Always Be Prepared

Let me tell you about my Safeway. It's small, crowded, and regularly out of the necessary ingredients. It caters to singles, but more so the widowed kind than the 20/30 something kind. But it's across the street. So I go. Often.

After a quick shower, I realize I need some things from the Safeway. Hair barely brushed and dripping, I dash out of the house, sans even a stitch of makeup.

I grab a basket on the way in and begin examining the fruits and vegetables when I see a cutie by the oranges. He walks by, not a glance in my direction. Hmm. He must be in a hurry (Suuure Dauntless).

I see him again in the pasta aisle and he's heading straight for me. Alright boy, you better believe I'm gonna say hello to you. Mmm Mmm. Big smile Dauntless, big smile. "Hi."

"Hey".

Now we're heading in opposite directions, me smiling to myself, very proud of saying hello and hoping to see him again in the bread aisle. Still patting myself on the back, I arrive in the frozen food section.

Searching for some cherry popsicles, my focus shifts and I catch a glimpse of my reflection. There I am, in all my frizzy, pale glory, staring back at me. I am a mess. I proceeded to spend the next five minutes acting like I can't choose which damn popsicles I want while I use the glass door to desperately twist up my hair and pinch my cheeks.

Alas, it was all for naught. My chance had come and gone.

Always be prepared.

Get Noticed. Even if it's not Pretty.

Recently, one warm spring evening, “Riley” and I joined the throngs of neighbors already walking their Fidos and Muffins around the community for some much needed exercise. I diligently clicked and treated Riley, hoping to break her of her pulling and jumping habits as her trainer had instructed.

Inhaling the sweet smell of lilacs, I floated along, content as could be. That is, until I saw him. The good-looking neighbor from down the road. His arms were weighted down with groceries and he was 30 feet away and closing in.

My heart began to pound as I mentally reviewed what I would say,

“Hi” No, my nerves will make it sound too high-pitched.

20 feet.

“What’s up?” No. Too casual.

10 feet.

Shit! What should I say? “Hey”. I’ll say hey.

5 feet.

Just as I opened my mouth to form the greeting I had decided on, the slack in the leash became taut and I realized in horror that Riley had decided on a greeting of her own. Ignoring the treat in my left hand, she leapt up on the handsome stranger, front paws landing squarely on his stomach.

“Ooof”.

I immediately admonished Riley, but was too flustered to mutter an apology for her (probably because I hadn’t recited it).

After we were a safe distance away, I glanced at the handsome stranger’s retreating form, turned to Riley, and whispered, “Good girl.”