My Love, My Lid & My lunch
Finding hats that fit over my noggin has always been a problem for me. My head is big as hell, yo. There’s a couple of websites that sell 2x hats, but mostly offer only old-old man hats, when I’m only looking for old man hats. I also have an issue with not wanting to advertise brands by wearing shit with their logos emblazoned obnoxiously on them, so that rules out at least 98% of all ballcaps on the planet. I should be paid for that, not the other way around. Just because I’m pretty much the size of a billboard, doesn’t mean I should be one for corporations I pay to buy things from.
The other week, I found a hat that had a longhorn bull shape made up of other little tribal-like shapes on the front and some Spanish verbage on the back over the expander thing-a-ma-bob. At first I thought it was a Texas U design in tribal and earth tones, but the Spanish text made me revise my thesis to a South of the Border brand of some sort. I didn’t recognize it as pimping anyone’s crap domestically, I kind of liked it (knew Diana would too, more on that in a sec) and it fit my head reasonably well, so I bought it.
My wife is a first generation American. Her family raised her steeped in their culture, fed her their foods, taught her their language, etc… American popular culture is almost as exotic to her as hers is to me… it was a forbidden fruit growing up. Having been raised in NYC, no aspect of this culture is more exotic than redneck country. This is not my scene, but I’m a big honkey mofo with a big beard and the like, I can slip into that look with a slight wardrobe adjustment, which I know tends to set her little panties aflutter. So, rather than bare my needs-to-be-shaven extremely balding head, I threw the Mexican Longhorn trucker cap on when we went out to lunch this past Saturday. It does compliment my face and I could see her checking me out like married women seldom check out their husbands the entire time I had it on. The extra eye-balling felt good, but also made me a bit more self conscious of my unfortunate male-pattern baldness.
We hopped in the car and headed to downtown Delray Beach to find something to eat after a quick visit to Hands Stationers to pick up a few more “Moleskine” sketchbooks (Actually “Hand•Book Journal Co” brand, but moleskine is the popularized, Xerox-ish brand of this sketch/note-book type, and it’s quicker and easier to just say “Moleskine” than the preceding. Shame, because Hand•book has a nicer quality of paper to their books and I don’t give a shit who drew in Moleskine’s 100 years ago, they are superior… unfortunately not in brand recognition.) so I can create more drawings to share with you hear and to jot down ideas on the go. I highly recommend them if you are even the least bit creatively inclined… it will make you more so and you will lose less ideas.
As I began walking from the car to Hands, a funny-looking Latino guy with long hair blurted out “Hey, peace, man” as he walked by, signaling a peace sign with his own hands (repeating that word a lot, I swear they’re not paying me to, though free art supplies would be much appreciated, no pressure). My first thought was “He must be a Facebook friend of mine who reads my anti-war conspiracy-type rants that recognized me”, then I thought “Duh, has to be the hat branding that I’m unwittingly promoting”. I have yet to look into either, but will update in a comment if I figure it out. Probably I never will, though.
Anyway, Hands didn’t have the small reporter flip-style sketchbooks I’m used in stock, so I got a standard binding one and also a larger sized one (that will get much less street-sketching use, as it will only fit in pockets if I wear cargo shorts) and a few more Prismacolors to add to the collection. After, we decided to stroll down Atlantic Avenue to a French Cafe we had yet to try but heard great things about.
We knew by looking at the plates of the other guests that we had found our new favorite lunch spot. When our own sandwiches arrived, we were over-the-moon happy with them. Diana has had a thing for that rivals her thing for redneck chic since visiting Paris as a young girl, reignited again with me in our travels in France for her best friend’s fantasy Chateau wedding a couple of years back., little ol’ Cafe de France in Delray beach handily eclipsed those memories. I had a taste of every one she ordered overseas and of this one and agree that it was far and away better than those. I’m not writing a food review, so I won’t bore you with the rest of the details, but needless to say, this unassuming little fleur-de-lis covered former ice cream shop is the place to go for, among other things, a reasonably priced sandwich on an authentic baguette, french pastries & desserts and wonderfully presented espresso drinks. We fucking loved it. Home run, we plan on going back often, and trying every dish on the menu.
Also, the owner, an honest-to-goodness, just off-the-boat Frenchie chatted us up quite a bit more than I’d have figured on considering I’m a big goon wearing a Mexican trucker hat, an unruly months-long beard complete with 2 weeks of neck & wolf-man cheek hair and dirty fingernails… a lesser frenchman would have simply waved a white flag and retreated to the back office (Ouch, why did I go there… the Cheese-eating surrender-monkey myth was dispelled by the incredible hospitality we experienced in Paris and Burgundy). He must have responded to my “WTF is she doing with this asshole” & beaming with pregnant glow wife, as the place was not visibly hurting for business. She’s just a magnet for positivity squared with our little Bean inside of her. Love and kindness awaits her every turn, it’s wonderful to watch and be a part of.
In the moments before our lunch was brought to us, I decided it would be a good opportunity to sketch her, something I want to do more frequently while she is carrying, to document the experience. I also thought about the man who’d said “peace” to me earlier, how silly it is that I’m shy about my balding head and wondered if I could out-sexy “redneck me” by doing a brief stint as “talented artist me”. So, I gave her my hat to wear as she posed naturally for a quick study, exposing my noggin’, which didn’t bother me near as much as it usually does, and what resulted is posted above.
She is going to make such a great mom, obviously I have issues (less today than yesterday and less tomorrow than today, though), she looks past them to my core and helps pull me through them every chance she gets. I am so lucky to have her, she is beautiful (the drawing is pretty good, but doesn’t nearly pay proper tribute) and will be an amazing mom.
Je vous remercie de m’aimer, ma chère.
I sure hope Google translate got that line right.