On my birthday, I woke up and biked eight miles to a cafe a few towns over that I love. I ordered a latte and some chocolate cake, because it’s my birthday and I want cake. I get my latte and my cake, settle into a table, and get to work updating my journal.  

That’s when the guy shows up. He’s an older man, mid-fifties, in sandals and socks, and he is fascinated by my pens. I can’t blame him. They’re a set of twenty-five felt tip pens that run the spectrum from shades of brown and green to shades of red and orange (including black and gray). The man likes office supplies, and so do I, so we bond over that. He concludes by handing me a card and telling me he owns and operates a “Global cannabis business.” Then he goes to the restroom, which is right behind me.  

I put his card in my bag and go back to journaling. 

A few minutes later he sits down at my table and asks me what my passions are. I tell him. He asks what the thing I’d like to accomplish the most is (getting a lot of people to read my writing). He says, “You and your wife should come by my place this weekend. We’ll talk. I could get you those readers.” I say thanks. He tells me about the three Cs of his life: Christ, Cannabis, and Capitalism. But especially cannabis. And he tells me why. Eventually he leaves.  

I didn’t go to his place. I wonder if I’m going to see him again at that cafe. I wonder if he’ll remember me. He’ll definitely remember my pens. 

One of the biggest rules at work is that the managers don’t want to see any phones on the sales floor. No problem, I just shut mine down and drop it in my pocket. And that’s worked out for me just fine. 

Except for that one time I didn’t turn it off. 

And so, in the middle of a transaction and in a long line at the cash register, the sound of a dog barking, i.e. my ringtone, came bursting out of my pants. I tried to ignore it. 

My customer raised her head like a cat hearing a can opener and asked, “Did you hear that?” 

And the phone kept barking, because the caller wasn’t going to accept me not picking up. 

“It sounds like a dog,” she said.  

I couldn’t switch it off, nor could I turn it off afterward, because “No phones on the floor.” So I spent the rest of the day in fear that this person would call back.  

But I never left my phone on again. 

Disclaimer: I take my job seriously and treat my customers with the utmost respect. That said … 

A woman today came up to me at the cash register and told me she was looking for the “old-fashioned tabs.” I asked her exactly what kind of tabs she was looking for, she said “the old-fashioned tabs.” I asked her what she was planning on using them for, and she said, “organizing.” I asked her where in the store she purchased them before, and she said, “I don’t remember. Just that they were the old-fashioned tabs.” I asked her what specifically she was looking for, and she said impatiently, “The Old. Fashioned. Tabs.”  

Meanwhile, the line behind her grew.  

Ordinarily in this situation I would go to a computer and search for what the item might be based on a general description. But “old-fashioned tabs” wasn’t giving me much to go on (I even typed in “old-fashioned tabs” just to see if it was a brand name I was unaware of. I’ve been surprised by that kind of thing before.).  

Meanwhile the line behind her grew. 

So I tapped a bunch of buttons on the keyboard at random and said to her with great disappointment, “Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t carry those anymore.” 

“That’s okay, I didn’t think you did,” she replied, clearly satisfied with the exchange. 

The rest of the day was a bit more normal. 

My spouse and I just returned from a cruise of the Mediterranean, and I was shocked to find out we were not the youngest couple there–not by a long shot. This was good, because it helped me stave off my midlife crisis just a little longer. This was bad because, just once, I was hoping to be the baby again, like I had been in my New York social circle so long ago. Regardless, cruisin’ and touristin’ it up were a blast*, and I was not happy to return home. 

Here are just ten random thoughts from my trips ashore.  

1. Our cruise ship played that song when we pulled into port at Istanbul. It left me wondering what they would play when we pulled into Greece: “Summer Nights” or “You’re the One That I Want.” 

2. In Istanbul I have seen in person the sword of King David, the staff of Moses, a tooth and lock of beard from the Prophet Mohammad, and assorted pieces of John the Baptist. 

3. The main activity for tourists at the Acropolis is complaining about all the other tourists at the Acropolis. 

4. There seems to be a law in quaint Greek towns that every male has to work out. Because dang. 

5. There are a lot of strip clubs in Athens. 

6. Herculaneum is one of the most breathtaking places I’ve ever seen, second to Machu Picchu. 

7. Most of the hazelnuts used in Nutella are farmed near Rome, making it as holy a site to me as the Vatican is to Catholics. Meanwhile, in the Vatican: 

8. St. Peter’s Basilica is bigger than you’d think. The Sistine Chapel is smaller than you’d think. There are a lot more gift shops in the Vatican than you’d think. 

9. The French are not impressed with your attempts to speak their language. 

10. Barcelona is Catalonia. Catalonia is not Spain. Therefore, Barcelona is not Spain. (And they will not hesitate to tell you that). 

There is, frankly, too much to get into here, and that’s because Oh my God, I got, like, three acceptance letters while I was on vacation as well as an editor who wants me to slightly revise a romance story I’d submitted to her anthology (mostly I need to make the hanky-panky at the climax—Ha! “Climax”!—a little hankier-pankier). That puts me at six-and-a-half acceptances. Maybe I am on a hot streak. 

Also, Venice is really weird, guys. It’s like an alien snatched up intimate corners of Europe–people from every race, buildings from every century, pillars from ancient Rome, weather from wherever—plopped these things onto a swamp, linked everything together with an inconceivable variety of bridges, applied gondolas, and opened it up to tourists. I totally want to live there.  

_____ 

* So much food. So. Much. Regret. 

I’d been having a day full of traffic stress and other such inconveniences that low blood sugar transforms into Godzilla-level disasters, leading me to a mild panic attack. I had to get out of my truck, and so I (safely) abandoned it and hauled ass to the closest place to get a sandwich and a smoothie. 

A few bites and sips later, manager of the cafe dropped by my table to instruct me on the proper use of a glass catsup bottle. Just before he left me to my fries, he shyly inquired, “If you don’t mind, I was hoping you could help us with something we need to know.” 

“Sure,” I say. After all, he did outwit the catsup for me. Besides, I was curious. 

“Do you say ‘d-OHN-key,’ or ‘d-AHN-key’?” 

“Um,” I reply. I now had a few questions of my own, but they were better left unasked.  

But the story didn’t end there. Because after lunch, I took a walk and stopped in a Starbuck’s for a coffee and a half-hour with my new sketchbook. The barista consulted me on something she could not comprehend at all, which was the American obsession with pumpkin-flavoring every autumn. 

And so, all it took to wipe away all the stress and tension of the previous ninety minutes was a brief discussion of the regional accents and seasonal flora of my home country. Seriously, I forgot why I had this headache. 

I overheard the following exchange this morning between Kate and Henry the kitten: 

“MEOOOOOOOWL!” 

“I’m not letting you in!” 

“MEOOOOOOOWL!” 

“I’m allowed to go to the bathroom alone!” 

“MEOOOOOOOWL!” 

“Go away!” 

“MEOOOOOOOWL!” 

I then heard the sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Happy now?” 

“Mew!” 

Chapter 1: I settled down to a nice lunch of leftover Nando’s chicken. Unbeknownst to me, Newcastle somehow stole and hid a skin-covered bone—which, in retrospect, explains why he stopped bothering me about it all of a sudden. 

Chapter 2: While I went to the gym, Kate settled down to a nice dinner of the rest of the leftover Nando’s. Assuming this meant it was chicken-time for everyone, Newcastle retrieved the skin-covered bone from its hiding place and happily trotted around the living room with it. 

Chapter 3: Kate chased down and caught Newcastle, removing his prize from his mouth. I’m assuming the soundtrack to this was “Yakety Sax” by Boots Randolph. 

Chapter 4: I returned from the gym to Kate on the couch with a look on her face that said, very clearly, “You need to control your pet.” I shuffled to the bedroom to Newcastle on the floor with a look on his face that said, very clearly, “You need to control your pet.”