Code Orange Emotions

If I wrote down all that happened to me today, my head would explode. We'll leave it at discombobulated.

Aside from that, on my walk this morning, a guy smiled at me and asked, " Has anyone told you today what a fine-looking woman you are?"

I thanked him for being the first, especially considering the sheen I was sporting on a Code Orange day (pleading e-mail from my mother; "PLEASE don't walk today").

My parents came to town for lunch at Tarrant's and we were seated in the window table that used to seat the stuffed dolls.

I tried  a new salad, the tarragon chicken with apples, strawberries, grapes, tomatoes, cucumbers, candied walnuts, golden raisins and craisins in a  raspberry vinaigrette. It was the perfect lunch, full of water, on a miserably hot day.

One server asked if I remembered her from Acacia (I did) and another said she'd waited on me at Bobette; my parents inquired if I ever ate at home.

But they also wanted to discuss my absent love life, so there was a lot of ground we didn't cover. One hesitates to tread on TMI territory with the parental units.

My only plans for the evening involved  a close friend, her wedding plans and my recent unexpected cosmic gifts.

We began at Six Burner, where a man walked in and recognized me, saying, "It's my pinotage fan!"

What does it mean when I'm being remembered for my grape preferences? Fortunately, I think, he was a wine rep by trade.

Tonight's preference was the Broadbent Vino Verde because, as the bartender reminded  me, "That's some summer drinking." Indeed. And if isn't actually summer, it certainly feels like it.

We had an especially talkative evening, she telling me her three-month plan and me sharing my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants plan (there are some things I can only tell her).

 As long as we both end up happier, I figure it's just different routes to the same goal.

Because she'd not yet had softshells this season, we had to have the tempura fried soft shells with chunky guacamole and rainbow cherry tomatoes.

I've had any number of variations of this dish already this year and this was definitely the most creatively delicious.

I heard one girl order it minus the guac ("I don't like avocado," she whined to the bartender. Your loss, honey) and thought the same thing the chef probably did when he got the order.

The crispy tempura, the creamy guacamole and the colorful and fresh-tasting tomatoes came together for a standout variation on a theme.

When my friend finally had to leave, I chose to stay because the bartender had morphed into his musician persona so we could talk about his upcoming show, as well as the Nissan Pavilion's ignorance and the Arcade Fire's video brilliance.

At the end of the evening and much vino verde, he thanked me profusely for my company and indulging his musical nerdiness.

I didn't leave any less discombobulated, but I'd certainly benefited from the bubbles and the distractions.

Any random sighing heard tonight will likely  be coming from Jackson Ward.