So, you think I don’t get around?
I get around even when I’m not trying to get around!
Like when I’m on an errand run, to the dry cleaners (for Ben who has only two favorite shirts), and the bank (Please, sir, I want some more”), the gas cabal station, the pet store, Target (damn them), and even to visit with Uncle Joe at his Pilate’s studio.
In fact, it was after a solidly sickening hour with an ever-exuberant 23 year old mat teacher (with limbs like jello and no real estate south of the equator- if you know what I mean), that I stumbled, s-t-u-m-b-l-e-d upon the meter maid that was giving me a parking ticket.
She wouldn’t overlook my lawbreaking. It was egregious.
I spat out an epitaph I hope she uses some day, and lost control of my cell (my mind really).
I quickly took stock of priorities, swept down, scooped up, and was met with salvation.
Because, if you’re going to jail in yoga pants, with freshly cleaned men’s shirts, a bag of cat food, and the body of a middle aged ex-goddess, you should first spend a little of that hard-earned 20 dollar bill on a good cup-o-joe and a rueben sandwich.
Thank God Jack was there to accommodate me…
|The most delicious classic Rueben-
grilled pumpernickel and rye, lean corned beef, swiss meted, and 1000 Island dressing.
Topped off by a sweet treat
4930 Prytania St.
made by hand daily.
|Hand made jelly beans
with a honey base.
|Food. Sweets. Free Wi-fi. Coffee.
|No- Jack is NOT in Manhattan.
He resides in New Orleans-
surrounded by dangerous parking and
middle aged crazy ladies.