Adjustment Happens

Tile by Michael Cohen

I seem to have made it through the big, awful anniversary day. I tried my best, along with Jen and Oni, to ease the pain levels, to distract myself and gag the sad a bit. I should totally get a big gold star and a cookie for my efforts alone.

The extreme heat combined with the radical heartbreak of being without my beautiful man, put me in a triple-max logy state. I was just this side of coma-time and NOT up for long walks around Portsmouth or the family packed northern beaches. Still, we were in Portsmouth so I made an attempt.

The best way to ease into a daunting day is to first hit a wonderful Independent Bookseller – preferably one which also serves coffee.

Now then, I’ve got plenty of reading matter here at home – I’m not going through book withdrawal BUT small, tourist town shops always have the most interesting never-seen-this-before stuff. Considering RiverRun has a publishing arm, the odds of finding something mind-whetting were huge.

We hoofed our way down but they weren't there. ‘the fuck and OH NOES! I’d just googled them that morning – they do so still exist. Jen to the rescue! She Sherlocked, found them five minutes away, in the other direction. Bastards had moved on me.

We swam through the oven-hot, dino-swamp atmosphere and slow moving crowds only to find that, OF COURSE, they were shut for the day. 

OOF and MEGA MOOF.

From there we plunged back to the center where I fell into my fave crafts/art gallery, N.W. Barrett, which was blessedly open.

Naturally, I couldn’t resist picking up yet another of Michael Cohen’s brilliant tiles and this beauteous light catcher/ornament by Michael Trimpol of Little River HotGlass Studio. Frankly, I was lucky to get outta the joint with such slight damage to my wallet. This abso-dazzling twin kaleidoscope dealio was really screaming my name loud and clear. The ‘scope was focused on and multi-reflecting a stunningly gorgeous art glass paperweight. Enrapturement ensued. I coulda stood there staring through the viewfinder all day.

We then ambled over to the fabuloso glass gallery that we visit on every single trip. No fucking joy. A large, sad, empty storefront was all we found. Bummer City.

After this disappointment (combined with the heinous heat), all I wanted was to sit, have a cold adult bev and a wee snack. We most often tumble into Portsmouth Gas Light after gallery hopping – it’s right there and the food’s very good. We def need to explore other options though. While the joint was def well staffed and not busy, getting our waitron to remember that she owed us a couple watermelon cocktails was no mean feat.

After 20 minutes Jen went up to the hostess to inquire. The response "Oh, we're very busy today..."
And? That's your problem to solve, not ours to suffer through. The correct response is "I'm so sorry. I'll get those to you now." or something like that.

I might’ve survived this cruel delay and customer service FAIL if not for the devastatingly dull sartorial statements of ALL their customers. Ya know, I really hope those baggy white polo shirts and you-could-hide-a-Walmart-in-these ugly, khaki cargo pants are trés comfy coz they’re doin’ jack shit for your appearance. Everyone looks like a bed, irretrievably rumpled after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning. Sorry, not even Beyonce can make cargo shorts zing.

Bad service AND cataclysmically mundane people watching? CLEARLY, we’d suffered enough and packed it in.

A wonderful friend told me that there's no getting over such a devastating loss. Adjustment happens. Some days are better than others. There ain't no outrunning the pain. The Big Bad Sad – I just gotta freestyle my way through this.