I am milquetoast, hear me roar (maybe)

It appears the saga of the stove on our back porch may soon have a happy ending.

No, I can't quite believe it, either. In fact, I'm almost afraid to note this possibility here, for I am so sure the owners of the appliance store will change their minds back to "Hell no, the stove won't go!" again.

My last salvo in the stove situation was on Thursday, when I sent the store a copy of my SuperPages.com and Better Business Bureau reviews, along with a note quoting Dale Carnegie (one unsatisfied customer = 10 lost sales). But I had sent similar "inspirational" missives to them before--and even had the dear people from the consumer affairs division of the District Attorney's office calling on our behalf--and they were unmoved.

So, when I listened to our voice mail yesterday, and one of the messages was from the store--asking to schedule a time to pick up the stove and drop off a check--I had Linda listen to it, too, for I couldn't quite believe my ears.

Truly, I have no idea if my latest letter did the trick--perhaps they heard from the credit card company, perhaps someone called them to say they heard about our situation and it kept them from shopping at the store.

Who knows?

It doesn't matter. What does matter is that our back porch may soon have a lot more room in it, and our kitchen might soon have a new stove that actually fits in the old stove's spot, not to mention matches the rest of the appliances. Woo!

And what has been a thorn in my side may soon be an accomplishment of no small measure. To me, anyway. (We Midwestern types don't get our assertive on very often, and do so at great peril to our agreeable little psyches.)

Being a rather cynical sort as well as Midwestern down to my marrow, if this does come to a good end...no one will be more surprised than I!

On other fronts, we went to a Don McLean concert last night, a reward courtesy of Big Company (it's a big sponsor of the local symphony, so has season tickets to spare). We went largely because it was free and offered a good excuse to eat at Cafe Lebanon--not because we're big fans of Mr. American Pie. When his band came out--all late middle-aged men in suits, except for the drummer--I was a little worried. And when the drummer--who was dressed like a 20-year-old, but with a full mane of silver hair--had to put on his glasses to read the introductory music, I thought to myself, "Oh goddess, what's this going to be? Lawrence Welk for Boomers?!"

Well, I was mistooken. We had a great time. Don M. is a tremendous performer, even though he is definitely on the wrong side of 50. His voice was perfect, and his lyrics as evocative as any I've heard in ages. And he has the sort of self-deprecating wit that makes his genius less daunting. True, he has a worrisome comb over that suggests a vanity at odds with the wonderful human being he seems to be, but who doesn't have an inconsistency (or several) in this life?

The song about Van Gogh, "Vincent" ("Starry, starry night....") was a highlight, but then, his rendition of "Crying" was a killer, too.

This weekend has been full of surprises, eh? Will keep you posted regarding the stove--it's supposed to happen Wednesday afternoon. We shall see....