Since I was filling up at my usual gas station, I dashed across the street to my favorite Arabic food store. I had decided to buy some licorice ramsy* for LifeOnWry to help ease her licorice cravings. After chatting with the owner’s daughter and rejoicing with her over Saddam’s downfall, I exited the store only to encounter the owner on his way in. He was carrying a platter of dolmades and promptly offered me a taste. I popped one into my and was greeted by an explosion of delightful flavors. Perfectly cooked rice redolent with olive oil and vinegared lemon juice provided a perfect riposte to the faintly bitter grape leaf enfolding it. I turned on my heel and dashed back into the store demanding the recipe and threatening to bring a gun if that would help matters any. The daughter, whose lunch it was, laughingly offered me another irresistable morsel which I promptly bolted then cheerfully promised to transcribe the recipe for me.
Off I drove to a business appointment with a new client. While I was there, some of the principal movers and shakers informed me how they are so impressed with our work that they’re going to bring us in with some even larger corporations. My partner arrived a while later and reviewed the organizational work I had done. He took me aside and informed me that he was basically going to double my commission for this job. Another one of the clients then handed me a page which listed items that will probably double our total cash intake on this project.
Leaving the customer’s site, I dashed off to the bank and then hit my favorite Japanese market on the way home. I selected a sushi nigiri plate and two little slabs of truly fine hamachi sashimi. I also stocked up on my favorite Kikkoman Sashimi Shoyu, Hime organic wasabi powder and topped off my purchase with a Japanese Orion lager. Leaving the market, I headed for the freeway onramp. It was close to rush hour and things were getting pretty crowded. The ramp starts out with three lanes that quickly collapse into two. In my rearview mirror I could see a BMW driver squeeze past several cars so she could save fifteen microseconds of her time by cutting into line. I pulled my car over to straddle the two lanes thereby preventing her from cheating anyone else.
Just before the metering light gave me the go-ahead, I heard a muffled thump behind me. The pickup truck following me pulled aside to reveal the crumpled front end of the BMW, whose driver was so busy talking on her cell phone that she rolled into the vehicle ahead of her. Guffawing out loud, I proceeded home to enjoy some of the best take away sushi I’d had in months. Later than night, the Victorian duplex I live in was filled with beautiful clarinet music played by my new neighbor, the music major.
LIFE IS GOOD!
*An excellent Arabic licorice tea.