Jane and I met at Crave, as we have been lately, where I got a MOST delicious veg sandwich.
A fabulous sammich. A fab sam. As I told Jane, time was I would have said, “Cold, raw vegetables? I don’t think so!” But now I love a good cold, fresh veg sandwich. This one had lettuce, avocado, red bell pepper, cucumbers and Benedictine (cucumbers and cream cheese). Also had onion, but I pulled that off. Bleh. I should have had whole wheat bread, but I had sourdough. As Snoopy says, life is just too short not to live it up a little.
Across the street at the Java Brewing Company, where we retired for afters, we saw another gentleman (I did not photograph his art, alas) who was also fabulously bedecked. Among other artwork, one arm was inscribed with a poem in Turkish, which had been written by his Turkish wife. He was kind enough to answer my questions about how his tattooing was done (an electric needle machine that pierces the skin very quickly and repetitively and injects the ink into the epidermis). He said the range of colors of ink is, theoretically, infinite. He said that sometimes it hurts (the one he had done on his rib hurt a lot), sometimes it bleeds. He said it scabs over and, once the scabs heal and fall off, there’s your tattoo.
Jane got coffee, as usual, but I thought something cold sounded good, so I got vanilla cream soda. Guess what? It has CREAM in it! Java’s cream soda is cream, soda water, and flavoring. Oh my dear lord IT WAS GOOOOOD! If you’ve never tried this, I do most highly recommend it. Same thing as an egg cream, which is cream or milk and soda water. I have a new favorite drink at Java–AND they still punch your frequent buyer card, even though it isn’t coffee. Can’t beat that.
Jane has had to buy a new (used) car, a KIA, of which she is understandably proud. It’s a gorgeous little chariot, good as new. Here is the proud owner.
After the deluge of yesterday, today was beautiful. Perfect temperature, not too muggy, and the sun even came out. We had no damage, ourselves, and there was no damage in the area where Jane lives or in the area of Frankfort Avenue where we met.
Oh–the coolest thing–Charlie and I met some friends for breakfast, and a cousin of Charlie’s was at the next table with her husband and a couple of friends. We got to talking to one of the friends. He was a big, hefty Bubba of a man, with a sport cap and dirty jeans, who started by telling us he was working on Bill’s driveway. As we talked, we found out he is also a Professor of Developmental Psychology at Vincennes University. I do so love it when people defy, outrage and otherwise stoogify stereotypes.
writing prompt: Talk to someone you think you have pigeonholed. Talk long enough to tell if he/she does or does not fit the pigeonhole you had picked out and furnished. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Write a character who doesn’t fit his/her apparant stereotype.