What Can Brown Do For You?

Laura was surprised to see the dark shape of Sukey, the brown cow, standing at the barnyard gate. Ma went up to the gate, and pushed against it to open it.
"Sukey, get over!" She reached across the gate and slapped Sukey's shoulder.
Just then one of the dancing little bits of light from the lantern jumped between the bars of the gate, and Laura saw long, shaggy black fur, and two little, glittering eyes. Sukey had thin, short, brown fur. Sukey had large, gentle eyes.
Ma said, "Laura, walk back to the house."
Ma ran with her into the house, and slammed the door.
Then Laura said, "Ma, was it a bear?"
"Yes Laura," Ma said. "It was a bear." - Little House in the Big Woods

So maybe that morning the bear got up late and didn't have a chance to wash her hair and she put on a cap, and it was cold in the Big Woods, so she had to put her brown fleece jacket on to stay cozy warm while she strolled around the barn looking for a venti skinny vanilla latte. And then Ma comes outside and starts calling her a cow, saying "Move it, Sukey!" and smacking her on her big bear butt, which she has been a little sensitive about lately after a fall of eating fat, tasty bunnies.

It could happen. I'm just saying maybe we should look at it from the bear's perspective.

This morning I had an early morning "meeting" with a friend of mine who enables my Starbucks addiction, but I am not much of a morning glory, so I pulled on my trusty brown corduroy cap, which is both stylish and fall-like. After surviving 40 winters in the Midwest, one would think I am used to the dipping temperatures at this time of year, but alas, I am a creme puff. (Did someone say Creme Puffs? Drool.) So I pulled on my equally trusty brown fleece jacket and a scarf and headed over to the opium den the world knows as Starbucks. And I did get a skinny vanilla latte. And it was delicious.

After my "very important business meeting" was over, I drove to my local car dealership for a scheduled oil change in my family minivan. Because I rock that minivan. I left the keys in the ignition and Linkin Park turned up in the CD player so that the guy who would be changing my oil would understand that I am a tough mother. Don't even try to upgrade me on unnecessary wiper blades or the most expensive synthetic oil produced. I'm onto you people. Because I listen to Linkin Park. The connection is very clear.

I walk into the service area to check in my van, and there is a lovely little old lady and her daughter in front of me, deep in discussion with the service bay manager. The check-in area is behind a cinder block half wall, so you can only see people from the waist up. I'm peering over the cinder block wall, looking at the various vehicles up in the air and thinking about how fun it would be to stay in the car while they change the oil, drinking coffee and reading my book while the lift raised and lowered, when I hear someone ask me a question.

ME: Smiling in direction of questioner, a guy who works there. "Huh?"
GUY: "Do you need me to sign something?"
ME: Still smiling. "Huh?"
GUY: Walking closer. "Do you need me to sign something?"
ME: Getting confused. "Huh?"
GUY: Walks around cinder block wall, wiping his hands. Gives me a once-over, and he turns red. "Uh, okay, they'll be with you in a minute."
ME: Smiling again. Oblivious. "Okay, thanks!"

I stand there for a minute, take a drink of my coffee, and look down at my brown arm. And then I think about my brown cap. And I realize that he just mistook me for a UPS driver.

So much for stylish and snarky. He thought I was delivering those fancy new fexor valves. (Because it's all about ball bearings these days.) I was not a Hot Momma, as I had envisioned in my cute corduroy/fleece/Linkin Park world. He was coming to see what Brown had done for him. To make myself feel better, this is how I think it was really going down:

(Porn movie base playing - Bow chicka wow wow...)
GUY (Looking like CH or Edge): "Do you need me to sign something?"
ME: "Oh yeah. I have your package. Right. Here."
GUY: "Then let me sign it for you."
ME: Slowly unzip my brown fleece jacket. Unbutton sexy UPS shirt.
(Bow chicka wow wow...)
GUY: "My lift is raising." He grabs a can of Castrol 10w30.
ME: I wink. Unclasp brown UPS bra. Breasts fall out and smack against concrete...SCREECH! Fantasy over, due to aging and gravity. But at least he didn't call me Sukey and smack my hindquarters.

And I guess that's all Brown did for me today. You can bet I will be wearing my stylish gray cap and black fleece tomorrow instead.

This is the last Laura Ingalls Wilder post - thanks for enduring LIW Month, and you can sample a little Linkin Park, "In The End" on the player.