Lorelai: I’ll have the cheese omelet, extra cheddar, no jack, sourdough toast, two bacons, two sausages. You’re not writing this down.

Brennan: Don’t need to. Continue.

Lorelai: Two bacons, two sausages, one pancake. I would really like you to write this down.

Brennan: Trust me, it’s all stored. What would you like?

Rory: Rye toast.

Brennan: You want that toasted?

Rory: Sure, why not?

Brennan: Got it.

Lorelai: Rye toast?

Rory: My odds are way better than yours.

I had a surreal experience when I walked into a dinner and realized that the waitress wasn’t writing down orders. She seemed to be remembering everything, kind of smugly like she was too good for paper or something. Chaos ensued.

I asked for water to drink. She brought me a basket of fries. I started eating the fries, because they are made out of fries, when I realized that they were probably supposed to go to another table. Too late. I considered dumbing down my order to just rye toast but it was lunch time. I was so hungry that I ordered something like “Whatever you think I ordered. I’ll basically take any plate that you bring out.” This girl seriously brought a plate out into the dining area and shouted across the whole space “Who had the ribs?” Hello Brennan, nice to meet you.

It probably says a lot about my exercise habits that I have no clue about the relationship between bikers and runners. By runners I mean girl who walks at a leisurely pace while eating twizzlers to keep her energy up. It was my first experience walking running on a shared trail.

Everything was going fine until the bikers descended on me like a plague of locust on wheels. Every one would yell at me as they passed. I made sure that I was on the right side and wasn’t obstructing their path. I thought for a second that they wanted twizzlers. Then I realized that they were alerting their fellow bikers of my presence. At first this felt powerful until I realized apparently these people zooming on wheels can’t be trusted to watch where they are going. As Luke says:

Biker: Big hole!

Luke: What the hell is wrong with them? Why can’t they just let the bozo in back of them figure out for himself there’s a big hole there?

I was ecstatic to see that my town was implementing a free movie night. I envisioned sitting in a town square crying with a bunch of strangers over Casablanca. (We do not have a town square but maybe they’d build one for movie night.) As I looked through the movie list I had a very Lorelei moment. Every movie was a documentary about rock climbing. Documentary is too exciting of a word. I can only assume that they are working from Taylor Doose’s approved movie list. One of the description on Gilmore Girls was

Arctic Flight: man with plane flies charter to Alaska, hired by bear hunter who turns out to be Russian spy. Love story develops with pilot and school teachers. Eskimos do tribal dance.

That movie looks amazing compared to the “Man with camera walks a long ways wearing a backpack” films they are showing in my town.

I yearn for the Yearling.

I recently had an altercation. Yes, that is vague. No, it’s not the kind of altercation where I end up in jail or kick people. It’s more the kind of altercation where the other person doesn’t know we just had a fight. I kept going over the conversation in my head. Was I charming? Check. Was I polite? Check. Was I right? Check. I would at least like the satisfaction of being able to do something wrong if I’m going to upset someone.

My very brief interaction with this person was frustrating to me simply because I couldn’t figure it out. I kept coming up with the fact that he was French. I hate stereotyping people. I wasn’t one of those people who were calling French fries freedom fries a few years ago. I had what Oprah called an Aha! moment. I had just met my Michel. Now I look forward to our snippy passing conversations. I’ve always wanted to live in Stars Hollow and I just got that much closer. Which Gilmore characters have you met lately?