Journal Post: The Orange Juice Lady

Today was similar in the first half to Tuesday, which you can look at at your leasure. As I found myself waiting for the nice fella to come and teach me to dance Saya, I once again found myself situated not more than five feet from the Orange Juice selling Trici (pronounced= tree-sea) lady. Since I was dressed in a shirt and tie after work, I figured I´d go all out and puchase myself a glass of OJ. I cost one sole (roughly 30 cents). It wasn´t bad, pulpy, with a hint of fear about contracting some disease or parasite. I chit-chatted with her for a bit, apperently, she has been in the OJ business for about a year. She starts the day in the morning fairly early about three blocks up the street from where I see her, at the gas station. Then, about midday, she pedals on down to in front of the police station (the comiseria). The previously mentioned taxi driver that fixed her tire is her husband (that might mean they are just shacking up, but for all practical purposes, married). I asked if there was any use for the rinds (which were all hung orderly fron the front ¨roof¨ part of the trici- side note, she peels the orange with some kind of twisty mechanism that leaves one long complete rind). She said no, she just throws them away. Interesting. So there you go. OJ Lady.