Eccentric Snob

I am a fallen woman. I've teetered on the edge for years and have finally fallen to the eccentric side of human existence.

I spent my lunch hour viewing the Space Needle's elevator go up and down. In my twenty minute lunch it made the sixty story round trip three times. Every time it went up, five minutes later it came back down. It was either face the window and watch the elevator or turn around and watch some Jerry Springer type show on the HUGE TV set that dominates the break room that I haven't figured out yet how to turn off. And if it is off when I go into the lunch room, someone trails in behind me and bleeps, I mean blips it on. Elevator viewing is a fine alternative.

Or watching leaves fall. Seventeen observable leaves fell during one elevator round trip. Fall is still whispering around here. No huge splash of color or inundation of leaves. They are still gently falling. Sporadically falling. Countable falling.

I arrived at book club early last night and as I was sitting in Third Place Book Store's food court eating my stuffed baked potato, after I had perused the children's section for a book that doesn't seem to exist any more -- I saw two people worth watching.

The first: An older women, gray hair, stooped shoulders, cane, couldn't even guess her age, came in with a younger woman, thirtyish or so. The younger woman waited very patiently as the older women walked around every kiosk and counter and wall and along the window ledge and read every flier posted. Maybe two or three hundred fliers for everything from learn French to Jan Brett coming to performances at various venues. How odd, I thought.

I figure there is a story there that I will forever not know.

The second:

A women came in -- and sat down.
She got up to get some napkins and silverware -- and sat down
She opened and started reading a newspaper.
She left and made a food order and came back -- and sat down.
She left and returned with a food order -- and sat down.
She got up to get some condiments and returned -- and sat down.
She ate her food order.
She bussed her table -- and sat down.
She left to get a drink order, came back -- and sat down.

All the time, during all of her dining, reading, busing activities she never took off her purse/tote bag that was hanging on her arm. How odd, I thought.

I figured there is a story there that I might know.

Up on reflection, I couldn't decided if it was equally eccentric for me to be aware of and watching their eccentric activities. Which behavior was the eccentric one?

I figure there is a story there that I will forever not know.

And no one thinks I'm funny.

A lady at work told me she was working an a special project so I popped off "Well, project away" and she backed up three feet and went around me. I was terribly amused by my pun.


When Cathy, Jean and I were visiting Forks I wanted to carry a sign around that said I'm not a fan of Twilight, I just brought some one else. I'm innocent. It isn't me.

What a snob.

I accused, tried and condemned myself in about thirteen minutes. People still visit 221 Baker Steet. They follow Mark Twain down the mighty Mississippi. I was thrilled when I was in Northern California in John Steinbeck territory. They still visit Graceland. One of the rescued minors gets to go to Graceland. Who am I to say my taste is superior to someone elses. I haven't earned the right yet to dictate my taste to the world.

Jean said, "Well, I don't care what they think." I thought that is the more honest approach. Not caring and being a snob are definitely two different cows to milk. And I thought, well being aware of the problem is most of the cure, so I'm cured, I told myself, of being a snob.

Then I had a customer who was Mrs. Aas. That ugly snob part of me reared it's ugly head again. Well, I might be fat, old, poor, crooked, with bad eyesight and bad hearing but at least I don't have to go through life with the name of Aas.

Arrogant sonsabitch.

So the current task is to raise my eccentric level and lower my snob level until I'm perfectly balanced, well kind of balanced, well approaching balance, well maybe have balance in sight off on the distant horizon somewhere out there...


No one was passionate about our book club book Brooklyn. We loved the beginning as the young immigrant girl arrived in America and made a place for herself, economically, romantically, spiritually, but thought it had a wimpy ending. We spent the evening talking passionately about other things.

Three books up for perusal that sound good;
The Empire of the Summer Moon, about Quanah Parker, I forget the author, recommended to me, in part, because of the Oklahoma connection by Kathleen.
Earth Abides, a more positive post apocalyptic tale by George Stewart recommended by Sandy.
Cutting For Stone, by Abraham Verghese has rave reviews from Mary's literate sister, however a colleague at work gave the book to me with the note, "Suzanne quit it. Cat quit it. Can Jan handle it. Please do not return this book. I will die a happy girl if I never lay eyes on it again."

Next book club book: Waiting for Snow in Havana, by Carlos Eire.

Movie recommendation AFTER you see Social Network -- Catfish -- according to Eleanor it is the "what social networking has wrought" movie.

Snob: origin unknown, first used in 1781.