Thoughts, disjointed...
We did the Wendy’s drive-thru window yesterday. Jeff wanted a crispy chicken and a coke. I just wanted a coke. I sort of giggled out the order, and all because the box crackled, as usual, then said tryacombo? It’s apparently a fundamental principle in which all Wendy’s order takers are drilled. You don’t say may I take your order or what can I get you or even what? You say Try a Combo, And the words just sit there, until they flatly plop to the ground ignored, because what do you say in response to that? I guess no thank you, but then you’d be trying to transmit more sound through the crackling box portal than is absolutely necessary, and this is not recommended.
I am so behind on Anne Arundel County Concert Association database entries. They will be sorry they gave me this job.
It is a nice thing when your daughters wait until they’re in college to have boyfriends. Easier on me, I think.
Gordon just picked Jeff up to go see their mom who’s having her regularly scheduled Spring crisis. Perhaps this one will resolve more neatly than last year’s coumadin disaster.
I got the second to last Wii in EB Games this morning. Nobody looks for video game consoles on Tuesday morning. Except for me, the lady in front of me, and the guy before her. And maybe one more person. So Gabe got his birthday present 6 weeks late.
I am waiting for further word, by text, email, or phone, from the Panamanian treetops. None yet, except the one letting me know she got there.
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