Excuse Me, Counselor, But Is That a Cookie Monster Band-Aid?

Damn, you say, what the hell does THAT title mean?

Well. I am a bit punchy so I will tell you, by George.

My roommate found out today that she passed the bar. When I came back from dinner she was very nearly SAILING around the apartment, calling friends, giggling, screaming with others on the phone like a fan at a sporting event. After much primping and preening, she went out to get smashed and bring friends home, I'm sure...

(No lawyer jokes. I know you want to, but NO. Behave.)

So anyway, she leaves and I finish up my pages (kept up this week, so I have my own celebration), write a letter to my aunt, and then run a bath. (Tough day today--our sewer at work backed up into our breakroom and I was the lucky one who got to pull up carpet squares.) When I reached into the cabinet to get my bath stuff there on her shelf was a fresh box of Cookie Monster Band-Aids.

See? Lawyers are people too...

:)

******

FG is making his way to Stockton and Modesto tonight and tomorrow, but we had a great and light conversation on his way home. (They let me go home early from work...I wonder if it was my smell...ahahahahaha...) Then I took my laundry down and bundled up to go down to 9th and see what wasn't crowded for supper. Okay, DINNER. Sue me for being from the Midwest. I finally stopped at the Indian restaurant next to Bistro 9, and ordered a simple meal: naan, rice, and lamb palak. I dipped the naan in the fragrant spinach and savored the lamb pieces with rice. Twilight had passed and Le Video across the street was lit up warm, offering anniversary incentives to rent during the days of Netflix. I sipped my iced tea and stirred the lemon around with the straw. A large and handsome man, too large and too strong to live in the City (had to have been born and raised closer to San Jose--they don't get enough light to get that large here) came in and sat at the table next to me and ordered strangely shaped food. I smiled at him through the glass before he came in, but he did not speak to me. I walked out full and happy just the same.

I walked back up 9th and spotted an aquamarine scarf, soft, in the window of a boutique. I have six scarves at home, but had forgotten them there on this cold night. The mist wrapped close and I moved closer to the glass. I walked in, just to feel it with my fingers. It was on sale, $15 dollars, thick and warm. I bought it and wrapped it close in a doubling around my neck. I jumped back into the night, walking briskly in the mist, past a woman in an SUV with her toddler son blasting Shania Twain. I smiled at her. Up through the mist, families all talking to each other and wrapped up, lights frosted in moisture. I turned left at Irving and picked up a slice of raspberry chocolate cake at Tart to Tart and took it home to sweeten my mouth with later. My scarf brightened my eyes and my step. I walked up 7th, driving my legs and feet and quads up 7th, greeting lights and snuggling down deep in aquamarine and feeling my ear lobes warm up.

Robin talked about a walk tonight.

I wish I could do analytical and solve F, L, and C in a way that would help others.

But I can't and the only thing that comes from me is run-on lyrics. So write the walk in the 'net, Robin, and I'll complement with wrapping myself in mismatched clothes and feeling my body brace in the mist.

Selah and sleep well, dear reader. Let me know if you need any Band-Aids for booboos.