All Up in My Grill

On the corner of Grace Street and Ryland, a man stops me by putting his hand up.

"You have to be the best looking woman getting in shape out here walking," he says. "And I see you around here all the time!"

"Cause I walk every day," I explain, smiling. "But thanks."

"And another thing, I like your grill," he tells me. "I like your smile. It lights me up inside every time I see it."

Last week a guy complimented me on my great gams and after I thanked him, I teased him about using such an old-fashioned word.

Being complimented on my grill must be my new-school cosmic payback.