Joan of Ark checks out Slo in Pismo June Gloom
“Have you heard of June Gloom’?” Nazy asked.
“Yep! The weather treats us like a dog treats a fire hydrant..”
“No Dan. In early June every morning will be foggy and cool. The ocean has to warm up.”
“Do you have a match?”
“A what?”
“A match. Maybe we can boil it.”
“Boil what?”
“The ocean. That would warm it up. Or we could wait for El Niño.”
“Dan..”
“Or we could sleep until noon when the fog burns off. Or we could just ignore it. I didn’t notice the ‘May Gray’, did you?”
This week I also questioned my (vaunted) ability to ‘read’ people. As I explained to Nazy, it began at Trader Joe’s.
“I just wanted to pay for six lemons, but long queues had formed in front of each of the checkout lanes. I decided to apply analytics and judgement to the situation. I quickly counted items in the carts of each person who would potentially be in front of me to create a ‘short list’ of three potential check-out counters. Then I assessed the likely speed and efficiency of the person who would be directly in front of me. Naturally, I shunned chatty old women and families with two or more children. I made my choice..”
“By the time you chose, I would have been done.”
“As I had mentally determined, people at the front of ‘my’ queue moved quickly. Finally, I was behind the last one - a lady with two bundles of Iris flowers and (gasp!) a bottle of flat water.”
“Flat water?”
“No bubbles. I was immediately suspicious, but it was too late. I hadn’t seen the water.”
“What difference did...”
“There is no reason to buy flat water, it comes out of the faucet flat. I braced myself for disaster.”
“And?”
“She paid for her purchases with three different banking cards. And she couldn’t remember the PIN code on the third card. She decided to pay the $1.18 in cash. She had 118 pennies.”
“Bad luck Dan.”
“Bad judgement. I’m losing my touch.” I replied. “That woman was so dumb, she thought Joan of Arc was Noah’s wife.,” i thought.
Last weekend Nazy and I decided to take a road trip to..
“SLO!” Nazy exclaimed.
“But the fun of a road trip is ‘FAST’,” I explained.
“No, SLO. San Louis Obispo and, of course, the nearby Pismo beach outlet mall.”
“Ahh..”
San Louis Obispo Mission 1772
“And, there is a mission that we haven’t seen. I’m just a little worried about being so far away from Santa Barbara while Melika is pregnant.”
“Being far away make accelerate the birth,” I replied. “She’ll probably call while we are the farthest from Santa Barbara.”
I was prescient: Melika called just as we reached the SLO exit. However, nothing of note (like the birth of baby) had happened.
“Maybe she’s not really pregnant.” I thought.
We toured the Mission, had a wonderful lunch and then hit the beach and malls in Pismo. (Since it goes without saying that Nazy found some bargains, I will not mention the subject.)
Back in Santa Barbara, Nazy and I visited the World Market - which was offering great deals on wines. I selected a few bottles of Cabernet and headed to the checkout line. Nazy steered me toward the left checkout, but I wisely moved right.
“Never get in line behind someone with blue hair,” I whispered. “And the woman in front is only buying two greeting cards,” I thought.
“I want to exchange these cards,” the woman said.
“Do you have the receipt?” The clerk asked.
“Her hair is not blue,” Nazy whispered.
The woman began searching through her wallet - which had at least 394 receipts. (I know, because she found ‘the’ receipt on the 394th try.) The clerk asked her which cards she had chosen as replacements: naturally she hadn’t chosen any replacements. She wanted to examine all the cards on offer. The clerk at the adjacent checkout had packed up and gone home. Eventually, my nemesis made her selections.
“Finally!” I thought. But she wasn’t through.
“AND, I want to get that room divider,” she said, pointing. “But it is too heavy to carry. You,” she said to the clerk,”will need to carry it to my car.”
“That’s the floor model, ma’m,” the clerk replied. “We don’t have any more.”
“I’ll take that one. What’s the discount?”
“We will need to find a manager for that.”
“I’m not thirsty any more,” I mumbled as I left the wine on the counter. “Life is hard,” I thought. “You die in the end.”
We passed the Vera Cruz house at 521 Santa Barbara Street on the way home. It is a really unique place. (Nazy said, by the way, that the house was pistachio green, not yellow.) Different artists paint each panel; the panels are changed/replaced on a regular schedule.
