In the parking lot of Ralph’s

I went to see The Queen yesterday, and afterwards I was feeling all nostalgic about England. It was the first evening after the time change, so it’s just about 5 pm we’re on the way to darkness. From somewhere, from nowhere, it got cooler and the breeze whispered, “This is as close as it gets to autumn in southern California, so you’d better enjoy it.”

I took a detour on my way back to the car and stepped into Book Alley, a fine used-book establishment. I leafed through a volume of George Herbert, found a book with a lot of poet’s pictures in it, and wondered how I would pose if I were ever being photographed as “poet.” Everyone in the book looks wizened, or scholarly, or both. I decided that crossed-eyes, or a balloon creation on the head, would be the way to go.

So I’m in the car, and I decide to stop at Ralph’s on the way home. Not one of my favorite stops, but my husband is having dinner with a friend so it’s a chance for me to make pasta for dinner (he’s a potato guy), and I need parmesan cheese. I pull into the parking lot and wow–I see a friend of mine…a new friend who is English and who’s just returned from a trip home to promote her one-woman show (she’s in the midst of writing it and had a good nibble from the folks at Really Useful Group.)

She doesn’t live in my town…just happened to be here for a meal and shopping. It was so fun and affirming and great to bump into her…what are the chances?

Happy autumn, everyone.

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