Stepping off the Ledge

Got a call from a dancer yesterday looking to make reservations for our show Friday night. The restaurant's number was giving her a recording saying the number had been disconnected. She called me to see what the deal was.

First off, I answered the phone with a shitty attitude after spending a day with the Girl arguing over the fact that I am not about to let a 3yo talk me into breaking the law at her whim. Where does she get this stubborn streak?

Anyway, after spening 5 minutes talking to this dancer I finally realized which dancer I was, in fact talking to. I actually like the version of the dancer.

Anyway, I assued her that I would run over to the restaurant and personally get her reservation down in the books. Then Whatever other ones she had, I would add them.

After watching Sparky be his Clown Prince self at Tball and Kabloey send the first pitch at him into the wrning track, it was time for me to get the Girl and Sparky home.

On a lark, I turned north to Sunrise. It was dark in teh dining room and lit in the kitchen. i parked badly so i cold jump out and check the phone number. It was the same, but gasp! arg! there was a sign that read "restaurant close" [sic].

Spluttering back to the car, I drove around, cutting between pedestrians (yes, yes, very unhip in the Pacific Northwest, but in the South you accumulate points for how many you make scream). I pulled into the alley, dodging Gospel Mission homeless outdoor buffet diners and parked. I pulled Sparky adn Girl out of car with the stern admonition to keep holding my hand. A "gentlemen" was reading the riot act to another in front of the pawn shop. Yup, the best part of town.

I got to the door, saw some heads in the back and the door was unlocked. I opened it, calling the owner's name. (Yes, if I was a buxom blonde bimbo in a chop top and shorts, the music would have been veering toward ominous. I also would not have had two young children with me.)

A head attached to a body came out. He told me there was no more Indian restaurant there, that it would be an Italian restaurant by the end of next month.

Splutter and befuddled, I took the kids outside, past the now growing number of "gentlemen" (they had made it to four), and headed to the car. Called Samira to tell her what was up. She spluttered and we agreed I would call Z, our featured dancer this month, to tell her what was up.

Z spluttered, came up with "what I would do" and agreed to wait to hear from me on the morrow.

The morrow is here after a few more spluttering phone calls to Samira and Arries.

In a typical Pacific Northwest scenario, I dropped the kids off, told my story wnough times to start to unnerve me, jumped in the van with Whiskey Jack and drove off to score some freen sand.

IT WAS CLOSED! opened Fridays only. *sigh* On to the Store of Ultimate Decadence where I bought more cheese than needed, especially as the SoUD will host a cheese sale in two days. Therapy shopping, OK?

I had promised the Girl a cocoa. Offered to buy a decaf for WJ. We agreed to have WJ unload groceries and I would trip over to Starbucks.

I get the orders right. Spill some cocoa on the hip music display. The cashier says, "I hope you're having a good day." Huh?

I asked her how much of my life story was she interested in hearing. I needed a new belly dance venue. And before I irritate the nice gentlemen (Notice, no quotes) behind me, I gave her the in a nutshell version.

The gentlemen asked what sort of dance? Belly dancing. "I have an underground lounge." RED FLAGS! Creep alert! He goes on to list his philanthropic buildings, he is real estate, there's lots of place to host such an event. I took his name and number with a promise to call. As I write his info down, I ask him if he had ever been written up in the news. he said, yes, a few times. Hmmmm.

Get to school with groceries intact, load up Sparky, butter braids, go home. Eat lunch - gotta home fuel you know. Head over to Moonflower Magicks to beg for a space Friday. It works out! I ask the help there if they had ever heard of this guy. One of them has.

Seems this guy is wealthy, in real estate, politician and known. That bodes well.

I haven't called him yet. But I'll let you know when I step off the. Will you have to scrap me off the pavement or dodge my flying crap? We'll see.