Tonight, a few stories pertaining to (but not actually about) Marcus. They were just too good to pass-up.
Last night post-Sneak Peek, we dropped by Las Teresitas for the odd-taco. Because we were near, and because Marcus was in the mood for a Proper dinner.
If you can really call this Proper.
On my plate: Barbacoa, Chorizo, Asado.
And a whole unholy host of salsas from their complimentary salsa bar.
When I say “unholy” I mean we were confronted with ~10 salsa choices in addition to the regular fixins like limes, radishes, onions, jalapenos and the like.
While I was getting busy at the bar, a fellow patron approached me and expressed something I can only compare to overjoyed excitement at the fact that my husband’s name was Marcus and his name was…Mark.
What are the odds.
I humored him as I scooped out red, green and orange salsas into tiny dipping cups and tried to carry them two in a hand to our table.
Apparently this Mark felt a sense of kinship and oneness with Marcus that went far deeper that our conversation (nevermind the fact that he never actually said a word to Marcus who was sitting at least 15 feet away) because before he departed, he produced this for Marcus.
Just in-case Marcus wanted to compare notes on dive-y taco places.
Figure that one out.
See also: About three weeks ago, I did a bit of decorating in my cube.
I was in the process of actioning a de-clutter and decided that after three years at my current employer, it was finally time to bite the bullet and bring in some Personal Effects.
So, you know, the odd co-worker has been dropping by to take a look and to force me into a recitation of where each photo was taken.
All I can ever think to respond with is how on earth did we manage to take so many blue/green-hued pictures?! I suppose that’s just part and parcel of what you get when you’re in the Mediterranean.
Except for one co-worker, who after incorrectly guessing Cinque Terre for Santorini (they are NOT the same) zeroed in on this snap.
Yes, I could have posted the original, but that would have ruined the effect.
He proceeded to inquire as to whether or not Marcus was an amputee. Because you know, you can only really see the one leg.
What the what?
I was so shocked by the presentation of the question that I was torn between speechlessness and mild horror. I think that my face said as much.
Like I’m so fond of saying: Hear Hoofbeats, Think Horses.
Marcus ≠ amputee.
But maybe I’m just missing something in that snap that everyone else is seeing.
What’s the most bizarre encounter you’ve had with a stranger?