After three months of staring down squatters who’ve convinced themselves that a $4 cup of coffee comes with a limitless right to occupancy, I have finally — for some unexplainable reason — found an empty seat at Starbucks! It may have something to do with the ongoing saga of “Whose Childhood Was Worse” playing out between the caffeine-charged, exceptionally loud woman sitting next to me and and the person who is obviously challenging her on the other end of that cell phone conversation. However, due to my inability to tune this woman out, I am very curious — as is she! — as to why none of the siblings have bothered to look for the sister who’d gone missing for so many years. And what about Grandma’s spirit?? You mean to tell me that Grandma’s ghost just hung out in the corner of that bedroom in some sort of purgatory-like state until the time was right to tell Jessica to call the wedding off?! And, of course, she did. How could she not! Because you know what Grandma always said — when she was still among the living, that is — “You get what you pick.”

Why did I think sitting in Starbucks sipping on my venti drip with half hot water and room for extra cream would give me a tranquil 50-some odd minutes of blogging time? This has definitely not been the case. It started off so wrong in the first place because, apparently, my barista du jour’s idea of “extra room” is way different from mine. So yes, I was that rude person who poured a little out in the trash for my extra cream-loving homies. Sorry about the trail of cold coffee that will be left behind when you haul out the overstuffed trash bag tonight and find that it sprung a leak.

So my phone just rang and I ended up being the person in Starbucks carrying on a private conversation. Fortunately for me, I was drowned out by my counter-mate and more tales of Grandma from beyond the grave. It turns out my trip is canceled this weekend, so I now officially have zero plans for my actual birthday. I guess I’ll just give my daughter my wallet and let her take me out to dinner. At least I have her undying love until she hits 12 or so….or so I fear. Of course, I still have my belated birthday party at Big Al’s bar to look forward to……unless that gets canceled, too. You just never know.

Off to pick up my kid from art class.


See more from Kellie Rasberry