I'm so over the craziness that was last week. Seriously. I can't even begin to discuss...
But one kind of awesome thing that happened was my trip to the Atheneum. It had been a while, so I thought I'd swing by to be amongst the art. I'm at my best amongst the art. Only the parking garage was full and that was a huge problem for me. I'm a perfectly fine driver- except for parking. And reverse. I know. But my strengths include courteous behavior, going straight, and spotting deer before they leap in front of my car. I'd call that a wash. Unfortunately, there are no deer in downtown Hartford so I wasn't operating from a position of strength and just sort of left when I couldn't figure out where to park. Sure, I thought about calling Mr. Blyleaf since he works nearby and could have told me what to do, but a) that would have been a totally lame helpless girl move and b) why do you even need b), given a).
On the way home, I swung by one of my Starbucks. The one with the drive through. Drive through situations are not my favorite. The inelegance depresses me. I have little tolerance for the view of the back of the building- always with a dumpster nearby, the exhaust of the car in font of me, etc. But I'm a good sport with a positive attitude, so I braved the less than favorable conditions and ordered a medium dulche de leche latte with skim milk. Of course I had to repeat myself more than once and there was some question about ice, but when all was said and done, I drove off with the delicious cinnamon latte I had been craving. This is a testament to the skill of the Starbucks guy because, what I realized as I waited for my latte, was that dulche de leche isn't actually the name of a cinnamon latte- it's, among other things, a Hagan Daz ice cream flavor. That's right. I went to the coffee place and, instead of ordering a Cinnamon Dolce Latte, I ordered yummy caramel ice cream. Thankfully my Starbucks guy was able to make the translation.
I'm not really surprised because a) I do that sort of thing all the time and b) they know how to hire at the Starbucks. That one with the dive through, for example, is the location of the super pretty guy who will lean out the window and discuss his plans for the weekend with you. And the other one, the one without the drive through, is the location of the nice fella who uses a fantastic friendship simulation technique as part of his customer service prowess. Once he takes your order, he sort of drapes himself over the counter and rests his chin on his hand and then he'll say something like So, what do you have going on today? You know, like we're all great friends. Like he actually has a clue who you are. It's fantastic and I participate. For $3.50, you really can't beat it. Oh, you know. My husband's parents are visiting so I had to get out. He'll shake his head in disgust and ask Man, what's up with them? Good question Starbucks Guy. Very good question.
Oh, oh. Another time I was at the drive through-less Starbucks with my sweet friend...hmmm...to protect her identity on the Internets, let's call her Shamanda. Pretty young blond Shamanda spoke at length with the Starbucks Guy about her various beverage needs. Then, after placing her order, hightailed it to the potty with her little girl. That left me with her baby and the purses. So Starbucks Guy asked me, Do you think she wants whipped cream? Before I could respond, he answered his own question Naw, she doesn't want whipped cream. Why, you are correct, sir. I know her disdain for superfluous dairy after six years of friendship, but you put on that black apron and can immediately see into people's hearts. It's the most beautiful thing.
I feel that strongly about it.
Not that you need to actually be in a freestanding Starbucks brand coffee place to make that kind of connection. Inside a bookstore I visit occasionally, for example, is a Starbucks that apparently employs only one person. Well, he's always there. Alone. We've gotten to know each other. So, when they finally hired a new person and the new person spent the better part of our interaction trying to convince me I needed a blueberry muffin, Always There Guy stood back with his arms crossed shaking his head. Always There Guy knows I don't get a muffin. I take my coffee and browse. You can't do that with warm baked goods. Always There Guy gets me.
Gosh, this is getting long. Do I have time for the Easter Egg Hunt or the near riot I caused at the Elementary School? Probably not. Oh, but before I go, I wanted to write an Open Letter to My Sundresses.
Dear Sundresses,
I miss you.
We haven't been together in so long, yet my affection for you hasn't diminished. I think often of the magical times we've shared. Like the time I thought I had nothing to wear and I opened up the closet and there you were, Bluey. Oh, and the time I was wearing you, Black & Whitey, but I got chilly so I threw on that pink cardigan. Changed our whole look. Yeah, that was awesome. And, Greeny... you, me, and Florent Serra at the Pilot Pen- good times.
Look, I won't lie. I don't know when we'll be together again. This weather blows. Just know that, even as I sit here wearing a puffy down vest indoors, I'm thinking of you.
Love,
Jennifer
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