40 - Love

I was born with a forehead that reads, "Tell me anything," anecdote #648.

So there I am standing in the organic chip aisle at Kroger, wondering for the second time in a week why they're out of Red Hot Blues, my favorite spicy blue corn chips. Is it as simple as a supplier shortage, has Kroger disavowed them or have they ceased making them because I am in the minority of those who like their corn chips spicy?

I'm startled out of my reverie by a voice inquiring, "How old are you?"

When I pivot, I see a woman standing in front of the supplements and vitamins, a box in hand. I'm curious why you're asking, I tell the stranger.

This is when the words, "Tell me anything" begin lighting up my forehead and she takes it to heart.

"I'm 57 and I just started dating this man," she begins in a conspiratorial tone. "Now, we haven't consummated anything yet, but he doesn't use, you know, condoms. And I don't believe in abortion. I don't believe in birth control, either."

Two things occur to me. First, surely this woman I've never laid eyes on isn't asking the world's biggest relationship failure for dating advice and second, how many 57-year olds worry about birth control?

She extends her arm so I can see the box in her hand: all natural prenatal vitamin supplements.

"If there's going to be an accident, we're going to have a healthy baby!" she assures me, tossing the supplements into her cart. "Better not take any chances with the baby."

Go for it, I tell her. Take charge of your body, especially if you don't want this man to keep it in his pants.

But mainly, I'm impressed that this woman who doesn't believe in any sort of family planing apparently has no qualms about pre-marital sex. Even better, I admire that she's optimistic enough to think pregnancy is a possibility.

Wishing her the best of luck with him, I continue shopping. When I get to the check-out, there she is in line and graciously waves for me to go ahead of her since I have fewer items.

"Do you play tennis?" she asks and I laugh out loud.

It's the skirt I have on - an athleticwear skirt with shorts built in and a gift at that - that no doubt caused her to guess I had even one athletic bone in my body. No, I can walk long distances but zero hand/eye coordination, I tell her, placing my groceries on the belt.

Turns out she teaches tennis to the 40+ set on clay courts in Northside ("Much easier on our knees") and she suggests I give tennis a try. Her confidence about my tennis potential is matched only by her positive attitude about the results of sleeping with this new man.

We are soul sisters in unfounded optimism. Introductions are made and email addresses exchanged.

I couldn't turn off the sign on my forehead if I wanted to, but the truth is, why would I want to?

Record High, Record Low

Cocooning goes against my nature. Who do I talk to if I'm home alone for days?

What I mean is, I woke up knowing that I was going to start my walk by heading to Kroger, not because I was in dire need of anything - although I did have a craving for waffles and I'm out of blackberry jam - but because I knew it would be an experience. Hell, earlier this week I got asked out just walking out of Kroger.

Trudging up Clay Street, I saw a girl headed back, toting two heavy-looking  Kroger bags. How bad is it, I wanted to know. "Really, really busy," she said with a smile. "Crazy busy."

Perfect, company!

I was amazed that they still had bananas, but not a single egg or rasher of bacon. "No eggs, what's wrong with these people?" a man asked me, shaking his head in disgust. The number of people clutching frozen pizzas was ridiculous.

Walking home with my jam, I passed half a dozen people making the trek toward Kroger and every single one of them spoke to me.

One girl wanted to know how bad it was and whether she had a chance in hell of getting what she needed for lasagna and baking cookies. One guy just rolled his eyes and told me without provocation that yea, he knew he was nuts for going today. Further up, a guy shoveling his walk invited me back for a chili party. An older woman wished me "happy snow day."

Snow makes everyone so friendly.

I detoured by Nick's Market where there was zero sandwich business, but several neighbors busy picking up groceries rather than facing the chaos of Kroger. While I was paying, they got a call from a Baltimore supplier saying they wouldn't be coming on Monday to make deliveries.

First world snow problems.

When I got home, I did the least logical thing: I cleared the snow off my car and shoveled the sidewalk and walkway, not because there was any point in it, but because of my Scottish girlfriend Irene's cardinal rule. She says if you're cold, get up and vacuum and you'll be warm in no time. Snow shoveling is the outdoor equivalent.

Back inside, I was trying to decide between reading and my to-do list when I saw a friend's post.

"I can now spend the rest of the weekend on the couch, as I organized my spice/baking cabinet. I have a WHOLE ROW of extract that is not vanilla."

Her friend responded, "Have thoughts of cleaning out my dining room hutch, but just in the thought stage right now. Maybe if I am bored tomorrow."

"Do it! It's so satisfying!" my friend goaded her. So, yes, I succumbed to that inexplicable urge that hits some women on snow days and got busy hanging pictures in the hallway and making phone calls I'd been putting off. Scrubbing the bathroom top to bottom, including the floor on my hands and knees.

She'd been right. It was incredibly satisfying, I immediately sat down and read two days' worth of the Washington Post, both of which had been delivered today. Snow news dominated.

Looking out the window, I saw that my car and walkway were again covered. Time to fetch the umbrella (ignoring the Canadian who'd told me back in the big 2009 snow that it was silly to carry an umbrella in the snow), go for another walk and see what was happening in the Ward.

In the hallway, I inhaled the heady scent of baking bread, alerting me to how my neighbor was passing her afternoon.

Once on the street, you know what I found happening in J-Ward? Pretty much the same stuff that happens here any other time.

A guy stuck his head out the door of his English basement to pour out the remains of a friend's PBR and we got to talking (he's given up drinking). Clutches of people were gathered on porches, drinking and talking. From inside a house, I heard a band practicing. A guy complimented my umbrella. GWAR Bar was just getting going.

Downtown was a ghost town except for people getting on and off buses. Vagabond had a sign saying they were closed tonight- "sorry for the inconvenience" - making me wonder why they didn't just acknowledge they'd be closed Saturday night, too. Surely another 24 hours of this weather all but guarantees they won't be open tomorrow, either.

Passing a guy with just a jacket on and no hat or umbrella, I was tickled when he smiled and asked if I was enjoying this wonderful weather.

Sure am. My only regret is that my beagle's not here because he adored the snow, so we'd walk five or six times on a day like this, his tail up and nose down sniffing in the snow.

Back home, I  busied myself clearing my car and shoveling the sidewalk, not that it'll make any difference besides momentary warmth and personal satisfaction.

And since I'm also not lowering my blinds today - it's far too charming a view not to enjoy all evening - I can watch my hard work undone by Mother Nature.

My work is finished, but tonight's Fretful Porcupine show has been canceled. Time to read...at least until it isn't. Cocooning is hard for some of us.

It Was the Curve of the Red Pears

My life: random episode number 7,835.

Shopping at Kroger, nature calls.

I drop my basket near the vitamin aisle for safekeeping.

As I head to the restroom, I find myself behind a woman with a pained look on her face.

A male Kroger employee is coming out of the bathroom looking resigned, with his mop and bucket in tow.

The woman has apparently knocked and asked him to leave so she can come in.

When she sees me approach, she says, as if in explanation,"On a scale of one to ten, I'm a seven in needing to go."

It's all yours, I tell her.

When I exit, the first thing I see is a guy rifling through a basket exactly where I left mine.

As I get closer, I see it is my groceries he's touching.

That's my basket, I tell him, in case he's confused.

"You have really good looking stuff," he says looking sheepish and standing back up so he can scuttle away.

Really good looking stuff?

I look down at my basket, seeing a bag of spinach, a dozen eggs, some thick-cut bacon and a half dozen red pears and apples.

Good looking stuff?

When I mention it to the cashier when I check out, she raises an eyebrow.

"Is he a stalker or something?" she inquires.

Not that I know of. He just thought I had really good looking stuff.

All available for purchase, as far as I could tell.

"Have a good afternoon," she says, handing me my bag. "Watch out for weirdos."

It's a little tough while I'm using the facilities.

I Feel the Earth (and Petunias) Move

My favorite thing about the earthquake? People's cell phones were useless.

Sadly, I was not in J-Ward to experience the quake in my 1876 house, which would have also made it through the last big Virginia quake of 1897.

No, instead I was standing in line at the Lowe's garden center in Carver waiting to pay for petunias.

As the "event" started up, the couple in front of me looked at me, their eyes as wide as saucers. I'm sure I looked just as confused.

We stood there with the cashier as the concrete floor underneath us shook violently.

Since the front and one side wall of the garden area are open, we felt like we were experiencing the quake both inside and outside.

None of us dared utter the "e" word because we don't have earthquakes in Virginia. Right?

Leaving with my petunias, I went on to Kroger where I saw plenty of puzzled people rooted in place trying to get their phones to work.

Bemused look on my part.

Back at home, nothing seemed askance. No books had fallen of the wall of bookshelves. Candles and picture frames were still upright.

Only the art on the walls told the true story. Every single picture was askew.

Art righted, I went to the Byrd House Market where everyone had their "where were you?' story at the ready.

In between checking out Amy's Garden pre-made salsa baskets (assorted peppers, onions, tomatoes) and tasting Soul Ice (mango flavor), everyone wanted to talk quakes...or hurricanes.

I stopped by the Triple Stamp Press table to say hi to friends and got their stories. At the Pizza Tonight booth, we didn't bother with quake talk and went straight to pork talk.

While looking at the dried chicken fingers at Dog Town Lounge (knowing how much the beagle would have enjoyed them), the owner told me about her research into the seismograph map of this afternoon's event.

Gee, it had only been two hours, but I guess you have to do something with your time when your phone doesn't work.

I arrived home to a message from a county-dwelling friend saying, "I feel kind of ripped off." He'd been getting gas and never felt so much as a twinge.

"There better be another one soon," he said hopefully.

No, no, silly. Next is the hurricane and then the plague of locusts.

Christmas Eve Morning Observations

It's not often I get to do my Christmas Eve (or Christmas day) walk in the snow. In fact, I can't remember a time I ever have, although I've only been walking for ten years. The streets were fairly quiet, as I anticipated, but several things gave me pause.

The line at Sallie Belle's on Grace Street was a dozen deep by 9:30 and they don't even open until 10. They close at 3, and I'm almost tempted to wander by in the 2:00 hour just to see the crazed last-minute customers. I have to assume that their traditional baked goods must be essential to some people's holiday festivities.

Although the south-facing streets are in decent condition to walk, the north-facing ones are still quite covered in snow. I saw a large cactus plant, maybe two feet high sticking out of a snow mound. All I could see were the tips of the cactus leaves and needles with a crust of snow. Did Mother Nature intend for this to happen? I also got a smile out of a "Keep Off the Grass" sign nearly covered in snow. If there's grass underneath, it was nowhere in sight.

Unfortunately I had to go to Kroger, where pandemonium reigned. A stranger said to me, "I can't believe we were stupid enough to leave this for today!" I'm with you on that, honey; what was I thinking? The aisles were a traffic jam of people, many of them clearly not pros at grocery shopping and impeding the progress of the rest of us. Lots of customers wore Santa hats and everyone was unusually friendly and pleasant, though, so while it was challenging to get in and out, there was a certain festive air to it all.

I already know what a difficult holiday this is going to be, given the hole in my life, so I'm not expecting a great one. I'm just hoping not to dissolve into a complete maudlin mess while making my way through the rest of it.

Bring It On. I'll Be Busy.

A forecast of four to ten inches of snow in Richmond causes some people to act so oddly that it provides entertainment value for those of us not as inclined to get our panties in a wad over some winter precipitation.

When I walked by the Kroger at 10:30 this morning, it was mobbed.

And by mobbed, I mean like day-before-Thanksgiving mobbed.

Kroger is undoubtedly having a banner sales day.

When I arrived home from running errands around 1, my landlord had already been by and scattered oodles of a noxious ice-melting pellet mixture all over my steps.

And porch. And sidewalk. And walkway. I think I'm good now.

Walking the dog, I spoke with a couple of neighbors just coming home from work.

Both told me they are in for the weekend, as in, not leaving the house for any reason. Right.

I, on the other hand, accepted a friend's invitation to eat dinner somewhere together tomorrow night.

He lives a mere two miles from me and we figure that between his house and mine, we will be able to find an open restaurant tomorrow evening, even if we both have to walk to meet.

But we will meet.

I also got an e-mail from another friend wanting to meet for brunch late Sunday morning.

Did I hem and haw about planning to meet in the aftermath of the Great December snowfall?

I did not. We made our plans without a second thought about the forecasted weather.

Please excuse my lack of concern for the impending doom of snowfall.

As a guy from Connecticut visiting RVA told me last night, Richmonders are so cute about snow.

Cute is not what I aim for.

The General Specific

All of a sudden, it's November and the time has changed and it's getting colder at night.

And of course the business of life continues, random, sometimes surprising and always worthy of comment in my world.

I made a point to get out and vote, knowing most people weren't going to bother and most people didn't.

At my polling place there were six poll workers and two voters.

I will never understand people choosing not to exercise such a crucial right, no matter how lackluster the candidates.

Crossing the street during my walk yesterday, a guy drove by and gave me a full-on wolf whistle, just like in the old cartoons.

Really? In yoga pants and a hoodie?

Thanks, but I hardly think I earned it, fella.

The Dashboard Confessional show next month at the National, for which I already had a ticket, got cancelled, er, excuse me, "rescheduled due to family issues."

Seriously? Come on, guys, classic emo knows no freakin' family issues.

Walking through the Kroger produce department, a guy said an unexpected hi to me and I gave him a mega-watt smile and said hi back as I made my way to the cheeses.

From behind, I heard him say, "That smile!" to his friend.

You were right, Mom, people appreciate a smile.

My friend Scott and I celebrated his new marketing job with lunch at Garnett's today (I had the Louisville Hot Brown, the Derby classic, and it was scrumptious) and we finished with the chocolate/coconut cake, undoubtedly my top two favorite dessert ingredients.

Chocolate icing on the sides, dark chocolate ganache dusted with coconut on top and white icing with coconut in the center.

We both moaned a little enjoying it...then took a long walk in the November sunshine to make ourselves feel better about having eaten so much.

Nothing major to report, just the usual observations and oddities.