Door Prize

Hello World,

So the second week of September has come and gone already, and you won't find me complaining about it, heaven knows. Since the last few weeks, I have a whole new standard for success, and I figure that any week without tornadoes, earthquakes or hurricanes is one to be commended, and certainly not taken for granted, that's for sure. I won't even cast aspersions on the weather, which went from 90 degrees all of last week with dripping humidity, suddenly to daytime highs in the 60's, and 50 degrees overnight that had us reaching for blankets and hot water bottles, by golly. It may be chilly, but it's been gloriously sunny and dry, and around here that means that all of the doors that were stuck shut in the dampness are now swinging open, and the ones that were too swollen to close, can now be latched with ease. The weather has been just the ticket for our very late roses, phlox and finally some straggly black-eyed Susans, and even the fall crocus and cyclamen have popped up to lend cheer to the landscape. The door to the summer may indeed be closing, but at least it's not being blown off its hinges or flooded over its frame like two weeks ago.

Now what may be new and exciting on the local dining scene, you may be wondering, and well may you wonder. For literally decades, Bill and I have gone to the same local diner every Friday night after work, for the same combination of appetizers that we love so much, but which would be too much trouble to make for ourselves at home. So we were understandably jittery when one of the waiters mentioned, I thought in a rather off-hand manner, that they were going to be closed for renovations, which might last up to 3 months. This was indeed a blow! Even worse, we were faced with the appalling prospect that this cozy but somewhat unpopular eatery might close for alterations and never actually open up again, and then where would we be, I ask you that. So we asked the waiter what the staff and other patrons would be doing in the interim, and he named a couple of other places that we could try for the duration. All of them had the disadvantage of being much farther away, and most were so crowded, cramped and noisy that there was no pleasure to eating there. Going some place different every week, we found the food hit-or-miss, and often the traffic and parking were so excruciating that we couldn't bring ourselves to go back.

So it was with joyful hearts when we first noticed the "Grand Opening" sign in front of our trusty old diner, and gaily waving pennants from all of the poles to welcome in a clamoring public, well, the two of us at least. And back we went on Friday as usual, and I can tell you, we soon discovered that we were not in Kansas anymore, Toto. We knew they had changed the name to BLD Diner (it stands for breakfast-lunch-dinner) and we weren't alarmed by what we considered a minor difference. [And I would tell you to feel free to go right ahead and visit their web site at www.BLD-DINER.com and see for yourselves, however, unfortunately the site is still under construction and right now has nothing but their name and a "Coming Soon" note. It must be said that often these are the web design equivalent of "vapor ware," which is they give every indication that they will soon be up and running, but in fact, will never get any farther that what is there already, alas.] But when we first got there, at about our usual time, we couldn't help but notice that the new and improved parking lot was parked solid in every direction, compared to the emptiness we had come to expect. Inside, the once light and somewhat bland decor had given way to a more dark and edgy ambience, which might be considered chic, but never cozy. Every seat was taken, even at the counter, and as we gaped around, like a couple of six-headed polka-dot space aliens, we couldn't help but notice that we did not recognize one single solitary soul in the place - from the hostess to the waiters, bus boys, cooks and even other customers. It was like a Mission Impossible episode where they put something up on a spot and then try to convince the bad guys that it's been there all along, at least until somebody accidentally drops that John F. Kennedy half-dollar, and the jig is up. There is no punch line to this story, but it will come as a surprise to nobody that the new and supposedly improved menu does not include our favorite appetizers, and normally this is where I would be saying thanks so very much not, but frankly, words fail me.

Speaking of popularity, lately our property has been the scene of wall-to-wall contractors and their crews, tackling the unenviable job of shoring up our old sagging porches, or know the reason why. A logical person might think that bunches of big burly men in heavy work boots tramping around the yard would scare off the neighbors' cats and resident strays, always on the lookout for a free meal on our front porch, but apparently nothing could be further from the truth. The cats show up in droves as soon as the trucks hit the driveway, as it turns out the contractors couldn't be more popular with the neighborhood cats if they tried, and as odd as it sounds, the feeling is mutual. Rather than consider them a nuisance for being continually underfoot, the workers are infatuated with the lot of them, from the grittiest alley cat to the prissiest princess, and they can't wait to recount their whimsical antics like proud parents. Even the formidable she-devil from next door has won them over - and she's earned no great following around here, even in her own house, believe me - so it won't be long before our contractors are starting the Cinna-Mooch Fan Club, I shouldn't wonder, because they can't get enough of her. They're even on a first-name basis with two skittish strays that we've been feeding for months, who refuse to get anywhere near us, and apparently find this crowd of robust laborers more to their liking. Besides that, they claim to see cats regularly in our yard that we've never set eyes on, like an adorable kitten with two different colored ears. (Of course, there's always the possibility that they've been spending a little too much time in the "Hospitality Tent," as it were, so that can't be ruled out either.) All this time, we thought we would make a hit with the neighborhood kitties by putting out food for them, when all along, all we needed to do was hire a caravan of contractors instead.

So far, my absolute favorite part of the entire construction project has been, of course, a cat story that one of the contractors told me about working at another customer's house. (Whenever you meet other people with cats, you can always count on trading cat stories with them, and this no exception.) It seems that he was working with a different sub-contractor, and someone who had no pets, so didn't have any experience with them. The homeowner's biggest concern was that the workers would accidentally leave a door open, and her precious pussy would escape, so everyone was carefully instructed on the importance of keeping doors closed. This was "preaching to the choir" for the contractor and his cat-loving crew, but everyone realized the problem with the sub-contractor, whose lack of companion animals, they believed, would render him oblivious to the danger. This seemed to be borne out one day when they were wrapping up at the job-site, only to have the sub-contractor suddenly exclaim that he thought the cat had gotten out, and he forgot to go round it up and put it back inside. Whereupon he dashed headlong back into the yard, scooped up the cat from under the bushes - spitting and screeching and scratching with all its might - and threw it inside the front door, just barely closing the door ahead of its desperate attempt to escape. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and left with a clear conscience that disaster had been narrowly averted. That is, until the homeowner returned later and called the contractor to complain that, far from letting out her own little furry darling (who was sound asleep on the bed) somehow they had let IN some mysterious scruffy vagabond that she had never seen before, and had caused no end of havoc until they were able to shoo it back outside where it belonged. Ya gotta love it! Of course, around here we like to believe that good intentions count for something, but I think the moral here is that when it comes to contractors and cats, the Hospitality Tent should be avoided at all costs.

Elle