It was the query from the Amy’s girl (Libra) at the airport. Lovely Pisces dropped me off, and I had a few extra minutes to kill. One security guard noted that my boots were handmade (in El Paso). I slipped on a wedding ring, and I was good to go.
When I stopped at Amy’s, I watched while a pair of young engineers complained about going to Padre, “No, see it’s a conference. Over the weekend, on the Gulf coast.” No sympathy from anyone?
So I get up, and this is the second time it’s happened, the Amy’s Super Scooper asks, “How you doing?”
“Small Mexican Vanilla.”
“No, ‘how are you doing’ first.”
I smiled, realizing the game’s afoot.
“So what’s your birthday?”
