Eavesdropping on Kids in the Coffee Shop

I have to share this with my blog followers.

So, I'm sitting at Beans and Bytes (the cyber cafe/coffee shop downtown that I don't work at) typing on this here blog and I hear a boy of maybe 10 or 11, still in his school uniform, say to one of his friends,

"Hey, I meant to tell you this. Remember that girl Tianna I used to like? I found out she my cousin."

I can't help but to giggle and glance at the kid. He looks back at me and shrugs, as if to say, "What ya gonna do?"

Keep your ears open, folks. You will be amused.

The Importance of Staying Left

Since Saturday morning is so radiantly sunny and glorious, I decide to take the Lionel Pierre Barry Scenic Drive to my old apartment where I am to spend a rare Saturday off inside cleaning. I like this route because it reminds me of my happy college years in Northeast Iowa with its rolling hills and farm animals. Except that when you look up and out, you cannot help but notice the vast ocean before you instead of corn fields. Parts of this lovely road are, however, even narrower and windier than St. Thomas’ main thoroughfares.

It occurs to me that perhaps I am driving a bit too close to center, especially when I notice that the car approaching me could be doing the same. Unfortunately, before I can alter course, a noise informs me that, without a doubt, this car and I have engaged in a minor sideswipe.

We both stop in the middle of the road, per island custom. I get out of the car and the woman passenger in the other car does the same. Everyone is fine, except for my side mirror, which is lying in the road.

Meanwhile, cars are backing up behind our vehicles. We are blocking traffic, and I want to get on my way. The man in the driver’s seat peers out the passenger window at me and says,

"Well, we were a bit surprised, but at least we're both listening to NPR."

I am unable to respond with anything witty. Only a surprised giggle.

Then the woman and I pick up my mirror, get back into our respective cars, and we gone.

Sans the passenger mirror and with a window that won’t roll, the Corolla is now truly an island vehicle.

Iguana Bonding

You may have noticed that this so called blog has been on hiatus.
My excuses are many.
Mom on island for the holidays. Moving for the fourth time in a year.
My attempt at a comeback is a few daily nuggets from recent island life.

So, last week on my way back to work from lunch, I notice my favorite downtown cop outside the coffee shop of my employ expertly holding a bright green iguana in both hands. I approach, nodding toward the iguana,

"Why?” I ask.

"He was in the street about to be hit by a car, so I'm moving him to the grass." (This gentle act exemplifies why I like Spratley best.)

Since he is safely in the arms of the officer, unable to crawl over my foot or up my leg, I invoke the courage to pet the lizard. (Okay, after a few reads, I just noticed the double meaning of the preceding few words. But honestly, what can you do when you’re seriously talking about touching a reptile?!) I softly stroke his back with two fingers and notice the eye that previously looked at me is now closed. I interpret this as a sign of relaxation.

"Does that feel good, honey?" I ask the lizard, in my just-for-animals voice.

"If you stroke the top of his head, he'll close both of his eyes. They like that," says Officer Spratley.

I stroke the top of the iguana’s head and the eye facing me closes again. I sincerely hope the one on the other side of his head is doing the same, but don’t think to ask. And in this silly little moment, my heart opens to the reptile. Making him feel good makes me feel good and the whole interaction makes me feel more connected to the island.

I suppose now it will be even more traumatic when Harley drags their carcasses into the house.