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Her Brush with GreAtness

Shelley rode with her bicycle club this morning, a little while ago she was telling me about the ride. They stopped at a Starbucks and she saw someone she knew, but couldn't figure out how she knew him. She said, "I know you!". He asked "where might you know me from?". Through the Postal Service? No, never worked there, but "I do go to the post office down the street". Maybe through a club, or mutual friends, or.... no. They chatted while he waited for his coffee, she never did put her finger on how she knew him, but she was sure that she did

As she's telling me this story, a stunned look came across her face, and she blurted, "Garret Anderson! It was Garret Anderson!!! Garret Fu@%in' ANDERSON!!!!!" She pounded the table in frustration - "I was talking to GARRET ANDERSON!!!"

He must have been snickering inside, imagining at some point she was going to have this epiphany. I'm pretty sure if she ever runs into GA again, she will be able to tell him exactly how she knows him.

(And I apologize for the lack of spacing after punctuation - I've been trying to fix it for a long time and I've been reminded it's time to put up Christmas lights!)

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

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