Ah yes, after the wine wore off I remembered the name. Temple Bar was a delightful little slice of heaven in the middle of my crazy stress week. Even though I had to use my somewhat limited lip reading skills to hear my friend talking to me less than a foot away, the cozy and vivacious atmosphere was an excellent way to enjoy a Thursday evening that would yield little else besides clouds and rain. The waitresses were present but not hovering or pushy. The atmosphere was "nice" but not fancy schmancy. The tables were your odd assortment of thrift store finds, side of the road after college kids move out finds, and hand me down finds. This was fine until I realized that my chair had a small connecter supporting the back to the seat (a little L bracket) that was digging into my plump left buttock mid meal! This aside, I was able to relax and scoot a bit to the right to releave my buttock...I think I'll find another chair next time. The wine, a Cab-Sauvignon was quite delicious. Thanks to my friends that allowed me the pleasure of picking the wine. I tend to be a bit picky when it comes to reds.
When I arrived, taking in the high ceilings and scanning the decor, I briefly talked to a man on the stool to the right of me (before being placed at the table we were at the bar) about wine etiquette. He was articulate, polite and thanked me for asking him (he said he was flattered that I'd ask him). My question was this: Is it okay to send back a glass or bottle of wine if they pour some for you and you truly don't like it? I've always felt the pressure to say, "great, I'll take a glass." He explained that if people generally have manners they will offer another wine and then after about 2 you need to make a choice, in all fairness, to the waitress.
It felt like I was living my life in slow motion enjoying belly aching laughs, silly funny secrets about our husbands, and honest questions about life. Our smiles were gently lit by the tea light flicking on the worn table and my buttock no longer bothered me as I relaxed and enjoyed myself. Why do I feel guilty indulging? With no visible fork when the meal arrived, my friend said how fun it would be to eat my salad with my fingers. What a great idea! The wine had relaxed me as I peeled off a jacket and now a sweater, and I felt myself. A "myself" I haven't been in awhile. The stress of the week melted away and was replaced with a happy feeling of having such beautiful souls to share my evening with. Their sweetness and agreeable laughs were a wonderful backdrop for an enjoyable evening.
So, what is the moral of all this ranting? Who really knows, except that I need my friends. I love my husband and he is my best friend and love above all else. But without friends, life can be very stressful and dull. Something about letting go and being yourself, letting people see another side of you than your everyday business side, is very unguarding, and in the end liberating and necessary.