Tuesday, September 28, 2010


There is an awful report I have to compile each month, its degree of awfulness directly correlating to the month's data volume, and this month's is a doozy. I always put off compiling this report until the last minute (on account of its awfulness) and the last minute was tomorrow.

But then we were informed it's actually today.

I thought the best preparation would be a huge iced coffee to fortify me for awful, extensive afternoon-hijacking report-compiling. So I got in my car and headed to McDonald's because sometimes, and really I promise only verry occasionally, a humungous iced coffee + french fries = the perfect lunch.

But still: driving through McDonald's. What an unholy act.

I noticed while paying that the cashier's name was Concepcion and I won't draw any heavy-handed analogies about pleasures of the flesh but I wish you were here to share, because these fries are good.

There is an ancient weathered man pushing an empty shopping cart down University like it's a walker. He wears a Yankees cap with a sharp brim and he makes me smile because he's ancient and determined and because he likes the Yankees. I have strong football loyalties but none really for baseball but my lovely husband is a Yankees fan. My lovely husband doesn't wear baseball caps, though, but maybe he will when he's 114 and pushing an empty shopping cart to get a little fresh air and I'll bet he'll look steadfast and jaunty like that.

There were two Detroits of my youth, the one before my grandfather died and the one after, and in one of those Detroits but I don't remember which we went to see the Tigers play in Tiger Stadium, back when the team still played in the city, like lucrative business-reviving teams with fiercely dedicated urban fanbases should. There was a barker who sold drinks up and down the stands and I don't remember anything about the game itself that day but my brother and I will never forget his honking call: "Ice cold Coke beep Beep Beep BEEP!" That's my most distinct baseball memory.

The gas station on the corner has a sign that begins with promise but ends so flatly:

sold here

That's a gas station that needs a barker.

On the last residential street before I turn back to work there's a house that always makes me wonder. Because: if you see a short evergreen all tied up with water bottles, do you wonder?

Nice bird-poop streak on my car window. Let's pretend this house also has a flagpole, shall we?

Look closely: there are actually two water-bottle trees, one on each side of the walkway.

Keep pondering that for me. I have data to lasso and I can't have any water bottles at my desk but it's good to know that somebody keeps an abundance not too far away. Pin It