“Aloha,” it read. “Do you have any interest in selling your
lovely car” someone named Beverly wanted to know.
Frankly, Cecilia and I were
flattered by the billet-doux, but as
she’s been on television three times already, Cecilia has become quite
accustomed to fan mail.
Meanwhile, traipsing back into my
home for my purse, washing pollen off of my arm and checking my watch, I was
looking forward to a “Ladies Who Lunch” Birthday party brunch at a charming
establishment just off of Vine Street in Hollywood.
I’d already procured the
aforementioned lilies (all pink) for one friend, a delightful bouquet of purple
calla lilies for another celebrant, and even small token roses in tiny square
vases for the other women (whom I didn’t want to feel left out). And arriving to the Valet parking early in
order to unload, I asked where I was supposed to angle Cecilia.
“It’s Valet only” he reminded me,
pointing at the kiosk.
(Good grief, had I not properly
socialized in so long during my vacation that I forgot that they just take your
car?!?!)
“Yes of course” I smiled, unlatching
the bouquets and exiting my vehicle with the abundance of flowers. And stuffing the ticket into my handbag, I
watched uncomfortably/protectively as a complete stranger hopped into the
driver’s seat and motored away to a neighboring lot.
>>><<<
Approximately two and a half hours
later (with the lovely addition of another lady I’d never met before, yet we
all work in Hollywood show business and had many stories to share), I
reluctantly dismissed myself from the table after our celebratory brunch and a
communal chocolate soufflé with individual cups of real whipped cream. (DEE-LISH!!!)
But I admit I had some things on my
mind.
My “Ladies Who Lunch” had been a
plethora of resources assisting me with my new cell phone (not the predominate
technology, so my simpler cell was a breeze to them); but I was still a wee bit
panicky as to whether or not Best Buy could retrieve and upload my
contacts. And with love, hugs and half
of a gigantic bacon cheeseburger in a doggie bag, I headed out to retrieve
Cecilia.
“Would that be the green car?” Mr.
Valet wondered as I nodded proudly. And
upon leaping out and opening the door politely for me, I paid the man as
necessary before driving off.
“Good grief… You reek of cheap, pungent cologne!” I
snarfled to my automobile, who apparently did not disagree. And whipping Cecilia’s A/C on high, we attempted
to blast the stink out her carriage as we made our way down Santa Monica
Boulevard. “Do you mind if we make a
couple of stops while we air you out?” I asked aloud, as Cecilia spectacularly concurred
by ironically playing the band Weezer on her radio station.
Now whilst I’m not particularly
proud of my half a pack a day addiction to smokey treats, I must say that after
two and a half hours of lunching with the gals, I was JONESING for a
ciggy. And wheeling Cecilia into our
local 7-Eleven for my American Spirit Menthol Lights (I know the owner, and he
gives you a fair discount if you buy two packs at a time), I enjoyed a much desired
cigarette which seemed to effectively remove the final stench of Mr. Valet
hovering in her upholstery. *whew!!!*
(You may think
that ciggy smoke is vile; but Mr. Valet’s heavy cologne mixed with his sweat
from a hot day??? I have three words for
you, parking guy: “Deodorant and Febreze!!!)
“So, how about one last errand today
to Best Buy to upload my contacts from my old phone?” I politely asked Cecilia;
whom with her on-going intuitive timing began playing the song “Holiday” by
Green Day.
As no parking spots were available
on the street (yeah, no big surprise on a Sunday), we wound down into the
bowels of the dank basement, and nestling Cecilia into a dank niche, I hoped the
task wouldn’t take too long. She’d
already made herself perfectly clear by refusing any radio further contact
underground, and sulking in the structure as I locked her door, I could almost
swear I heard my car pout.
>>><<<
Approximately three customers deep for
the five Best Buy Mobile Employees, I stood patiently until I was eventually
beckoned to the desk. And confused
beyond belief by my antiquated cell phone, the young girl assisting me found
herself on a mission to figure out just how the heck the gizmo ever functioned!
But bound and determined to connect
my ancient phone to the new model, she fiddled for about 45 minutes before eventually
making the proper connections. “I’m not
sure what I just did” she admitted, “but I am NOT moving a muscle, because this is finally working” she sat immobilized as the gadgets interfaced with
each other.
“I know, I know” I apologized. “I haven’t upgraded in over eleven years” I
sighed miserably, feeling like a doddering old fool.
“Oh my goodness…!” she squealed a
few minutes later.
“What now?” I worried. “Is this a lost cause? Do I have to manually input all of my phone
numbers?” I asked, bracing myself for the painful truth.
“NO!” she yelped. “Everything is transferred, but WOW!!! You have sooo
many CONTACTS!!!” she gaped at me, all wide-eyed like she was staring at a cat
video that’s gone viral on You Tube.
>>><<<
Heading back to my automobile in the
belly of the cavernous parking structure, I had to admit that I was feeling
extraordinarily grateful.
I was a social butterfly!
I’d been out and about, and had fluttered
my wings appropriately! I even seemed to
have acquired more friends and work connections over the last two decades than
the tech assistant had in her combined social Medias! And I don’t even Tweet!
And whilst my Ladies Lunch had cost
me a tad more money than I’d anticipated (I had to bum a couple of bucks from
my friend Jeannie to pay Mr. Stinky Valet and get my car out of hock), I was
glad to have brought a bit of floral joy into the hearts of some friends that I
love.
>>><<<
Piling into Cecilia who was eager to
get out of the bowels of the parking garage and back to her throngs of fans, we
circled the up-ramps as she continued to deprive me of music until she saw the
light of day.
“Are you kidding me?” I scoffed, as
her radio finally kicked in with “Paradise City” by Guns N’ Roses.
“TAKE… ME…
HOME…!” Axl Rose belted out of her dashboard.
(Yikes!)
>>><<<
Now, for those of you (like me) who
may be a tad rusty on your Physics (aside from the occasional episode of CSI or Big Bang on television),
there exists Edward Lorenz’s theoretical
example of a hurricane’s formation that may be contingent on whether or
not a distant butterfly had flapped its wings several weeks earlier.
“In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions,
where a small change at one place in a deterministic nonlinear system can
result in large differences to a later state.” ~Wikipedia
Was mine the simple act of procuring
flowers to celebrate the joys of spending yet another of many Birthdays to come
with people so dear to my heart? Was it
keeping the memories alive of all of my contacts – some who have passed away,
but I can’t bring myself to delete their numbers? Or was it merely the flapping of Cecilia’s
Diva wings that altered The Cosmos??? (Seriously, we listen to Alternative Rock, not
Heavy Metal!)
And gathering my snail mail, I
bolted the door to the bat cave shut after a busy day whilst mindlessly sorting
through the pile of postal deliveries.
“Not a bill, not a bill, not a bill…
Hmmm…: Two envelopes from the Residuals
Department at SAG-AFTRA? That’s odd” I
scrunched my face in confusion, as one return address was printed in standard
black and white, whilst the other gleamed tantalizingly in black and gold:
Suffice it to say (though it didn’t actually classify as a hurricane), I DID receive
a small windfall in my mailbox!!!
Sending a warmest “Thank You!” to
SAG-AFTRA for paying my next month’s rent!
And wishing you all a moment today
to stop and smell the roses,
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