Creme Fresh

Sleepless invited me to join her and a friend for lunch and I, of course, obliged. Being that Sleepless is evolving, her friend, Progressive, was ordering different whites (wine, that is) to wet her pallet. As we were enjoying the meal, my age became a topic of conversation. I truly do not care about age. So much so that it is something I rarely think about and often actually have to think about when people inquire. “So, when did you graduate high school? ’83?” Progressive asked. “’83? Really?” I retorted. That’s Not Chinese would be so happy right now. Withing seconds, Progressive  became regressive. He is just like a camera, although instead of adding pounds, he adds years.

A meal isn’t complete without dessert, so Sleepless and I opted to share the molten chocolate cake. When it arrived at the table the plate was garnished with mint leaves, raspberries, caramel sauce, and whipping cream. “Look at that,” said Progressive, “they even gave you creme fresh.” “Creme fresh?” Sleepless echoed while laughing. “Yes,” I added. “Creme fresh. What is that?” “I speak European,” Progressive informed us, “It’s a combination of English and…..other languages. European.”

We decided to compliment our creme fresh with mexican hot chocolate and coffee. Prior to leaving to start our hot beverages, the server posed a clarifying question to Sleepless, “Do you want alcohol in your coffee?” “Yes. Absolutely!” Sleepless answered without hesitation. “That’s what I thought,” the server quipped.

As Sleepless and I were enjoying our hot beverages, Progressive requested the check and proceeded to take care of it, sans us. “That is something we do not need,” Sleepless informed him and continued, “We’re sugar selves.” Without hesitation I added, “But thank you for lunch.” After the math I had to do to figure out that ’83 was not my graduation year, lunch was the least Progressive could do. He was wise to this and opted to head out before us. “Sorry to give you the shaft,” he said, “but I’ve got to get going.” “I don’t mind the shaft. Do you?” I responded and asked Sleepless. “Not at all,” Sleepless replied. “I swallow the shaft – have since ’83. Or was it ’69? I can’t remember.”

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