With the shed still locked and the key nowhere to be found, I solicited the expert lawn care of Oreggano and Cream of Tartar. In exchange for their fine whacking work, I provided them dinner.
We decided to dine on the stoop because the weather was great and we wanted to teach Cream of Tartar the tricks of the stoop trade. As cars drove by we would yell “holla” or “slow down;” the latter being used regardless of the rate of speed. Cream of Tartar was nervous about doing either, however, eventually gave up fear for temptation and shouted out a shy “holla” to a car driving by, with their windows rolled up.
It was about this time that a loud noise came from his phone, alerting him of a text message. “Wow, that’s loud,” I told him. “Is that your new phrase?” Oreggano asked me and then told Cream of Tartar and Mini Me, “She said it to me earlier.” “I’m just not used to hearing a sound like that, especially that loud. My phone is on vibrate,” I told her. “Of course it is,” Cream of Tartar quipped.
Prior to joining us on the stoop, Mini Me had thoroughly enjoyed watching White Chicks, girl loves the brothers. She had been hoping to go to Italy next year and just learned she would be going to Bulgaria instead. “What exactly is in Bulgaria?” she asked us. In unison, Oreggano and I replied, “Bulgarians.” “That is exactly what I was going to say,” Cream of Tartar told us. We decided to “become smarter,” (Cream of Tartar’s phrase) by Googling ‘Bulgaria.’ In doing so, we learned that many Bulgarians are extremely racist, particularly toward blacks. “I don’t like that,” Mini Me told us. “Agreed,” said Oreggano and added, “The Black Sea is the only black you’ll see there – not a sea of brothers.” “Maybe you’ll meet someone in Greece,” Cream of Tartar told her. “Yes, then you can be in a movie called My Big Black Greek Wedding,” Oreggano said while giggling. “Oh, that’s a good one. You should write that one down,” Cream of Tartar advised me.
As I was writing it down, a bird quickly flew above Cream of Tartar’s head. “Slow down,” he shouted. The birds continued to fly by and loudly chirp to each other. In addition, Mama Finch was flying in and out of her penthouse. “Do you ever think about eating those eggs?” Cream of Tartar asked. “No,” I told him and added, “But sometimes I eat eggs while watching the birds. Do you guys know the difference between brown and white eggs?” “No,” said Oreggano and suggested, “Let’s Google it.” “Now we’re on to something,” said Cream of Tartar. “We’re becoming smarter.”
Turns out the color of eggs is a result of the color of the hen and, beyond that, there is no difference. While online, I saw an article about a horse herpes outbreak that resulted in rodeo queens riding stick ponies instead of horses. I shared the story with the stoop group. “Why wouldn’t they just ride sheep instead?” Cream of Tartar asked and, before waiting for an answer, asked a follow-up question, “How many horses?” “13,” Oreggano replied. “No, how many horses are there in the state of Utah?” he reiterated. “13,” Oreggano repeated. “No, I mean total. How many horses are there in the state of Utah?” he asked again. “I don’t think they do a horse census,” I told him. “They should,” he said and then received another text. “Wow, that’s loud,” Mini Me told him.