I was rereading some of my posts the other day (as I often do when I’m supposed to be working on a big presentation or a tax return) and I came across one of my favorites. I remember how excited I was when I wrote it. My finger trembled as I hit “publish” because, false modesty aside, I knew it was one of the best things I’d ever written. I kept checking my stats page that morning, hoping…no, I’ll say it – expecting to see the sudden jump in hits that heralds a Freshly Pressed post.
But it never happened.
As I reread that post, alternately laughing out loud at my cleverness and stewing in my own bile at the no-FP injustice, it occurred to me that I’m probably not alone. I bet most bloggers have one post that had them thinking, “THIS One Should Have Been Freshly Pressed”
Welcome to a new feature on Peg-o-Leg’s Ramblings.
I’ve asked some of my blogging buddies to select their best, overlooked posts. I had to twist some arms to get them to admit they thought their stuff was worthy of the coveted FP because, while most of these people are way more talented than I, they’re also a lot more modest. I plan to run a post by a different blogger every Wednesday.
Be sure to check in each week to see some of the best material around the interwebz. Past entries can be found on the “THIS One…” page link at the top of this blog.
Today’s offering is from Misty over at Misty’s Laws. I didn’t really have time to do more than skim her “About Me” page, but it seems she is an attorney with the Government’s Legal Exotic Dancer Squad (GLEDS), and her parents aren’t happy about it.
I’ve been visiting her blog for a while and I’ve got to say, I’m a bit disappointed. Oh, don’t get me wrong; the writing is great, the Weekly Whacked “gotcha” pictures of people letting it all hang out are hysterical and the bloggy camaraderie can’t be beat. It’s just that her avatar is “Mistyslaws” with no apostrophe. I originally went over to her place looking for a good recipe for cole slaw, and I have yet to see a single one. Kind of a bait and switch, if you ask me.
Me running Misty’s post today is just random chance and has absolutely nothing to to with the fact that it is her BIRTHDAY! You can wander over to her blog for cake and ice cream after you read:
The Last Straw . . . to My Heart!
I have an admirer. I am being wooed on a daily basis. I see him almost every day and he gives me what I so desperately need. He satisfies my cravings and soothes the beast within. He gives me the ability to face the day. He provides me with the fix that I need before I can function every morning. He is . . . the drive-thru guy at my Dunkin Donuts.
Not only does he provide me with my much needed caffeine fix every morning on my way to work, but I think he may be a bit sweet on me. It started a few weeks ago. I always order the same thing. Since I go there every day, the woman who takes my order through the speaker tends to stop me before I even finish, saying “yeah, I got it,” because she knows what I am going say. It is the same thing I say each and every day. I am a regular. I am Norm.
In addition to getting the same thing every day, I also always ask for a big straw at the drive thru window. Since I usually order a small latte, if I don’t ask for a big straw, I will get a puny little straw. It is their policy to give out little straws with small drink purchases, apparently. So, if I want a large straw, I will have to ask. And so began our love affair . . . .
After a few days of me asking this particular drive-thru guy for a big straw for my drink, and him sheepishly saying, “oh, yeah, I forgot,” he apparently decided he would remedy this situation by giving me multiple big straws. He started giving me 2 at a time. Ok, I thought, it’s always good to have an extra 1 or 2 in the car I guess. That’s cool.
Then came the day when I knew he was truly smitten. He gave me my drink with a big straw. Then, as he returned my credit card to me, he handed me another straw. I told him that he had already given me a straw, and to this he replied: “this one’s for tomorrow.” Ok, I said, smiling. Then he grabbed another straw and handed it to me, saying: “this one’s for yesterday.” Laughing, I said thanks and then drove away, knowing that I had just experienced a moment. Possibly the one we would tell our grandkids about.
In the next few days of our encounters, he was sure to hand me multiple straws, sometimes 3, as many as even 4 at a time. Each straw a profession of his love to me. I mean, anyone can buy flowers for somebody they are sweet on, but multiple straws is a true sign of affection.
I don’t know his name. But what do names matter when it comes to true love? I am married. Who cares when the heart wants what it wants? I have children. I’m sure our strong bond over straws and coffee can weather any baggage we might bring to this new relationship.
I will keep everyone informed of our future wedding plans. Although, I’m sure the one thing we won’t have to discuss is the bouquets. As you can tell, they are going to be spectacular.