the call of a slower pace


Yesterday, I was out running errands, when I suddenly realized it was lunch time.  I could've gone home for lunch, but since I was out, I decided to do one of my solo business lunches.  There is a little restaurant near my house that Marcus and I used to love to visit, but we hadn't been in about a year or so.  I thought it was time to check it out again.

When I got there, I discovered that they no longer served the food Marcus and I had grown accustomed to,, but instead had transformed into (yet another) Mexican restaurant.  I have nothing against Mexican food, of course, but trust me when I tell you that Texas doesn't have any lack of really good Mexican restaurants.  I was hoping for something different.  But, I was there, I was hungry, and so I went in.

The restaurant was really quiet and calm -- only a few people inside -- and Latin music was playing softly in the background.  The waitress seated me near the window overlooking a pretty patio, brought me the menu and an icy cold beverage.  

And instantly I became homesick for Trinidad.

I think it's because in Trinidad, I was more likely to walk into a restaurant to meet a friend, or go out with Marcus in the middle of the day on the weekends, and the restaurants were quiet and calm.  Nothing fancy, you understand -- in fact, often open-air.  With maybe some calypso or soca playing in the background.  And a view -- of the ocean or a garden, perhaps.  

And it could be just the sepia-toning that happens with memories, but it just seems like I was slower in Trinidad.  Here, I feel like I'm going at break-neck speed all the time.  There  ... I was slower.

I finished my lunch and left.  For the record, it was delicious.

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I'm not a big spa person -- I've had manicures, pedicures and massages only a few times in my life -- but wouldn't it be great if, when you're having a really busy week, there was a place you could just go to hang out and chill for the day?  Not a place with beauty technicians or anything like that --  just a place with overstuffed couches, great books, music, a good view, and someone to bring you healthy food when you were hungry.  Cell phones, computers and television would be prohibited.  Maybe there would be someone to just listen to you, if you wanted to talk, and their job would be to make encouraging noises, and give only really insightful advice, but only if you ask.  Or you could nap all day there, if you wanted to, without interruption.  Then, at the end of the day, you go home, back to your life, renewed and refreshed.  

That would be awesome.

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Tomorrow, I leave for Miami for the Mom 2.0 Summit.  Even though I already know that I have a lot on my schedule once I'm there, I'm hoping to schedule a little down time, too.  

I'm thinking the sand, ocean and coconut trees will bring back more restorative thoughts of Trinidad.

(If you're going to the Mom 2.0 Summit, please tap me on the shoulder and say hi.  Perhaps we can just hang out and chill together.)

Song:  Even after all by Finley Quaye