And I'm Proud To Be An American...

On Saturday I decided that I needed to go to the Victoria's Secret Body Shop at the nearby mall and pick up more of my favorite lotion. I like to go, as with grocery shopping, bright and early, so as soon as the mall opened I was there. I always feel so odd going into Victoria's Secret, especially when their store is both the lotions and lingerie store, however, my mall deemed it worthy to break it up into two so I didn't need to look as if I were buying lingerie for that special mate, or myself, though the state of my undergarments are not to be desired, but that's for another day... ooh, nice long rambling sentence.

In the store I dab this and that on my hands, trying to look as if I'm interested or undecided on what to buy, even though we all know I know exactly what I want. I'd rather that they had the bottles where you opened them and sniffed instead of attaching a lotion pump so that I'm forced to pump it into my hands. The little signs say 'play with me' on the bottles. Cute. Anyway, after a few minutes I snatch up the body butter, instead of the lotion, because it looked as if it would make my skin more buttery (bad mistake, by the way, but it's all in the smell, it actually does make me feel more buttery) and walked out of the store smelling like a thousand fields of Heaven, Lavender, Pink Buttercream Frosting, Strawberries and Cream, and Lust.

I walked around the mall and a big banner caught my eye, it was from Auntie Anne's pretzel kiosk. They were giving away free pretzels from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. I've never had an A. A. pretzel before and was tempted to get a nice cinnamon one but I felt that 10 o'clock in the morning was not appropriate time for cinnamon pretzel eating. However, I did approach the counter and asked if they were insane, or words to that effect. They replied that it was just a promotional thing they were doing. So I rushed out of the mall so that I could drive home to tell Soobee.

Walking to the car I looked around and saw three beautiful boxer dogs running on the strip of grassy ditch that separated the mall from the highway. They were too far away to see if they had any tags on. One dog was in the lead, running and running, but the middle one stopped and was looking around in the grass, which caused the third one to stop and look around as well. The lead dog turned to check if they caught up and realized that they had stopped, so he/she turned and went back to the others. They then muddled around conferencing and I think the middle one pointed out the nice shrubbery in the ditch, just before the fence, and all three of them made their way into it. Now they were in the ditch so I couldn't see them any longer, so I got into the car and drove closer to the ditch, and saw all three of them huddled under the shrubs resting or hiding. I then drove home.

We never got the pretzels.

Me.

When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box.

Today, as I was going for my daily drive around the neighborhood, I realized that the older I get the more afraid I am of doing things, the closer mortality seems.

I wonder if the closer I get towards death in age will I not feel scared of dying, in fact coming face to face will I be brave and embrace it like a long lost friend? As if I could cash in the years of dread for that single moment or gradual acceptance and anticipation of what is to come.

I was driving, safely, just at the speed limit, not minding that someone passed me and thought that at sixteen I was so far from death that I never even thought of it, I would speed down a boulevard, passing all the over-20-year-olds, laughing and singing at the top of my lungs, swerving this way and that.

Now the danger in things jump out at me and I try to be careful when I drive, softly cursing people who could endanger this vessel that should keep me for another 50+ years.

I'm feeling the birthday blues and have lived too long with people who worry too much.

Me.

Rewiring

I have apparently lost or never been taught the art of feminine guile and charm. I've been butting heads with Rich and myself, creating a lot of ill feelings for both me and others. It's been an ongoing thing these years, stemming from childhood.

Mom and Dad would both shake their heads sadly and say I just didn't know how to manipulate people, or I didn't know how to be a 'politician' (mom's words) and would tell me to go over to someone and say 'oh auntie so and so that is a very nice dress you're wearing' and in some way make nice for future favors or something of that sort.

So today, after some review, I drove over to local bookstores and purchased a few books. One is on the art of flirting, and how to use it to get what you want. The other one basically boils down to the same thing. I've started reading the flirting book and am a quarter of the way through and I have to admit that it is common sensical and easy to read and can actually help me. It's great!

So I'm off to read it, but you already knew that since you're a smart and adept reader.

Me.

No Wonder My Mom Uses Fabric Softener Sheets

So, I'm walking out of our local Publix (supermarket) with a cheery smile on my face, it was a lovely morning, sunshiney and not yet too hot. I had had a pleasant time there with the workers smiling and greeting me and not too many people about since it was a Tuesday morning. I said 'hello' to everyone and was having a good old time.

As I was walking to my car I looked at my reflection in the driver's window and noticed something dangling from my shirt. When did I don a loin cloth, outside of my jeans no less? (I was wearing an old brown shirt that once was Mike's and a pair of jeans.) I looked closer and finally looked down at myself and saw to my horror that I had one of my knee high stockings clinging from under my shirt by sheer force of static electricity. It hung down onto my jeans like a used, old, brown condom stuck to me.

Chalk it up to embarrassing moment of the day.

Me.