Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Princess Chicken

I lay in bed this morning, listening to the baby gurgle and yelp and laugh, and I went through the usual feeling of dreading work, like the bottom of the tilt-a-whirl dropping out. Except this time I stopped myself, and smiled up at the cracks and spiderwebs. My second-to-last day. Relief.

For lunch I requested my "boss" take me to our favorite Chinese place, Yen-Ching, which we've pretty much abandoned since I've lost 25 lbs. over three months. (There really is no such thing as healthy Chinese food, even white rice is bad for you.) The restaurant is dark, with gilded molding running along every wall and corner while wild-eyed dragons dance in framed fabric art. Always, always there is a small old man who greets you with a wide smile and a sharp bow. He's the owner, you know from all the newspaper clippings hanging on the walls of the elaborate lobby. Newspaper clippings detailing how much he has given to Sept. 11 victims, or how he struggled to launch his business after immigrating from China. I always bow back, feeling both silly and proud at the same time. Hey, I once lived in Asia...

We brought along the third member of our social quartet (the fourth had an advanced Excel course), but it wasn't the same. Used to be we'd come to Yen Ching and gossip and complain and indulge but since I'm leaving, I just don't care anymore. My Princess Chicken tasted bland. I ate more than I would have to compensate for the tastelessness. However, I did find myself wanting another fortune cookie, the coconutty taste lingering in my mouth for longer than usual. But then it was over, and we went back to the office, and I spent the rest of the afternoon obsessing about how to implement GTD at my new job. I'm hoping it's going to change my life, like BFL did.

God, all these acronyms, it's like I'm back in the Army.


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