During an evening walk, I stopped in a cul-de-sac to stretch.
Suddenly, a young girl and her dog bounded outside and planted themselves next to me on the sidewalk, staring ahead into the street. I thought this was weird until a well-groomed dad appeared from the same driveway, wheeling a portable basketball hoop. He rolled it to the corner of the cul-de-sac and ran back into the house. I imagined he was a screenwriter in the middle of something.
The girl started dribbling, and a cat appeared out of nowhere and settled into a good viewing spot. He watched the girl and ball with great interest.
“Is that your cat?” I asked.
“No, it’s our neighbor’s. He likes to watch me practice.”
The girl’s dog got bored and went inside, but the cat stayed.
“If you die, I get your Vitamix,” Piper said.
“I get your All-Clad skillets,” Akela replied.
“Doesn’t anyone want any of my stuff?” I asked.
“I’ll take your trash cans,” Piper said after a while.
I own a bunch of attractive Japanese trash cans made from ayous wood. One of them cost me $70.
“What about my laptop?”
“I’d prefer your trash cans.”
“Uh . . . I’ll . . . " She couldn’t think of anything.
For Christmas, I gave Mom several presents, including a set of artisan felted wool coasters. The set consisted of two mustard yellow coasters and two royal blue coasters, with an artsy silkscreened design on the top of each coaster.
After a few months, I noticed that Mom consistently used the blue coasters on the correct side and the yellow coasters turned over to wrong side.
"You don’t like the yellow coasters?" I asked her one day.
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