To Build A Wall Between Us

Outside, wind drives the rain sideways in dramatic sheets and tugs open the family store's front door. Miles Davis' trumpet, the very sound of ache and longing, offers the room a glittering wishfulness, as if each glass ornament, each hanging paper star, each smooth bamboo plate hopes to be loved. My sister Corinne womans the till in the toy store next door, where I found two new lunchboxes to adore. I seldom carry purses. I carry lunchboxes. One lists the planets. Corinne warned me about Pluto. I scoffed.

Tata: Semantics, darling. My solar system didn't lose a planet - it gained three dwarf planets. Everyone knows that means more moons for me!
Corinne: You make it sound like a reason to go shopping.
Tata: Yes, and wherever will we seat them at Thanksgiving dinner? Are high chairs an insult? Hospitality is no laughing matter!

When I first typed that, I transposed letters, but I'm wearing new reading glasses picked out for me by that fashion maven, my pharmacist. That sounds dreadful, but a gal on her own has to use her resources wisely. During one of my weekly excursions to the drugstore to pick up medicine for Larry, the little black cat bent on stealing your soul, I found that cardboard rack of reading glasses one finds everywhere, and this was fortune worth celebrating. My other reading glasses lost that little pad-thingy that keeps the frame from digging into the bridge of my nose like a backyard fence post, so I asked the pharmacist, an older man and the father of a high school acquaintance, if there were other styles besides the Lisa Lubner models on display. He promised to order some. Yesterday, I found a rack full of new reading glasses he'd plainly chosen to coordinate with my hair color, which is red and visible from space. Yes, it is. I tried them on but with no mirror handy I resorted to the only quality control available to me.

Tata: Do these look terrible?
Pharmacist: They work with your hair and the shape contrasts with the arch of your eyebrows.
Tata: Sold!

Naturally, the first thing I did was try them out on 50% of my sisters.

Tata: New glasses: opinion!
Anya: Ooh, cool!
Corinne: I can't.
Tata: Why?
Corinne: I need new glasses.

Yeah, whatever. Sometimes life throws you groaners. Sometimes you get headliner material. Yesterday, a student worker I rather like, who usually dresses like a schlub, walked past me wearing an ensemble and heels. On her way back, I barked at her.

Tata: Why are you dressed like that?
Her: Lost a bet.

No kidding! I couldn't have asked for anything so great. I now love her.

Tata: Really? Who hates you this much?
Her: My best friend.

Oh. My. God. I am so happy.