I love Yelp. I use it for all sorts of things. Yet there are times when I hate Yelp. I wanted us to grab a bite to eat near where we were to attend a screening of the Ethan and Joel Coen film, “Inside Llewyn Davis.” My daughter insisted that we eat somewhere with a high Yelp rating. We couldn’t just grab an inexpensive breakfast at Denny’s or IHOP. We ended up at the Griddle, highly Yelp rated and conveniently located next door to the DGA screening facility. We each ordered egg scambles. Given the name of the place perhaps we should have stuck with the pancakes. My eggs were over-cooked and not well spiced. My daughter’s were so heavily spiced that she couldn’t taste the egg. We’d spent easily four times what it would have cost us at any of a dozen breakfast restaurants. I was ready to write the Griddle off but my daughter encouraged me to give the place a second chance. I wouldn’t go out of my way but if I had another DGA screening, I would perhaps try the pancakes.
After breakfast (the Griddle does not encourage lingering over coffee) we waited outside for about forty minutes, my daughter soaking up the sun and reveling in California’s weather. With a half hour left until the film started, I insisted we go inside. I was glad I had. The theater was already filling up. Those who arrived fifteen minutes (or less) before the start were forced to sit in the front row or to split up into random single seats.
The film was interesting. It didn’t have nearly enough of the dark humor I’d come to expect from a Coen film. Over the course of the film I hated the lead or felt sorry for him. I can’t say that, other than briefly in the first scene, I felt sympathetic toward him. The sound track is going to fly off the shelves, great music! The performances were excellent. I can see why the film is critically acclaimed.
The rest of the day I spent getting the rest I’d been denying myself. My daughter met with friends.
Between naps I overheard a conversation between my mother and her last remaining relative in England, her sister-in-law. My mother gets on these jags. Her latest is that she wants all the things she left behind when she left her family home – her books, her letters, her diaries, sometimes even her furniture – back. I’ve tried to reason with her. I’ve explained that she left the home over 65 years ago. She insists that she’s been back just a year ago. I tell her that she had many opportunities to ask for her things back years ago and never did so most likely her stuff was considered abandoned and tossed out. She insists that the house belongs to her and everything in it is hers. I tell her it’s been Isobel’s home for more than half a century. She reminds me that it was her to polished the wood floors and selected and hung the wall paper through out the house. I overheard Isobel confirm that there was nothing of my mom’s still at the house but later, when my mom recounted the conversation, that detail was not one she mentioned. She still insists on flying back to England to see for herself. She hasn’t had these things for two/thirds of her life. I don’t know why she even wants these things. I can only guess it has something to do with reaching the end of your life.
If she was my only example of growing old, I’d say I never want to be that old. Luckily I have others. My ex in-laws are the same age as my mother but they are both still active, mentally sharp, engaged and much more aware than my mother is. I hope I’ll be more like them but you never know what will happen. Wow, now I’m getting depressed!