Entries

Good morning, Representative Shays!

Sage and Todd are playing online backgammon.

Todd Ooo, guess who’s on our site? Someone from the U.S. House of Representatives - housegate6.house.gov.

Sage I love the idea that some bored Representative is getting through housing proposals for the Federal Government by reading Ask the Crackpots on his laptop.

Paul and I went to the local department of motor vehicles.

Clerk What can I do you for today?

Sage Hi there. I need a copy my Missouri driving record, and my husband’s, please.

Clerk Is he here?

Sage Um, no. Sorry. He’s out of state right now.

Clerk Do you have his license?

Sage Shoot. No. Do I need it?

Clerk To get his record, unfortunately you do.

Sage He’ll be here the 25th through the 29th - are y’all open on any of those days?

Clerk No, I’m sorry.

[A polished boy walked into the office, looking like an extra from the movie Dead Poets Society. He gingerly picked his way through the tiny dark office to the front desk, face pinched.]

Polished Boy Excuse me, I need to transfer my car title from Connecticut to this state.

Boss Guy Cindy, you go ahead and take care of him. I’ll figure out this driving record deal. All right now, Sage, let me see your license, and you give me your husband’s full name.

[While Boss Guy found my records, then illegally retrieved Todd’s, I stood there getting curiouser and curiouser. I mean, Polished Boys do not move from Connecticut to the Ozarks. They simply do not. Not even when they fall for a girl from the wrong side of the Mississippi. Then, they make her move to Connecticut and then his mother is terribly mean to her, and she doesn’t fit in, and when she finds out that he’s boinking his sister’s best friend Bree-ann, she moves back to her hometown.]

Sage Hi - um - I know this is absolutely none of my business, but - why are you moving all the way out here from Connecticut?

Polished Boy, in a tone of great relief I’m not moving here. My car is.

Sage Ohhh.

Clerk It looks like all of your papers are in order, so you should be receiving your new title soon.

Polished Boy But…but I paid for the expedited service, right? So I should be getting it within ten days?

Clerk, smothering a laugh Sure, hon. If it doesn’t arrive there within ten days, you give us a call, okay?

[”Hi, I paid for expedited service? And my title isn’t here yet?” “Well, you just sit tight there, Mr. Connecticut. It’ll come along in a few days.”]

I thanked Boss Guy profusely for his willingness to bend the rules, and Paul and I headed out to Subway for some breakfast, having a long and involved conversation about the reasons that someone might call a sandwich store “Subway”, what it has to do with the actual subway, and so forth.

I think Brad Pitt has a steak face. No, this is relevant, I swear.

I think Brad Pitt has a steak face, and dead eyes, and his acting is on par with Keanu Reeves, which is to say show no emotion, talk in a monotone, and take off your shirt a lot, and people will flock to your movies. His appeal mystifies me.

We stood in front of the counter, waiting for a clerk to come and wait on us. A man about my age came in and stood behind us. Knowing that we intended to order four sandwiches - one each for breakfast, and one each for lunch at Mia’s, I invited him to go ahead of us. He smiled and thanked me, and it wasn’t until he was actually ordering that I realized why he looked so familiar. He looked like Brad Pitt’s younger, shorter brother. Same tone of voice, same accent. I thought, well, of course they’d have the same accent. Brad Pitt is from the Ozarks. And then I thought, hey, Brad Pitt is from the Ozarks, this could really be his younger, shorter brother.

But then as he left he thanked me for letting him go ahead of us, and smiled, and I decided it couldn’t be him. There was too much inflection in his voice, and his eyes were too twinkly.