Here Comes the Sun

I just ran an Avon ad in the Journal of the San Juan’s. It has the wrong telephone listing. My apologies to whomever is getting the calls I very much wanted. I am not terribly pleased with the person who called to confirm the ad and promised to fix my typo, but I can’t very well complain about her when she couldn’t have made the mistake if I hadn’t typo-ed in the first place.

However, It is a beautiful day. The sun is out. The birds are singing. Sitting here pouting won’t change things. My camera and I are going out for a jaunt. After our jaunt we’ll be picking Amoeba up at work. After dinner I’ll deliver him to the playhouse for the opening night of My Fair Lady, then I will return home and spend the evening here online with all of you.

I have pictures from last night’s dress rehearsal and an Amoeba story to entertain you with. Stay tuned! See you then!

Starbucks Coffee

I order. “Mocha Frappacino, venti, please. Yes, put all the unhealthy stuff on it. Oh, and I’d like a banana muffin, too!”

I casually extend my arm from the window with the Starbuck’s card held jauntily between my fingers. The kid at the window makes a grab for the card, misses it and the thing goes flying out of my hand and under my car.

UNDER MY CAR.

I am dressed up: skirt, blouse, high-heels, and my hair is just so.

I open my car door and look down. No card.

I step out of the car and kneel down. Still I cannot see the card. Of course the heel of my shoe has caught on the hem of my skirt. I lose my balance and topple into the car, leaving a clean spot on the driver’s door.

Luckily most of the grime has landed on my hands and my arms which — thank you, God — are wash and wear. I step back into my car, put it in gear and backup about 12 inches. I might have backed up another two or three inches, but the fellow in the bright red SUV behind me was honking his horn and yelling, “Stop! Stop!” I am not sure why. There were still three or four inches between our bumpers. Maybe he thought I didn’t see him?

Anyway, I get out of my car again and there is my Starbuck’s card, just peeking from beneath the edge of my front bumper. I grab the card and turn to present it to the kid behind the drive-thru window. He says, “Keep it, Lady. This is on me.”

Darn, I think as I’m driving away. I should have ordered two muffins.