Right Place, Right Time (Extended Version)

A cool thing happened to me this afternoon. I got a free large diet cherry-limeade from Sonic ’cause I was their “Customer of the Day.”

Sonic Diet Cherry Limeade

Sonic Diet Cherry Limeade

I don’t know if it was random or because of my mad ordering skills, but being as this is Sunday and e’erybody done gone to Church and learned about being kind to their fellow men and women, SURELY, I wasn’t the first polite person to drive through? That’s unthinkable, unlikely, and just unbelievable.

Which means it was RANDOM. I haven’t won anything random since the 4th grade when I won an electric drill playing bingo at the Negreet Halloween Carnival.

(According to the critics in my household, I left out the funniest part of the story. So here it is:

When I won that drill, my parents thought I’d stolen it (because 8 year olds with no prior criminal history tend to start stealing DRILLS– not cakes, candy or glow-in-the-dark purple spider rings) and made me take it back to Mr. Miller. Who, of course, confirmed that I had indeed WON the drill playing bingo. Fair and Square.

Ha, ha. My parents scarred me for life. But, your turns coming… I’m gonna get you and your little cat, Misty, too.)

I’m not saying I haven’t beaten astronomical odds before, but unlike today’s prize, I’m pretty sure I DID something that led to their existence:

Against All Odds: Two Incredible Children

Against All Odds: Two Incredible Children

As the final quarter of this year gets started, I want to say I’m so incredibly grateful for my family, my friends and my health. I’m thankful that I live in the United States of America and am a resident of the great State of Louisiana.

Some days I don’t think I can make it another minute (usually those are very, very hot and dry days) and other times I wouldn’t change a thing.

Hope you enjoy Burn the Honeysuckle by The Gourds (I don’t think that’s them fishing).

About Laura Alford, PhD

I'm a recent graduate of LSU (PhD in Accounting). In addition to academic research, I also write fiction on Tuesday nights with the Asilomar Writers.
This entry was posted in Children, family, Louisiana, weather and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Right Place, Right Time (Extended Version)

  1. Susan Sands says:

    Congrats on your great fortune! I don’t remember the drill incident, which puzzles me.

    • I was excited about the free drink until I realized it negated any positive karma I had accrued toward winning the lottery. Yes, drill incident was at the end of the carnival. You’d likely gone home already. With your cake from the cake walk.

  2. Darla says:

    I miss Sonic!! And I am intrigued as to what bingo playing forum for kids has electric drills as one of the prizes? Perhaps an evolutionary move? And you survived!

    • Darla, this was the 70’s. when I grew up, high school kids could smoke if they brought a note from the teacher, we had pool tables in the break room, all boys had pocket knives and most had shotguns in the back of the truck parked in school lot (squirrel hunting after school.). We also left the school everyday and crossed the highway to buy snacks at the store– accompanied by teachers.

      Our principal played the guitar in a band so he’d do the cake walk. You’ve never done a cake walk until you’ve done it to a live version of “white Lightning” or “Johnny Be Good.”

  3. Those were some good times– we didn’t even have a stop light, so it was a lesser village than Coushatta, if you can imagine that.

    And if California doesn’t have Sonic, then I’ve no need to go. Except to see the redwood forest.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s