I have begun to spike my ketchup with Tabasco. A woman across the cafe watched me as I squirted ketchup onto my plate, then liberally dumped Tabasco sauce onto the ketchup. I then speared a home fried potato and drowned it in the spicey tomato sauce. Absolute celebratory party in my mouth…follow with a double borgia chaser. And it was good. I have no idea what the lady across the cafe from me thought about this ritual. I do know that my observation of HER was a person who really didn’t want to be alone. She was going back and forth from a pretend focus on a local newspaper and a pretend friendly face to all who came in. We are all animals at heart, and I think most of us could smell her desperation.

I was alone too…but I enjoy being alone in a cafe. There is an incredible freedom to dining alone and it had been too long since my last solo dining experience. Way too long. I’m fascinated with individuals who claim, “I hate to go out alone…I hate to eat alone…” Why? You probably eat alone in your house all the time. What is the different out in public? Why are we so hesitant to eat alone…dance alone…go to the movies alone…

That being said, I deeply appreciate the company of others and, frankly, don’t get ENOUGH social time with other people. It is a difficult balancing act. Art work is solo work. Writing is solo. The solo work is usually complete at odd hours (11pm….3am) and those times are not conducive to calling a friend up and suggesting a late snack…or early breakfast. So…you start to do those things alone.

Anyway, I sat alone at a popular crepe and coffee place and thoroughly enjoyed my crepe and borgia. I read a little and wrote a lot. Spiked my ketchup and enjoyed my borgia (so much so I’m about ready to go back).

Contentment attained.