a quick note from Shelb’s office

So, here I am stuffing packets for the liquor convention. Free labor. Eh, I figure it is the least I can do for all the free liquor I plan on drinking profusely in the next few days. And, it is nice and quiet here in the lobby office. Her boss is out of town. We have Elton John on the CD player. She is giving me some free Internet time to check e-mail and talk to you people. It is all good.

And, speaking of good, the drive here was marvelous. I had forgotten just how much I missed my little purple truck, Frenchie. And, while I was gone, my stepfather gave Frenchie a tune-up. Plus, I got her new tires on Monday. She is running like a champ, which isn’t too damn bad for a ‘97 Ford Ranger with nearly 100,000 miles, no?

Dear Buddha, the drive up here made me so happy. Windows down. Brisk Oct. wind flipping in and blowing my hair into my mouth every five minutes (but that is OK; I rather got off on that). Flat, golden fields stretched out in every direction and the sky had those amazing clouds—the ones that Bob Ross painted on his happy landscapes, the ones that they reproduce in mass for children’s room wallpaper. I had The Donnas “Stay the Night” turned up so loud I had to scream to sing along. There was a Dr. Pepper in the cupholder and only a few semis in sight. Road stretched up and out and flat like an invitation. I drove too damn fast for hours on end, and it was perhaps a nearly orgasmic experience. Literally, it brought tears to my eyes. I wiped them on the sleeve of my denim jacket rather quickly so no one at the Phillips 66 noticed. But, damn it was delicious.

And, here is another little delicious story for you. I took my mom along to get tires put on the car. Dad had called in the day before to have them ready to go. He knows the owner. So, the owner comes in to talk to us and ask where “the boss” is. My mother says, “Oh, he had to work today.” So, the owner nods, looks and me and says, “Oh, is this your granddaughter?”

I thought my mother would keel over right there. She said, “This is our youngest daughter.” But, she said it rather abruptly. So, the owner made a rather hasty exit.

I tried to soothe her afterward by saying I look a lot younger than I am, but it still didn’t make her too happy. Personally, I was hella flattered—especially since I think my mother looks rather young for her age, too. But, mom is still smoldering. It doesn’t help that my stepfather has been teasing her about it for days now.