Telling on Myself

Sometimes I reread a post, and cannot even imagine why people would want to read such pitiful drivel. Yet I continue to see the counter climb. I want to assure you that, in spite of some soul wrenching sharing that seems to work like therapy for me, I do have some good moments (yea, even hours) each day.

I'm also able to laugh at myself, which keeps the journey a little lighter as well. For example, I just figured out I have been one week ahead in my GriefShare home work this entire semester. And this is a repeat of the same class I took last semester. Somehow, it took me six days to piece together that the work I did all week did not mesh with the discussions we had in class. Loyal sister told me not to worry: there were probably people in the class who regularly showed up a day early and wondered where everyone was. (I'm not laughing too hard at that since I was a week early to jury duty last fall, even though I'd scheduled my sub on the right day. Ahem.)

Another interesting event happened last Sunday after church. There was a grocery store near the church I was visiting, so I decided to just get my shopping done for the week. (I continue to repent of my hunter/gatherer ways in eating, and am actually trying to purchase food for the cabinets and refrigerator on a semi-regular basis.) The first chance meeting at this store came on the cereal aisle. An elderly man without a basket struck up a conversation about cereal bars and the varying degrees of additives they contained. I laughed and pointed out that drizzling chocolate on the bars didn't make them healthier, either. And then I moved on to the cheese aisle. Where a basket-free senior citizen male began asking me my opinion on cheese sticks and shredded cheese. I'm sure I had some pithy comment, and moved on to the produce section. Over the avocados and tomatoes, yet another male customer (but I'm playing fast and loose with that term since he, too, did not have a basket) commented on how nice my jacket was. Hmmm. I may be slow, but I am not stupid. After two more such encounters I realized this store was only miles away from a retirement community called Sun City, and these men were spending a rainy, Sunday afternoon trolling the grocery store for conversation.  (If you are local and interested in the over 70 bunch, give me a call and I'll supply the location.)

To add insult to injury, after the funeral last night I went to Barnes and Noble to just get out a little bit. Coincidentally, I had on the same jacket I was wearing on Sunday during the inadvertent grocery store mixer. I asked an elderly man if the seat next to him in the magazine section was taken. "Nope", he replied, "but that sure is a nice jacket you are wearing." I pulled my Southern Living in front of my face and vowed silently to never wear the jacket again. EVER. (And lest you think it is a revealing little number, it is a long sleeved tapestry jacket with a black turtleneck underneath. Because winter has forgotten that central Texas is not supposed to be so cold.) Apparently my jacket is a Babe Magnet for the over 70 crowd.  I need someone to take Memaw shopping  to find some clothing that announces LOUDLY I am still a few decades from retirement.

So, I do laugh and have good moments. And I'm not thinking about changing  the blog to a less joyful name. But I am sticking with my own grocery store from now on.