Wednesday morning the first thing I had to go to a lab and have blood drawn so my cardiologist can have my blood statistics before him when I have my appointment next month. I had to fast. I had not had anything since about 6:30 the previous evening.
I was at the lab door when they opened at 8:00. Several of us flowed into the waiting room as soon as the door was opened. In the waiting room it was interesting to just see where people chose to sit – or by whom.
A very sharply dressed business man with well groomed hair looked out of place wherever he sat – luckily, he was the first one called in. I chose my chair, not to be by anybody, but sort of in a corner to keep my eyes on everybody plus the receptionist.
Two women sat by each other who apparently was either friends or mother and daughter. They had a quiet running conversation going. A man with overalls, no shirt, the upper part of his chest and arms were covered with hundreds of tattoos and they all looked like they were made by an amateur sat near the women and just stared at them and tried to hear every word they were whispering. He had a long pig tail in back. He wasn’t young – I think he was probably in his late 40s or early 50s. I also think he was an ex-jailbird. He was amazed by women who dressed nice. I wonder if the was there for a drug test.
Whatever he was there for, I think he thought he was invisible because he was practically in the two ladies faces trying to take in every word they said and they didn’t seem to notice him at all – I think he was right.
I was the second one called and the technician who drew my blood wasn’t very friendly. She had on a red shirt with many UGA Bulldawgs all over it. I asked her if the liked UGA. She said she liked the shirt. With a big period. Ok, she doesn’t get paid to socialize and say “what about them Dawgs” – she gets paid to draw blood, which she did nicely, - not to suck ass. She just slapped a band aid on. – My bleeding wasn’t her problem. It fell off before I got to the car.
When I came out of the lab back in the waiting room the two women were still chatting and the little man eaten-up with tattoos was still silently leaning forward, not letting it be a secret that he was trying to comprehend every word that was said… in a innocent way, of course. Evidently, I can see invisible people. I should have given him the “high five” as a courtesy.
I was hungry. I have been planning this moment for over a day. To go some place to have a really nice southern breakfast…. And I was still trying to make up my mind. Martins? No, they were too far away. Then I remember on Canton Highway I noticed a sign at Texas Rib-Ranch advertising breakfast. That should be interesting, I thought.
I went to The Texas Rib Ranch. I have been there a bunch of times for their delicious barbecue and ribs – everything is decorated with a Texas accent. They have Texas auto plates nailed up, antique looking stuff around, pictures of cowboy movie stars, branding irons, and a giant thick rattle snake arboring the top of a door frame.
It was 8:35 when I pulled into the parking lot. There were only two vehicles in the customer parking area, a Cobb County Police Car and a truck with ladders and working equipment in the back.
I went in and the reason there were only two vehicles in the parking lot (now three) is that in the big restaurant were only two customers (now 3). A Cobb County Policeman was eating at a booth and three booths away was a man in work clothes with his breakfast. They were talking to each other, across the empty booths. Before I got there they found out it is small world and they knew some of the same people. The cop grew up around Mitchell Road, Johnson Ferry Road, and Oak Lane and the builder has built subdivisions all around that area – they were dropping names at each other of large property owners of the area and lakes and all. I found it interesting and one time when one of them was trying to think of the name of a road he was describing and neither one of them could think of it I threw my 2¢ in and said, “Holly Springs Road!” They agreed. I think each thought the other one had said it.
The breakfast was two fried over light eggs, grits, big pieces of bacon, a heap of biscuits, and a cat-head size homemade biscuit. I enjoyed it – but I found myself in a dilemma. One of my thick slices of bacon fell off my plate onto the table. I think it came with three huge thick bacon strips. I don’t think you could buy big slabs of bacon like that packaged a t the meat counter of a grocery store … well, they are also a barbecue place that slices up whole pigs… so, maybe that is why they opened up for breakfast – so they would have something to do with the bacon from the pig. Now, if they could just figure out what to do with the “oink”.
I debated should I eat it or not. How well did the waitress clean the table? Boy, that bacon looked good. But, many elbows have touched that table, but probably sneezes, kid’s snot, slobber, and I also remembered an article on TV about women’s pocketbooks, they are put down anyplace, floors, bathroom floors, eatery tables, and all the pocketbooks they looked at under the microscope were well marinated in feces and germs of all kinds – I backed down.
The contractor and cop left. The waitress came by and said it looked like it was going to rain earlier, now it was sun shining – which would be good for her pasture.
Pasture? Not only do they have Texas décor and a Texas menu, the staff talk about their pastures. How authentic can you get?
As you can tell, I don’t get out often.
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