US, P.S.

I just had the raddest post office experience ever. The same woman has been working at the post office around the block from my house for years. I see her there every time I have to send a package, or an oblong shaped letter (such was the case today). Sometimes the line is out the door, but today it was non-existent. As I approached the counter, I noticed something: "Ah, I love Chet Baker!" I said. (This is the truth: I love him probably more than I love Miles Davis. I have a lot of feels about jazz music.)

"Me too. Wait-- How old are you and how do you know about Chet Baker?"

So we get into a conversation as I hand her a taped and cut up Voodoo Doughnuts box (which is actually a letter to my penpal) about how lovely jazz music is, and how I can't seem to keep my crooners straight, and that we both have the same favorite radio show. (Divaville, WHATUP!) And she goes:

"This is my Divaville radio station."

"Shut up!" She then shows me her phone, which has a Pandora station that's LITERALLY called "Divaville Radio."

There is now a line forming, because the two of us are fangirling really hard about Blossom Dearie singing Johnny Mercer songs and how much we enjoy mid century vocal jazz. Then I did something I never thought I'd do...I introduced myself.

It seems strange half knowing someone for a long time, but not really *knowing* them.

Anyway, shout out to Rae at the Westmoreland post office, you rock!

Happy finding kindred spirits~!

-Mac