April May and June buy a book.

There’s going to be a book club meeting.

With a group of A, M & J’s best friends? No. More anonymous, which is fine with them. It’s a one nighter at the library with a gentile, intelligent librarian personally recommended by an old friend who is related by divorce to said librarian.

So April May and June need to read the book, right?

Off to buy the book, April and June head out in June’s car for a change. June is driving which is iffy, but there is more room, as April’s car has too many children’s things which she’s collected and gathered for her class of little ones. June works with a class of little ones, too, but is beyond caring if they have creative little projects or not. She’s really just about had it with the little darlings.

The book buying goes quickly and efficiently.

June falls for the “can we have your email address so you can save 40% off best sellers next time you’re in” shill. She’s not happy giving out her email address to just about anyone, but she’s bleary eyed enough to want to get this buying over with and will fall for anything to get out of the store. She adds the member card to her stuffed wallet full of credit and gift cards: more credit than gift.

No coffee for A&J at the bookstore because April, who has many more gift cards from adoring parents of children in her “private school class” than June, who only has one gift card and a pedicure from parents of children in her “public school class”. Private school kid’s moms are more appreciative than public school moms who tend to have a “leave me out of this” attitude and who just are glad to have the kids out and hopefully learning something.

Then lunch.

April reminds June of the possible snack offerings at the local health-minded, but not heath-store per se, grocery. By the way, June is doing very well maneuvering her white car down freeway and through parking lots full of white cars, 5 of which surround her at the grocery. Will she find her way back through the camouflage, or will it be lost amongst the white?

We’ll see.

Indeed the wealthy health grocery store has free snackage (thanks, Tuesday, for the cool new word), so with toothpick and tiny napkin in hand A&J begin the appetizer portion of lunch. First soft gooey cheese, and good cheese at that, slathered on small crackers looking as communion-wafer-ish as possible without being blessed, and with a fruit sauce-ish topping.

And guess what!

It’s on sale today, down from $24 per lb. to a mere $19 per lb. What a deal. A&J smack the snack, and move on. They’ve been quite social and cheerful with the cheese spreader guy, who, they’ve been informed, is gaining weight due to eating too many cracked crackers with cheese. Seems the delicate wafers crunch in half with the force of the knife and will no longer appeal to the shoppers, thus the age old dilemma: to eat or toss.

No contest.

Now to the sandwich line in the deli.

April gets to choose, because June likes everything except octopus or squid (really, they are simply rubber bands if you think about it). June skips away seeking free snack tables scattered about the store (incidentally not having to stand still in the deli line...an awful thing on a Saturday, really!). Returning with crackers for April of cream cheese dip and toothpicked squares (awfully small) of too strong cheese. There was some delightful sugar plum walnut roll looking like fat slices of salami for $17 per lb. but no samples so phooey to that.

April is still stuck in the deli line where she had ordered a hot pastrami sandwich.

Evidently the server, dog like in movement, had frowned upon a soft roll, glancing slowly and bovine-like to the rye bread instead, licking her lips for emphasis, rye being more suitable. Mouth slack and hands limp, the sandwich maker proceeds. Slow movements describe the food mood with the clarity of speech, though through body language instead. Lips smack as correct choices are discussed, but no smacks for wrong choices, April, so watch it! Slow and definite, the sandwich is made whilst conversation takes precedent behind the counter. Moody and taciturn, worker strolls towards the mustard while a pile of sliced meat in hand is flapped. Arms swing, shoulders droop until the sandwich is complete. Now A&J wait. It heats, and finally the sandwich, now wrapped, hovers, swings forward and slowly arcs to our waiting hands.

Free cups of coconut water are sipped on the way to checkout, literally water tasting of coconut, but promising an end to leg cramps.

Finding the car in a haystack of white A&J sit, quietly; they eat. Sated and ready for coffee at the gift card coffee place across the way, April and June walk off 3 1/2 calories. Simple iced coffee trumps frappacinos leaving change for the madelines, chocolate dipped no less. Upon completion, April finds that they have eaten 33 1/3rd of fat and calories for the day. No dinner tonight!

Oh, sure.

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