Marty Moneychanger

Back when I was curling in Canada, it wasn't unusual for me to have Canadian money on me, at least during curling season. That would be April until October, just to satisfy all of you who are intensely interested in such trivial information. As such, I didn't mind a few extra Cabucks every now and then.

It so happened that one fine day I was in my bank here in Detroit when I noticed a bit of quiet consternation at the teller's window next to me. The teller was explaining apologetically to a young couple,  "I'm sorry, but I just can't exchange currency if you don't have an account here." They were Canadian and wanted US money.

"We only need a few American dollars," the guy was replying. The teller shook her head, holding out her arms to indicate her hands were tied. Policy, you know.

I interjected myself into the conversation. "How much do you need?"

The couple, startled a bit, turned to me. They considered their options and answered, "Just 40."

"To the best of my knowledge it's about par right now," I replied, meaning that Canadian and US dollars were about equal at the time. "I'll give you forty US for forty Canadian."

Hesitantly but gratefully, the man produced two Canadian twenties from his wallet. I gave him two of our Jacksons for it. "You can trust Mr. Cosgriff," the teller assured them.

Smiling broadly, the young man and the young woman blurted out together, "Thank you."

Just being a humble servant to Canadians in distress, that's all.

Oh The Humanity

I can take criticism. Oh, I have my days where I don't want to hear it. But I do try to bull through that resistance and accept what critics tell me. I wouldn't be putting my writing 'out there' if I couldn't do that.

Still, reviewers are human, and themselves subject to be wrong. A recent critic of my book The Sublime to the Ridiculous: Family Lore is in that spot.

She gave the book three stars out of five because "It reads more like a blog, which the author indicates is the source material, and would work better as that."

Oh. Kay. First off, I don't 'indicate' that a blog is the source material, I say flat out in the preface that the book is made up of blog posts. That's called a compilation. Many books are compilations. It's a standard practice.

Second, she knocks a blog collection because it's a blog collection? I'm deprived two stars for that?

Sometimes I don't get people. 

Power of Suggestion

Remember yesterday when I told you of going to Perry Bolt, ah, American Integrated Supply for some self locking nuts? It turns out I had to go a second time for a length of key stock. At least, that's what I call it. I needed a short piece of 3/16 x 3/16 square steel 3/4 of an inch long for a keyway in a metal shaft. I knew that I'd have to buy a length of it and cut it to size, but that was okay. I'd need more later. 

Walking to the counterman at AIS (maybe it is easier to say that than even Perry Bolt) I told him what I wanted. "We have that in 12 foot lengths," the man explained.

I asked in shock and surprise, "Twelve foot lengths?" I wouldn't use that much in decades. My kids would one day far in the future be wondering what the heck it was and why I needed a twelve foot piece. Well, an Eleven Foot 11 and a 1/4 inch long  piece. And where would I put it?

The man shook his head to clear it. "Twelve inch lengths," he corrected himself.

"Okay," I responded. "Give me a twelve foot length."

He grinned and replied, "I just told you they come in twelve inch lengths, Marty."

Once an idea gets into your head, right?

Cravings

I rarely crave anything very deeply. At times, yes, but not often. Where do cravings come from anyway? Why are they so powerful? Who knows. But what I do know is that Thursday afternoon along about one o'clock I found myself wanting Arizona Ice Tea with Lemon something awful.

The thing is, although I used to drink it on occasion and did like it well enough, it's been every bit of 20 years since my last sip. Even then it was never a taste I simply had to have. It just seemed like a good option at whatever time it was, in whatever store I was in. But Thursday; I wanted Arizona Tea with Lemon, period. Nothing else, nothing, I stress, would suffice.

I threw the locks on the door of the old barn and drove the four blocks to a party store where I noticed it before and prayed absurdly hard that they had that particular Arizona variety. They did. I bought one 24 ounce can and, on return to the Shop, downed it in 15 minutes. Man, did it taste good. I almost went for another, yet my craving was basically satisfied.

I still have no idea where the desire came from. I don't think I'm pregnant, although I understand from certain corners of that Internet thing that men can be with child. Then too, with the gender fluidity that's getting bandied about, perhaps I am in fact a nubile 24 year old woman. 

That's a joke, such as it is. Yet the craving was very real.