Charlie

There is a lunch counter next door to my work space on the Mountain. I love the Lunch Counter. The Lunch Counter serves great soups and sandwiches made from scratch--and it is one place people who live up there go to socialize. I also love the woman who owns the place, Debbie. She is smart, funny, and hot. She wears cute little skirts and aprons and she has the bluest eyes and a smile that lights up the world. She knows everyone on the Mountain, and everything there is to know about them. She is also largely responsible for the success of my practice up there, since I did some work for her and the outcome was better than anyone could have expected. When I mention to her that I could use some new patients, by golly my phone starts ringing within days.
She also lets me have access to her kitchen, which is a godsend.
Yesterday as I was happily eating my great lunch of pasta salad and a half sammich, a young man sat down next to me and was lavished with attention from Debbie. He ate his lunch and was on his way. After he left, Debbie leaned over the counter and explained to me:
"He's Charlie's kid--Charlie who owns Charlie's Bar? He had two sons and named 'em both Charlie!"
And that, my friends, is one of the reasons I love the Mountain so much.