Tradition
It’s a lovely thing. It’s a way to bind people together (and not in that “I can’t breathe kind of way”), a way to identify each other, a way to mark time.
In my life there are plenty. Cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Posole at New Year’s. Ham at Easter.
Noticing a theme here? My traditions do tend to revolve around food.
Fair enough.
When I was living in Albuquerque and working at Sandia Labs, the Friday tradition was happy hour at Gardunos over by Winrock Mall.
Delicious margaritas, happy hour tasties, and Mariachi as a way to end the week. That can’t be bad.
Today I’m enjoying a Bay Area tradition. Observed by most restaurants in the area and also by the cafeteria where I work.
Clam chowder.
: slurp slurp :
Oh yeah, baby. I know it’s Friday when there is a steaming pot of chow-dah at the Cafeteria. As far as I know, it’s homemade on site. This week’s batch isn’t as tasty as last week, but that’s ok. It’s still all kinds of yum on a cold rainy day.
The engineers will line up in droves, often the only time all week they toddle out of their black hole labs to see the light of day. I get in line with my unwashed brothas to savor the aroma.
Lop off a slice of sourdough, and that’s a little bit of heaven right there on a plastic tray.
So, ya’ll entertain yourselves, I’m enjoying a tradition over heah.
Happy Friday to all.
