I walked out to my car, burdened with all my belongings. I travel nowhere light; Robb was always the first to say so. Each trip to Starbucks includes three bags. I need them all, and all the pens therein.
(Anne Lamott says she carries one 3x5 card in her back pocket, folded in half, no less, lest she appear bulky as she gathers her writing ideas. I have some paring down to do before I may begin to look light on my feet.)
Anyway, I was traipsing to the car, with an unwieldy girth of bulk on my shoulders.
"Tricia! Tricia! Tricia!" I heard frantic calling behind me. I took a quick mental inventory of my many bags, since such frenzied shouting could only mean I had left something behind.
I turned to see 'my barista.' She was frantically waving a beautiful red, famously labeled, salt shaker in her hand.
"Tricia! I just had to tell you: we got the salt today! On Monday we can make you your salted caramel mocha!"
Now this is service, I tell you.
I asked her to please write my name on one shaker. I mean, they have six of them. That way when the season comes to an end and I must somehow come to terms with this change that is inevitable, they can bridge the gap for me with a special stash that has been mine all along.
Salted Caramel Goodness, you're only three days away. Okay, four.