Snap shot

I know. I'm not really on top of this writing thing. Let's not talk about it.

On Saturday I put on a hat and drank a mint julep from a silver cup (provided by my father, incidentally, who has won many such cups in a race. I'll bet the other winners of these cups don't drink juleps from them, which seems a pity) at my cousin's Derby party. She has a view of Mt. Tam and a pocket-sized bit of bay with sailboats. You'd like it. In fact, if you want to prove that you like it, you can vote for her in Apartment Therapy's Small, Cool Contest. She's in the teeny-tiny division. Let's make her the big winner, shall we? [At this very moment she is well ahead in the polls, which is exciting.]

Upon leaving her civilized gathering, I went to the car wash. It's a thing where you drive through, but there are also guys in there with rags and sponges and the like. They have this little platform that the guys can climb up on to reach the roof of your car. This means that, if the guy is short (and they all seem to be), when he is on the platform his crotch is framed in my window. That's how I happen to know that the guy washing my roof found it to be more stimulating work than I might have imagined.

I then drove home across the Golden Gate Bridge where, upon passing the north tower, I saw a bicyclist down flat on the ground surrounded by worried compatriots to my right and a would-be jumper clinging to the rail and in conversation with police to my left.

I don't really have a point except: huh. Bourbon in a garden, hard-on in a car wash, physical peril on a bridge. There's a lot going on out there.

The plane! The plane!

I have received an email asking me to order "three chicken sandwiches with everything and one roast beef, plane." Because I am a snob and because being constantly in charge of lunch orders already fills me with fury, being asked to order a "plane" sandwich brings all that simmering indignation to a boil . I'm willing to cut some typo slack on "your" and "you're" or "their" and "they're", but I am seriously drawing the line on "plane" and "plain." You have been warned.

Speaking of planes...I was in LA last week for work. I don't know why anyone would ever, every carry a laptop by choice and one wheel of my suitcase fell off somewhere between the Burbank airport and SFO, but generally it was okay. Flying out of Burbank, which seems like a Fisher-Price airport, was particularly pleasant. I was the only person going through security, so I took my time putting my things into three separate bins (again: laptop=a pain in my arse/right shoulder). During this leisurely belt and shoe removal period, the security man surveyed my driver's license. He asked me if I go by my first name or my middle name. Then he asked me if my mother called me by my whole name when I was in trouble. Then he said:

"How long have you lived up north?"
"All my life."
"Really? Do you ever go downtown?"
"Um...yes?"
"Do you ever walk around while you're reading a book?"
"Um...........sometimes."
"Yeah!" he said excitedly. "I was up there once and downtown I these people just walking while they were reading books. [pause as he sees this magnificent sight in his mind's eye.] I just think people are more intelligent up there than down here."


So, kudos, San Francisco. Nice work on the literary pursuits. Just please remember to look both ways when you get to the corner.

Vocabulary

Dear Office Workers,

If you mean email, then just say "email."
There's really no need to use "ping" as a verb.
Thank you for your attention.

Cordially,
Kari

Frabjous day

Is there anything more beautiful to read than this?

"We have reviewed your claim and found it to be valid. Therefore, the citation has been dismissed."

I just did a little victory dance around the living room.

Goodbye, $80 parking ticket; hello, justice.

Eeek

The school where I work is next to a daycare center. This morning as I passed, the children were outside playing in their yard. Two very little girls and a handsome twenty-something man were gathered at the bottom of the slide examining something halfway up.

The man turned hopefully toward one of his colleagues, a middle aged woman, and said, "We're afraid of bugs. Can you get this off the slide?"