Just Visiting

I was working in our New York office yesterday. This allows me the pleasure of the interaction with my old work colleagues; the infamous Jewels, tell-it-like-it-is Mamela and the queen of the sweet non sequiter, The Glamazon. Because I am technically not a resident of this office any longer, I have to request permission in advance from the office manager to visit whereas she assigns me a place to work for the day. On this particular day, she assigned me a quiet office on the west side of the building. So secluded was this space that after working for two hours, I ventured out to see my old pals since they clearly had no clue I was in the building that day. Hug, hug, kiss, kiss, hilarity ensues. I do love being around these folks.

After making nice with them all and making the usual late morning coffee run with Jewels, I returned to my assigned cubicle to focus on work. At that very moment, The Glamazon came flouncing in. She was robed in a flattering sundress and sky high stilettos. She still wore her oversized sunglasses on top of her head, more fashion statement than forgetfulness. She plopped down and started talked, gesturing effusively and gracefully. And so the conversation began:

Glamazon: How are you? How was your weekend?
Me: Well, I actually went into the office on Sunday and..
G: My mother is driving me crazy. She won't accept Medicaid.
M: Does she need to?
G: Well, not yet, but she's 88 [she raps her knuckles on the Formica desk] and God forbid she goes anytime soon, but she'll need help eventually and she refuses to apply for Medicaid.
M: Why is that?
G: Well, she was born on the Upper West Side. Central Park West to be exact. Don't you know she has an expectation that someone in the family takes care of her and not the government. She doesn't need care now [repeat knuckles rapping desk] but she will and this is my challenge. I can't dip into my retirement savings to get her a paid companion. And I need my savings to support me. I don't have kids. Who will take care of me?
*Pause*
M: And how was your weekend?
G: I bought a cookbook.
M: You cook?
G: I'm a good cook! You should try my brisket for the Jewish holidays. Everyone loves it. Not too many calories. And you have lots of options with the leftovers.
M: What cookbook did you buy?
G: Well, I was on the subway and I saw a woman reading a cookbook.
M: I don't think people actually read cookbooks. They reference them, right?
G: No, she was reading it. Like "War & Peace" reading it.
M: I see.
G: Anyway, I was reading it over her shoulder on the subway...
M: Like "War & Peace" reading it?
G: No, I was looking at the pictures. I was hungry. I had my Special K very early and I was hungry and the pictures were simply delicious. I was salivating.
M: Which cookbook was it with such enticing photos?
G: "30 Minute" something...
M: Rachel Ray's cookbook?
G: I don't know. I just know the pictures looked very delicious. Anyway, I went to the Barnes & Noble in Union Square and bought my own copy. I paid full price.
M: Glory be. Full price.
G: Yes, but once I got it home, I was disappointed. The meals didn't seem quite right.
M: How so? Did you try some of the recipes?
G: Well, no I didn't try them. I mean, the pictures were beautiful but the meals sounded like they didn't taste good.
[These are the Glamazon moments I love best]
M: [carefully] Ummm...how did you know they wouldn't taste good?
G: Well, in order to prepare these 30 minute recipes, you had to find weird foods. This was gourmet cooking--it wasn't easy!
M: What sorts of gourmet foods?
G: Saffron, cumin, cilantro. You have to go to Chinatown to find that kind of stuff!

Well, actually, you only have to walk a few blocks to Union Square. There's a place called Whole Foods that apparently carries these kinds of exotic foodstuffs. But my goodness, that would be work to explain. Fortunately, The Glamazon explained that she was able to return the purchased cookbook for full price. She is easily had with two words only: Return Policy.

I love these conversations. Bless her.