In preparation for Paris, That’s Not Chinese and I decided to get International Driving Permits. This process includes obtaining a passport photo. I headed to Walgreen’s for my photo and, like a criminal, stood against the white back drop with my head held high, but that wasn’t enough. “I need to see your ears,” the employee advised me. I hadn’t heard this before, but I obliged and pushed my hair back over my shoulders. “No, you need to tuck your hair behind your ears. I’ve got to see the tips.”
It wasn’t until I was with That’s Not Chinese at AAA, actually obtaining the permit, when I noticed they took passport photos and decided to ask about it. “Is it required that people show their ears, tips and all, in their photos?” “No, not at all,” the associate responded. “I knew that girl was up to something. She must have some weird ear fetish. Show me your tips. Maybe she said tits and I misunderstood.” “Are my ears showing in my photo,” asked That’s Not Chinese. “Nope, I just checked. When did you get this taken?” the associate asked. “Oh, just barely. I can’t remember exactly when. Maybe a month ago. No, a little bit longer than that. Two years ago,” she replied. “That is not just barely. Show us your tips,” I told her.
As we left with permits in hand, the associate wished us well and added, “Make sure to show everyone in Paris your tips.” “Oh, I will,” I assured him.
I then came home to pack. Translation: think about packing, look at books, sew things, google stuff. I was about an hour into this when I received an invitation from Oreggano to attend a porch party – immediately! I, of course, immediately headed her way.
Upon arrival, I found Oreggano and Patty Melt enjoying wine spritzers on the porch. Cream of Tartar and Le Chauffeur were in the house, “probably cuddling,” said Oreggano. They eventually emerged to prepare dinner for us, however, when they returned to the kitchen to make our plates, Oreggano totally busted them. Apparently they weren’t speaking kindly about relationships, specifically marriages. Oreggano returned to the porch upset by their behavior and sharing ‘words’ with both of them. “Put this in the blog, ‘there was a fight in the spice cabinet.’ That’s right, Cream of Tartar and Oreggano are not getting along,” she informed me.
Cream of Tartar and Le Chauffeur eventually had the courage (and desire to smoke cigars) to return to the porch. With my recent acquisition of an International Driving Permit, I had a lot of questions for Le Chauffeur. “Why don’t they have seatbelts on school buses?” “Do you talk to the kids when they get on the bus?” “Do you use the radio to make announcements?” “How do you start the announcements, ‘Welcome to the bus, I am Le Chauffeur’?” Apparently, this, combined with the fact that both he and Patty Melt were envious of the upcoming Paris adventure, was all a bit too much for Le Chauffeur. “I hope they put you on the ‘No Fly’ list,” he told me. “Uh oh. Better check your purse for a knife. I wouldn’t be surprised if he put one in their to trip you up at security,” Cream of Tartar quipped.
It was at this time that we all went our separate ways. Cream of Tartar and Oreggano found their place, side by side, in the ‘spice cabinet;’ Le Chauffeur warmed up the car and safely drove Patty Melt home – both of them wearing seatbelts – no radio announcements were made; and I went home and Googled things.