Girl Interrupted

chiv‧al‧ry [shiv-uhl-ree] The sum of the ideal qualifications of a gentleman, including courtesy, generosity, valor, or the gallant act of being complimentary to a woman.

After a morning of the typical Saturday grind of laundry, sheets, toilets and floors, feeling a little frumpy and overwhelmed, I decided to take a break and go to the mall. The hours of writing and worry are taking their toll this week.

I take an extra long hot shower, shave my legs, sport my best bra and panties, slather on my favorite body lotion from head to toe, throw on my heels and fav jeans. Next, my lucky Banana Republic jacket and scarf. I take extra time with my make-up, hair and say "what the hell" out loud while painting on a rare set of crimson red lips.


I grabbed my sunglasses and took off in my car with Nora Jones "Turn Me On" cranked on the CD player.
Once in the mall, I return some shoes, stroll through some shops and buy myself a Starbies when I feel a slight touch on my arm which startles me. Looking up I stare into the clear blue eyes of a very old man.

"Are you Miss America he asks"? smiling...
.
"What"? I asked confused.

"Are you Miss America...because if you aren't you should be. I watched you walk through here glowing like a shining star...you're a beautiful young lady..absolutely stunning shining like that..."

He stood smiling. From ear to ear in the sweetest most genuine way.

"Are you married? Or just happy"? He asked with a wink.

Before I could answer, he put a knobby finger gently on my lips and said "Shhhh don't answer...because whatever fellow is lucky enough to have your heart, has a lucky horse shoe in his back pocket....."

He picked up my hand, kissed it and walked away.


I don't know why it hit me, one simple comment from a stranger, but I cried in my car because it touched me so. This man wasn't hitting on me, had no ulterior motive, wasn't buying me a drink to pick me up, hell he didn't even have a bad combover.

He just said it because he had to.

No strings attached, no expectations. He said I was pretty because he thought so. He owed me nothing and could have just walked on by never saying a word.

I imagined him as a young man sliding a tiny silver box across the table of a beautiful woman, smiling... telling her how beautiful she was tonight in the glow of holiday lights.

He tells her because he had to.

I imagine him as my own father as a young man, throwing me in the air while I squeal with laughter hugging his neck. He smiles at me and brushes a blonde lock of hair away from my eyes and says "your beautiful..."

The power of a strangers words made me remember that chivalry is not dead. He is at the mall in a red shirt, smiling simply because he has to.

Bra & Order

Last night I decided to go to the gym and work off a little PMS bloat.

Remembering that my gym clothes were in my car from my well meaning plan of going earlier in the day, I decided to change right there.

In the shroud of darkness I preceded to remove my shirt and lacy bra and fumbled around as my boobs got caught in my spandex tank top..(you know that built in bra thingy inside... and how it gets all twisted and caught up in the girls)?

I struggled to find both openings, line them up; while trying not mess my ponytail and still breath.

Starting my car I casually slipped in a CD. I glanced up to see the soft orange glow of my neighbors cigarette as he stood on his deck taking in the whole peep show from a mere 10 feet away smiling.

It was then I realized I had my dome light on.

I simply could not back out of the driveway fast enough.

This morning he gave me a sly smile with a nod when we passed in the street.

Note to self: Never. I mean NEVER assume nobody is watching.

PMS-ing and out of M&M's.

I left a crabby message on the voice mail of a dear friend today. Friend laughed, a true sport. I hate when my other self crawls out from behind the Tampon box and gets analytical and pouty.

Thought my credit card was lost. I was on the phone with the bank all morning canceling all cards attached to it (3). Later found it under my car seat along with 4 French fries, my brothers house key I swore I never had (I had to climb through his window once) and a faded prescription for ADD medicine from 2003. How fitting. The same seat I checked 4 hours earlier.

The dog peed and pooped in the house: twice. My dining room is now apparently a toilet. I might start using this area myself.

Its closer to my computer.

My son remembered he needed to write (and type, double spaced, 14 font with photos) a report at 10:00 PM last night, due this AM, worth 3 test grades and his life.Completed it with visual time lines. I now know all the details of the African- American Renaissance of 1920. I hope I get another "A" on this timeline. The last one I did on the "Silk Road of China" at 2AM was stellar.

Ran out of glue stick half way through again.