Conversations with Consuela

I spend most of my time here in Boone with one particular friend.

In this blog, I refer to her as Consuela.  Not because I want to protect her identity, but because I think that name is fun to say, especially with a southern accent.  Perhaps that's the influence of my preference for Designing Women reruns in the late '90s.

As it happens, Consuela and I spend a lot of time in her car.  She goes to Wal-Mart a lot, and I often accompany her because when I'm forced to go by myself (because Wal-Mart is the only game in town), I try to shank people.

When in her car, Consuela and I have many intellectual conversations.  Due to my general laziness and her ability to be distracted by a shiny thing, they often sound something (if not exactly) like this:

Sara: ...so, that's what I think we should do.  What do you think?
Consuela: What?  Say all that again.  I forgot to listen.
Sara: You're a child.
Consuela: You are.
Sara: Why is there a rotten banana in your backseat?
Consuela: It was gonna be my snack.
Sara: When? 
Consuela: I don't know, shut up.
Sara: You shut up.
Consuela: Stop judging me.  Where do you want to eat?
Sara: Not Mexican.  I had a really upsetting dream about tortilla chips.
Consuela: What is wrong with you?
Sara: I don't know.  Chinese?
Consuela: Ugh, that sounds terrible.  Chick-Fil-A?
Sara: Yup.  Wow, that was harder than it should've been. 
Consuela: What were you talking about?
Sara: I don't care.

I promise you, we're both a lot better at listening to clients than we are at listening to each other.