The Great Cookie Caper

You might miss this in your news today, so I want to tell you all about it. Pink and I pulled a caper today. (Pink is my VW New Beetle, for the uninitiated reader. Pink. It's her color and her name.) We delivered the goods, see. It all went down like this, see. (Doing my best James Cagney impression.)

My friend's adult child has a business associate, and this man did something extraordinarily helpful for my friend's child. She knows the man casually as she has met him once or twice. The way we moms operate is like this, see. You do something nice for our kid, you do something nice for Ma. She emailed this man to thank him, and he graciously replied. Still, she wanted to do something.

Around this part of town, see, you do something nice for us, we reward you with food. It's how we roll in this 'hood, see. (Transitioning from 1940's gangster to modern day gangsta.) Remember that swell dame at work who gave me all the clothes? I did some detective work. In the break room one day, she was talking about how much she loves chick peas, also known as garbanzo beans. I very innocently asked, "Do you like hummus since it's made out of chick peas?" Then a few days later, she was chomping on some chicken that had pesto on it. So this smart cookie put two and two together, and made her some homemade hummus and homemade pesto and put it in a really beautifully decorated bag with a lovely card. (Lapsing momentarily into Susanspeak.)

Getting back to my story. My friend decided to make some of her ridiculously delicious cookies for this nice man. She was going to mail them, and then I suggested that I deliver them to his office. She loved that idea, and thus began The Great Cookie Caper.

She packaged the cookies up beautifully, and I put them in Pink and off we went to downtown San Diego, about twenty minutes away, obeying all posted signs and speed limits. This nice man's office is in a swanky part of town called the Gaslamp District. I had some cash money in my purse, cuz if you're gonna pull a caper, using a debit card for parking leaves a paper trail. I was able to park right outside this man's office, put a quarter in the meter which gave me 12 minutes, more than enough time to drop off the goods. I have to say, Pink was the perfect cookie delivery mobile.

"Good Morning!" I said to the receptionist. "I have a delivery for Mr. His First Name His Last Name." I'm all professional, talking like some classy educated chick.

"He isn't in right now," the dame replied. I smiled, playing along, and asked, "Would you kindly give him this and let him know it's from My Friend's First and Last Name." She said she would, and I thanked her and asked her for her name. She replied, "P.J. Like pajamas." Now she is one smart cookie not to give me her real name, right? I said, "Thank you, P.J. Have a wonderful day."

I got in Pink and called my friend, not while I was driving, because I don't talk on the phone while driving. Ever. I called her "Mugsy," even though that is not her real name. I talked to her in code and said, "The snow dog barks at midnight as the eagle lands in San Diego." (The snow dog is a reference to her beautiful yellow (almost white) Lab, whom a little neighbor boy called the snow dog.) We talked for a little while, she called me "Roxy," but hung up before the call could be traced.

Then Pink and I drove away into the sunset, or rather into the partly cloudy mid-morning. I was exhiliarated to pull off such a caper. Really. My friend couldn't have picked a better person for this caper than this girl.

How about you? Have you pulled a caper of kindness lately? You could give yourself a cool name. But just to let you know, P.J. and Mugsy and Roxy are already taken.

Susan