Love at First Sight October 2, 2008

I was expecting company at my house later and was in need of a few things.  So, I threw my dirty hair into a ponytail, slid into the nearest shoes (which clearly were not a match to my sweatpants and t-shirt), threw on a quick coat of mascara and lipstick and dashed off to the grocery store. 

I thought it only happened in fairy tales. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a sucker for fairy tales and love conquering all (though every relationship I’ve ever had completely contradicts this), but I have never personally experienced this particular phenomenon.  The “Love-at-first-sight” phenomenon.  But there he was.  Tall, dark and handsome (in just the right amount) and standing by the cheese balls.  Our eyes met (just like in the movies).  We quickly both looked away and then back again.  I could feel myself blushing from head to toe.  (Fine, it was a hot flash, but “blushing” sounds more romantic…)  There was a distinct twinkle in his eye and I detected a hint of a grin as we moved awkwardly past each other. 

 

“Why did I wear these stupid shoes,” I questioned myself as he passed in his business attire.  He was wearing a name tag (not the HELLO MY NAME IS kind, but a badge type thing), but I couldn’t make out the name without appearing too desperate.

I hear it said that the grocery store is a great place to meet people, but, honestly….How on earth are you supposed to make a connection in the produce section?  “Hey, nice onions……wanna get a cup of coffee?”  That’s just a bit too weird for me.  Besides, I’ve been out of the dating scene for about 20 years now and feel like a complete imbecile.

I forgot what I had come for and wandered the aisles in a daze, wondering if I had actually just seen the man I am supposed to marry.  (They say to expect it when you least expect it!)  We met up again at the registers, where I noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring (YES!) I insisted that he go ahead of me in line…he had only one item and my ass is exceptionally huge in these sweats.  I can’t for the life of me recall what that one item was that he was purchasing.  It might have given me tremendous insight into the kind of man he is.  Was it Beano?  Or yogurt?  I was too concerned that he was judging the contents of my cart to notice.  I placed my apples on the belt first, hoping they would block the view of my Cherry Garcia. 

 

I was frantically thinking of some possible way to engage my husband  this guy before he was gone for good.  But I was at a loss.  After taking his change he turned once more to me.  THERE IT IS!  THAT’S THE LOOK!  Eyes that looked upon me as if searching for some answer……I feel it too!  I screamed telepathically.

 

And then he was gone. 

 

When I was finished and ”bagged”, I rushed to the parking lot searching to see if by chance he was waiting for me. 

 

Somewhat sadly, I got into my car.  I glanced at the sad girl in the rearview mirror and saw what he had seen…..

 

A 2 inch long HUGE GOB OF MASCARA SMEARED ACROSS THE  BRIDGE OF MY NOSE!

 

 

I think I may have misinterpreted that encounter.

Goober October 1, 2008

Meet Goober.  My son found her “in his friend’s dog’s mouth”.  What was he supposed to do?  Just leave her there?  I was completely against this.  I have allergies.  I have asthma.  I cough and wheeze all day long without any pets in the house. 

Besides, history has proven that responsibility is not one of my son’s strong suits.  I have no interest in caring for a cat (cute or not), especially when by next summer he (my son) will be heading off to college (God and finances willing) or (if he has his way) to the military.  He brings her home and I spend the next 13 years caring for a cat I DON”T want. 

 

So…guess who has a cat?   Guess who is taking care of the cat?  Guess who spends her days with her head under her son’s bed coaxing the elusive little critter out into the open?  Yup.  Some call me Mom, but you can call me SUCKER.  I have fallen in love with this fur ball who won’t give me the time of day.  Perhaps even young animals can sense my neediness!  Does my constant desire to snuggle this little thing scream “desperate for love in any form”?  My son pays her no attention and she crawls up into his lap.  I jump through hoops for this little bugger, check on her constantly, worry if she feels lonely, try to play, give her Reiki, refresh her water and she runs under the bed.  I’m starting to see a pattern here.  The same thing happened with my ex.

Fine.  I’ll pretend I don’t care.  I’ll be completely indifferent to her presence and maybe she’ll brush up against my foot sometime soon. 

I’m getting myself a stuffed animal.  (That statement was in no way a threat to Goober.)