The New Job and Good Byes

My new boss is this Italian chick whose name is Lucia, but she prefers to be called Looch. It suits shouting back and forth better. Last Wednesday after a day "working" at the beach, I shlepped into her shack/hovel/office and she said, "Okay Dax. You gotta do something about the trippa".

This is where speaking a hodgepodge of seventeen different languages comes in useful. Sure, I go to Hebrew school for six years but never have I had to use more Hebrew than any goy already could. Street Italian, you can't go to school for that but this I know. Without missing a beat, I pinched my obliques and asked, "This? What's not to like?"

"I'm just sayin', you're promoting a product man, and you're starting to look a little Pillsbury".

Message understood, so I hit the weights and started doing more crunches in the morning. I used that old boxers' trick and toyed with the idea of doing that thing that Chisato does after every meal. I even joined a running group. Pretty informal. Saturday morning meet at the community centre, stretch out and go for a run. Jogging on shabbat? Yes dad, it's not against the Torah per se. Well, I got about three miles into the run, and my right side hip flexors decided to remind me why I stopped running in the first place. I sucked it up and finished the run ahead of everyone else of course. Later that afternoon, my left knee decided to give. Better late than never. So today my legs are a little sore which I can understand. But my elbow? How the hell did that happen? Must have been on Thursday when Ali and I met her mum and sister at Grand Central and then Ali volunteered me to shlep her mother's bags to the hotel. "Oh, and don't forget Chisato's luggage either!"

I don't think I'll be able to make the running group next week - let alone the dancing lessons. Damn you Richard Gere. So last night, barely able to move, I met up with Ali and her family for a farewell dinner. Just like that, they're gone. It was quite a quick visit. Of course, it sucked in the beginning because Alison introduced me to her mum as "my jobless boyfriend", which technically was true because I hadn't told Ali about the t-shirt job yet. They said they wanted Italian for dinner so we went to Zefferelli's and I tried to be on my best behaviour. Like I said, I don't speak Japanese, so I said something half English, half Japanese which, because of Ali's mum's name sounded like I was calling her a fish. I don't know what the fuss was about, I mean she did order sparkling with dinner. Her mum was startled and I saw her hand quickly raise up toward my face at which point Ali sorta jumped between us and said something. Before I knew what was going on, all three ladies were laughing so hard they had to wipe the tears away. I couldn't have planned that icebreaker better if I tried.

Only weeks before, Chisato blew my mind with a bit of an ice breaker of her own. She was thumbing through a sport fishing magazine and said something about fishing lures. I pointed to a picture of trident fish hooks and said, "I like (these) fish hooks". She asked, "Where?" and then laughed her ass off. Eventually, I got it but I haven't been able to look at her the same way since.

I made myself scarce during this visit - partly because I'm a little afraid of Chisato and partly because I want to give Ali maximum time with her mum - only joining for two dinners and carrying luggage from the train station. Last night I showed up at the jewelry shop and Ali looked at me with a look of horror on her face. "You didn't shave!"

"Actually, I did *wink*!"

"Kitanai! Eeeee!" We shlepped around looking for a restaurant only because Chisato had taken her time buying jewelry and the Singaporean restaurant was closing. We decided on Indian. Aware of, but seemingly indifferent to my pain Ali told me to walk faster, "Suck it up, beach boy!" We ended up settling on Persian food only because the place billed itself as "Better than Greek" and it was closer than the Indian place. Well, Chisato was not happy with her food and I don't blame her. I kinda expected as much when Ali's mum said, "Only Japanese rice is any good." Turns out she speaks pretty decent English. We decided to cut our losses and skip dessert. We crossed the street and had gelato instead. We said our good byes, and amid vague promises of seeing them again in December, I limped off into the darkness cursing every step and praying for an Advil at the same time. So if this job doesn't kill me first, I'll be back at the beach tomorrow slightly trimmer, slightly buffer and slightly darker.