go here in Philly's Chinatown

My Old Ladies circa 2019
I get that there are things worth waiting for, like my laundry cycle, a letter from my pen pal, Harley Elliott, and for Matt to wrest open the oysters (thank you oysters for your sacrifice).

And most important of all, waiting to spend time with my lovies: best friend, Tab and her husband Tony, and my beloved, Matt.

The remains of the day at Terhune Orchards near Princeton, NJ
The waiting that is so embedded in all the aspects of our daily living is what distorts our understanding of time as it pertains to our mortality. We are not exactly waiting to die, but we are moving towards death, but how do we reconcile ourselves to that? As in your spirit force is going to leave you whereupon you will turn to stone and crumble into dirt.
I know Rilke said, we "must also have been beside the dying, one must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises," and so I have looked at a dying face, but when will I be the wiser for having done so?

I am reelin' in the years, stowin' away the time, gatherin' up the tears...yes, I have had enough of yours.
Comments