Whenever my wife, Jane, is asked where we live, she replies, Santa Barbara. The new acquaintance inevitably smiles, and Jane continues, “It’s where God would live if she could afford it.”
Last week, I had to go to Isle La Vista, and Jane called and asked me to pick up a carton of milk. I walked into the first market I found. Instead of milk, what I found was almost every kind of beer sold in the world. Row after row of cans with names like Juice Monster, Atomic Tornado, Mind Haze, and Hopsmack were neatly stacked in cases throughout the store. No milk, though.
I walked to the front counter and asked the clerk if his market sold milk. He gave me an incredulous look and asked, "What for?"