Friday, April 10, 2009

Frie - Day

Fridays hold a special place in my heart. As part of the working masses, I am lost until Friday and it is my beckon for time to myself. The work days seem longer, promise of happy hours or cook-free nights entice me. I long for the moment I am off the clock and wishing for the weekend to never end.

Fridays used to be the day I hopped a plane to NYC to see Patrick. The 6:10 flight from Tampa to LaGuardia was usually not on time and I didn’t get to his place until around 11. But hey it’s New York and 11pm is still part of the day. But he had worked all week too and the subway ride from Brooklyn into the city was not at all appealing to him. We stayed in drinking vodka and eating whatever he whipped up at that hour. No worries.

Now my Fridays are usually spent one of three ways: by myself to recoup for the week, out with friends usually Guy to happy hour at Georgies, or spending the evening with Ronn.

Last weekend, I went out with Michelle, which is a strange occurrence on its own. Very rarely does she get a chance to hang out on a Friday and even rarer is her desire to leave her home for the evening. But she did and we had a great time. We met up with Guy and Shawn and tagged along to a comedy show.
Not my cup of tea usually, this show was headlined by a hilarious woman Guy met when he was mentoring kids. It was also at this great historic hotel in Gulfport. We laughed and drank more nibbling on fruit and cheese. Mich had to get up early so she went home as me and my beaus continued on the merriment at Bellinis. If you are in this area, you have to try Bellinis and its sister restaurant, La Fogata.

Bellinis is sort of South Beach feel with fancy fruit drink and sample plates that will leave you wanting more. It also is like most great places around here, open to anyone and everyone. The table to our left propped up the cocktails of some young trendy and chic Spring Breakers who couldn’t afford the luxury of the real South Beach and made do with this eclectic community. To our right the table propped up the patrons, an artsy couple with a visible age difference. She was at least 20 years older than him, but you could see the admiration in his eyes. I just love that kind of “breaking the norm” thing.
What wasn’t so great was the filling of never fully recovering the next day. I usually don’t have the mega hangovers of headaches and puking, but I usually just get foggy and can’t seem to rest right. That’s when I make promises to not do that again, and I kept it since I had a relaxing evening at Ronn’s this week.

Knowing I didn’t really feel like cooking and taking into account the cast on my ankle, he fed us leftover pepperoni pizza and salad (Ok I made the salad since it is just one of those things I need to have at each meal.) He also humored me by watching 4 episodes of lost Season 3. He has never watched the show and I figured we would only watch one or two, but we watched the whole disk as I filled him in as best I could about what the background stories were for the different characters. I thought that was nice of him.

I’m not sure what future Fridays hold since there are a ton of fun things to do in this town. Maybe next week I’ll go play shuffleboard with Chris, or fly a kite on the beach at sunset, or maybe stay home and lose myself in Season 4. I know it sounds dull and boring, but sometimes one just needs that simple freedom of a Friday.

So Friday is the prompt and what better prompt than on Good Friday. Not being a practicing Catholic anymore, I eat meat on this day and still have the urge to look outside at 3pm to see if the sky has darkened. Good Fridays used to mean tuna fish sandwiches and benediction following the Stations of the Cross at school. God I hated all that, not the tuna, the Stations.

Every Friday can be Good

To go to work or not to go to work, that is the question.
Whether tis nobler to not shrug ones duties ,
The slings and arrows of an office job,
Or to take a paid day off to romp and play,
And by opposing, feel the stress of making it worthwhile.
No more, I brave the traffic and arrive still asleep,
The heart-ache of knowing only two days are mine,
The flesh and spirit wanting to see the sun,
Devoutly to be wished. I work, I yawn,
To write, perchance to be commended,
For in my sleep so broken at sunrise,
When I have shuffled from bed to desk,
Must give us a coffee break. There’s the respect,
That brings calamity of happy hour
For who could bear not celebrating our release,
From the oppressor and bask now in neon,
The pangs of Saturday’s fangs and knives,
The insolence of office, and the spurns of the morning after,
That patience leaves us making promises,
When I, myself only long for the next good Friday.

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