Tuesday, June 18
Randy and I decided to meet for dinner tomorrow. We picked a place between my house and his hotel then he texted me a photo of a gaudy pickup with giant tires and sparkling rims.
“You should be able to recognize me when I drive my Hertz rental,” he texted. “Btw, if you have an extra book at the house, I'll buy it providing you sign it.”
“Excited you’re showing up in that!!! You better take me for a ride. I'll bring a signed copy of my book but you're not buying it.”
“That car is parked by my hotel at a tire shop,” Randy texted. “Always wanted to feel like a pimp in a 'hood car.”
“Always wanted to be a bitch in a pimped ride.”
“Yeah, I see it now: 2 white people in that car and the brothas thinkin it got stolen! Yeah, yo be my bitch, sista.”
Apparently Randy was the same guy who had me laughing so hard my stomach hurt in grade school. Thank God.
“How are u,” Golf Guy texted.
“Good. I did yoga with my client by his pool. It was a gorgeous night. How are you?”
“I'm good, have been super busy...weather was perfect today. How is your writing going?”
“Writing is going well.”
“My boys just left yesterday for 4 weeks of away camp.”
“Timberlane in Wisconsin. And you should never end a sentence with a preposition... You should have asked… ‘where to asshole’"
“That's good! Hahaha. The boys and I are going to Minocqua. Tom's going to his dad’s when we get back and I'm headed to the Smokies. My friend is taking me to the mountains to meet her shaman then we’re going to her beach house. How cool is that?”
“Ever see a shaman?”
“No...I don't even know what that is.”
“A spiritual guide, healer. Should be interesting. My friend says she’s been getting a lot of signs from hawks.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“Not at all.”
“Life is fun.”