Last year, when Lily was pregnant, she and I were going black berry picking. We drove down Lloyd Creek Road and a woman in the middle of the street flagged us down. I stopped.
"My grandmother is sick in Monticello and I need a ride!" the woman said. I looked at Lily and sighed. I'm such a sucker.
I gave her a ride and by the time we got to Monticello she'd hit me up for money for the Burger King because she had low blood sugar and needed to eat.
Whatever. I give, you do what you want with it. Ain't my business.

So today, I was on my way to Monticello, late for rehearsal because Owen had gotten here with his parents right as I was leaving and I HAD to take him to look for eggs and hold him on my hip and get some sugar before I left and there was a woman on the corner of Highway 158 and Lloyd Creek Road, trying to flag down a car. Well, hell, I stopped because THAT'S WHAT I DO and I'm sure it was the same woman as last year although with my face-blindness thing, I can never be sure.
"My grandmother in Monticello is sick and I need a ride!" she said.
Right. Same woman.
She got in the car and adjusted the seat. This is a BIG woman and she smelled freshly bathed and was dressed just fine but still, the whiff of duplicity was in the air. Whatever. I was going to Monticello anyway so what the hell?

I tried to converse and she went along with that plan. Everything I said, from, "I thought it was getting cooler but it's gone back on us," to "I can never figure out if this way is faster or not," got a "Thank-you!" from her. Not a thank-you like thank-you for doing this for me but a thank-you like you can say that again.

We got to Monticello and she told me exactly where to pull up in front of the Winn Dixie to let her out and I did what she told me, being grateful that she hadn't asked me for money for the Burger Queen to help her with her sugar problem and she got out of the car and started walking off. I thought to myself, "She did not even say thank-you."
Then she turned back to the car and I thought, "Oh, now she'll thank me," but instead she said, "What time is it?"
"Three-o-eight," I told her.
And she turned back around and walked off and I pulled out of the Winn Dixie parking lot and drove to the Opera House and parked. Just as I getting out of the car, Judy and Denise pulled up.
"Don't lock your car," Denise said and I didn't.
And then they handed me a soft-cover copy of the book you see above. The book that has the picture of Jerry Hall in it that I wrote the haiku about on Friday.
I did absolutely nothing to deserve that gift. Nothing.

It all works out.

But I'll tell you this- I am not ever going to stop for that woman who needs a ride to Monticello because her grandmother is sick.
Never.
Ever.
Probably.
Most likely.

Whatever.