|This is NOT Louis.|
My mother decided to take me out for drinks on Black Friday with our favorite bartender who now works at a place where drinks are so expensive, we plan our trips and look forward to it. It's one of those restaurants local doctors and hoity toity's brag about going to because they are so outrageously priced for the area (not that bad for New York City).
Anyway, the bartender, Louis, has been a favorite. Not only can he make the best martinis, ones I can actually drink without it being too sweet or too alcoholly, but he's like therapy. I call him my therapist. One who has no license and we do hug and kiss, so ethics is kind of out the window too on that. Really we do. I tell the husband. He's stuck with it. We don't make out. We just greet each other with a big hug and a good smack on the lips. People in Europe do that.
Last night, we get there, and Louis talked a lot about his real therapist. He has PTSD like I do. We've talked about it before, and this therapist is a good one. Actually, I've not gone to therapy for my PTSD because the therapeutic choice of all choices is to ask you a bunch of questions about the trauamatic incident making you relive it over and over again, and that made my PTSD worse, not better. I think I have PTSD from the therapy of my PTSD because seeing a shrink makes me all kinds of I want to throw up. This therapist, however, does not use that therapy. That, I would go to.
At some point in the conversation, Louis hands me 2 marbles from his pocket. He said that one marble is, "Everything is going to be ok," and the other marble is, "I'm going to be all right." Put them in your pocket and you'll be amazed how many times you reach in your pocket and can feel these marbles reminding yourself that everything is going to be ok and you are going to be all right.
Well, being female, I don't have a pocket most of the time, and if I do, well let's just say i frequently find 20 dollars I have no idea where it came from last year in a pocket... My purse is also a bad idea. It hoards pieces of chocolate and what nots that I wouldn't tell the difference between a gumball and a marble while fishing for that cell phone. But my wallet, now I go into that baby too many times a day. So, that's where I'm keeping my marbles. My wallet.
Now I don't think Louis is aware that I actually lost my marbles and went to the farm. That totally gives this an angelic God appeal to it, like the Lord, He works in mysterious ways. Louis followed his instinct and it was exactly what I needed when I needed it.
And to make it more special, the marbles were made by Louis's father. He made marbles for a living.
So this black friday, I'm thankful for marbles. I'm thankful for awesome bartenders too. I left that bar with a good buzz from a good martini (my mom was driving) and some replacement marbles. Now their prices don't seem that extreme afterall.