Still average-ish

R subbed in for T at trivia because basketball. It was even R’s idea to go, which is kind of unprecedented. We bombed delightfully in the first half and clawed our way just north of the middle in the second half.  So par for the proverbial course, really.  R ran into people he knows from the new job, so the world got a little smaller.

And then there was Shoeless Jane.  No idea what her name was, but she shall ever be Shoeless Jane.  She was sitting at the table next to us – these are tall bar-height tables, mind you – with her feet on the chair across from her.  Her sneakers were on the ground.  I’m not sure why, but there was something inherently more disturbing about socked feet on the chair than had she kicked off Birks or flip-flops and plopped bare feet on the chair.  Socks meant, “Yes, I’m chilling here at this table at a bar festooned with televisions showing various sports teams endeavoring to win their respective challenges, yet I am leaning back, feet up, beer in my left hand, stylus in my right, watching Frasier on an iPad.”

All of which was true.  But all of which you could surmise simply from the sight of be-socked feet on a tall chair.

Shoeless Jane.  Paragon of Chill.  Ambassador for skirting health code violations with impunity.  Watcher of Frasier.

Trivia may be a Cat Brain endeavor, but Shoeless Jane was a bizarre mix of Cat Brain and Dog Brain.  Living so fully in now, she thought a pub was her living room.  Living just enough in the past to want to feel human connections … while watching Frasier.