A woman without a chair

Thanks for all the birthday wishes. Twenty-four hours in and forty-two seems like it’s going to be okay even though I had to pull out three stray gray hairs. I realize you’re not supposed to yank them out, but I’m not getting my hair colored again until September 5th and no way was I going to let them just hang out there for that long.

Yesterday was just what I prefer in a birthday. In other words, it was a low-key affair. Mexican food, cupcakes, and some birthday cards. P had my present covered because I announced months ago that I was buying myself a ticket to the A&M/Alabama game for my birthday. I will tell you it was slightly more than $15 and I’m praying the NCAA doesn’t ban Johnny Manziel because that was kind of the whole point – to watch him play Alabama again after Nick Saban has had a year to prepare for him.

And Caroline spent most of Tuesday holed up in her playroom making something for my birthday. It turns out that she painted me a beautiful picture, but based on all the supplies and odds and ends I saw her carry into her playroom over the course of the day, I’m a little afraid to see the current state of that part of the house. No one will ever accuse her of being neat and tidy. But I bet Picasso’s mother used to say the same thing.

In non-birthday related news, I have made a sad discovery.

Please keep in mind that sad may be a relative term.

Last week when Caroline and I were driving home from Port Aransas, we made a quick stop at our neighborhood Starbucks because we were both in need of a frappuccino. Before you judge me, I’ll clarify that she gets one that is cream based, not coffee based. I find that too much caffeine makes it hard for her to focus when she’s driving the car.

Oh I kid.

Anyway, we pulled up in the parking lot in front of Starbucks and I immediately noticed that it was under construction. However, it was still open for business. So we walked into what was essentially a makeshift version of your average Starbucks. Totally bare bones. Just a counter and the little section where you can add your Splenda or whatever. No tables or chairs at all.

I asked the girl behind the counter how long it was going to be under construction and she said several more weeks and then directed my attention to some drawings on the wall that outlined the future layout of the new and improved Starbucks.

And that’s when it hit me.

This is not just any Starbucks. This is my Starbucks. The one with the plush, green velvet chairs tucked away in the corner where I have written not just one, but two books now. And now the chairs are gone. They’re not coming back. In my mind it kind of feels like they should have earned a space somewhere important, like maybe next to Fonzie’s jacket in the Smithsonian. But in reality they probably ended up in a dumpster behind Banana Republic.

The worst part (as if it can get worse) is that the new configuration doesn’t seem to include any type of plush chair. Just tables and chairs. I realize that most people probably prefer this, but I need a comfy chair. My creativity doesn’t flow the same if I feel like I’m sitting at a desk. I blame the year I spent working in a cubicle for a door sales company where my soul almost shriveled up and died.

My point is I’m in mourning. And I need a new place to write. The chairs were the draw for me. I even stuck by this Starbucks when my retired friend decided to start going to a Starbucks closer to his new house. Granted, it wasn’t the same not starting my day with a debate about Kate Middleton having a baby or learning something new from the articles he used to tear out of various newspapers to share with me, but I stayed because of the green chairs.

Now there’s nothing left there for me. I am a woman without a Starbucks.

Actually that’s not true because there are at least four of them within a veritable stone’s throw of my home, but please stick with me while I’m being overly dramatic.

I just need a comfy chair that is not located in my home. Preferably leather or velvet. At an establishment where they serve coffee.

And maybe the occasional pastry.