The day promised to take on a nice flavor as Virginie drove past a sign that read "chicken soup parking" with an arrow pointing to the right. Virginie pondered chicken soap parking, she wasn't aware that chicken soup could drive. After dropping Henry off at Sunday school, Virginie searched for driving and parking chicken soup to no avail. Although Virginie continued to imagine driving and parking chicken soup, it was time to move on to other pursuits, namely, a vigorous walk on the trails of Hollingsworth Green. Her walk would be enhanced by listening to music on her iPod Touch on Henry's Beats by Dr. Dre headphones - a listening experience like no other - pretty much a music O. She asked Henry the day before if she could borrow them and he said hell to the no. Virginie understood. But this morning he handed her the headphones and said if you break these, you better get your credit card out and be prepared to spend $300 On Amazon. Ah, what a sweet gesture tempered with just the right amount of teenage love and affection.
Virginie drove into the Hollingsworth Green Parking lot which was completely empty on this blustery Sunday morning. She parked (probably not as well as chicken soup)and remained in her car for a moment to connect the headphones extraordinaire to her iPod. Two local sheriffs parked (probably better than chicken soup) and approached Virginie's car. She rolled down her window and asked if there was a problem. The sheriff replied "you can not park here unless you are a resident of Hollingsworth Village." He pointed out that several signs are posted - Virginie could read and she ignored these signs - this was a law she did not mind scoffing. Virginie did not share that view with the sheriff, instead she explained that her son attended Sunday school just down the street and she had hoped to take a walk to pass the time. To which the sheriff replied, "you can't park here - it's the councils decision, but if you park across the street, you can walk here." Great, Virginie replied as she complied. The sheriffs waved to her in approval as they passed her now appropriately parked car.
The Hollingsworth Green is the green space surrounding the abandoned and now boarded up Holly Hock Country Club. The club house is in disrepair and the oh-so-special parking lot is inundated with a plethora of deep and cavernous pot holes - clearly the residents dues, if there are any, are not going into repairs and maintenance. And, maybe just maybe, the residents are attempting to protect the outsider's, like Virginie, tires, but Virginie surmised that the ordinance gives the sheriffs something to do on slow days and Sunday mornings.
Virginie's walk was great, she loved the blustery air, challenging hills, and listening to love songs on the Beats - oh those beats. Love songs had meaning for Virginie as she was newly in love. Virginie's mind did wander some, however, to ponder the lunacy of not being permitted to park in the Hollingsworth Green's parking lot. Virginie thought that she, and other non-residents, should be the ones to park in the Green's almost always empty enormous parking lot. Shouldn't the Hollingsworth Green residents choose the green, and more environmentally friendly, option of walking to the Green? Hollingsworth Village is small, and most, if not all of its homes are close to the Green.
Activity loomed large on this Sunday morning as Virginie discovered that the Temple, where Henry attended Sunday school, was hosting a chicken soup cook off. The Temple's parking lot, and the drivers that filled it, resembled New York City at rush hour. A few sheriffs were directing traffic, but they could have used more - perhaps the time the sheriffs spent with Virginie at the Green would have been better served managing the rude and raucous chicken soup crowd. Virginie searched once more for driving and parking chicken soup - it was a logical assumption that she would find some - nope.
