It has been an day full of petty annoyances. But then February tends to be a particularly annoying month in this part of the world. After a long run of gloriously warm & lovely days/the weather has turned cold thanks to La Nina. (But only for the next 72 hrs./according to the local weather prognosticators.) The temp today was only in the upper 60's/which was fine if you were standing in the sun/but rather brisk otherwise due to sudden unexpected gusts of wind. I spent the latter part of the afternoon at the Greek Glendi festival at St. Barbara's church down the street/which was worth it just for the huge, delicious slab of Spanikopita they offered for only $3.00 (the only way that I'll eat cooked spinach) & the chance to get a guided tour of that beautiful Greek Orthodox church I pass every day. (It was built only 7 yrs. ago/from donations made by a mere 250 families in the area. Which means the few Greeks in this town must have serious bucks. They also raffled off a BMW & an a Caddy -- both donated. So how come the Black churches here can't manage to come up w/such goodies?) I cannot remember the last time I saw the inside of a church before today. Shay's christeneing perhaps? No -- it was at a Sunday service at my homegirl's church on L.I. Which was more than 4 yrs. ago. Standing beneath that enormous domed ceiling & all those marvelous icons today/I shd probably have felt vaguely ashamed of myself for such a prolonged absence from God's house. But even as a child/I always remember feeling that anything as grand as God cd not & shd not be worshipped indoors. If God made the sun & the moon & the earth & the sky & the stars/what business did mere humans have trying to worship the Creator in any place constructed by human hands/much less a place w/a roof or a ceiling? Afer returning to home to make dinner & play w/ the cat/I blended up some Margaritas to ward off the impending invasion of menstrual cramps/ /then went upstairs to climb into bed/finish the newspaper/& read the more interesting offerings from this week's latest magazine arrivals. (Movieline/The Atlantic Monthly & Essence/for those who care. I'm already sick of reading abt Angeline Jolie/whom Hollywood has apparently crowned the next It Girl. Two months ago/it was it was Charlize Theron/on the cover of Vanity Fair. Both of them look like some 13-yr old's wet-dream of what a woman shd be -- all boobs & mouth w/bodies like little boys. Who picks these chicks anyway?) I called my girl in The People's Republic of Brooklyn @ 11:30 & was glad to find her not at home on this Saturday nite. Then I finally succumbed to my craving for Wavy Gravy & headed out to the supermarket. There I am in the local 24-hr market in my pajama top (yr basic Forest Green oversized cotton t-shirt/complete w/bleach stains from scrubbing out the showers when I 1st moved into this place) & a pr. of very ratty grey thermal leggings (my 'winter sleepwear'). And sandals /becuz this in FL after all/& you can wear sandals year-round/even when it's 50 degrees outside/& not look odd.) My hair (seriously overdue for a date w/Miss Clairol. Becuz covering my grey hairs is my one consession to feminine vanity. Until the South 40 starts turning grey/which is when I shall finally resign myself to middle agedom/stop excercising/& adopt a dozen cats to spend my declining years with) was piled up on top of my head & percariously secured w/a bobby pin in an effort to tidy-up my bedhair at the last second. Actresses & models go to chi-chi hairdressers to achieve that last- minute just-twist-it-up-w/the-ends-sticking-out-&- go thing & end up looking casually sophisticated when you see them on E.T. or in some magazine. But I'm not an actress or a model/& who hell cares what they look like at 12:15 a.m. on a ice cream run, right? So I'm leaning over the ice cream section of the frozen goodies bin/digging thru the product to find a pint of Wavy Gravy. And of course/there is none. No Dilbert's Totally Nuts either. And I'm getting pissed. Muttering aloud to myself abt how I only eat this stuff once a month/& the least the damn supermarket can do for someone who shops there practically every day is to keep all the flavors of Ben & Jerry's in stock at all times. Esp. at this time of the month. I finally settle on NY Super Fudge Chunk (which it not a bad compromise, really) & head back to the registers at the front of the store. There's only one cashier on duty as this hour. I was fiending so bad for some B&J's that I hadn't even noticed that at some point my hair had come loose. Who gave a rat's ass/so long as I scored some ice cream? And I'm standing there on line/behind some rather run-down looking woman buying Enfamil @ 12:20 a.m. And a guy in front of her who aparently lost the coin toss & was forced to make the beer run (2 six-packs & a big bag of Doritos). Then suddenly/I feel a hand on my shoulder. Not a tap-tap kind of thing. But fingers trailing themselves down my shoulder/barely touching me. A touch that was intimate yet hesitant at the same time. And I turn around as a gorgeously warm, brown voice says to me "You dropped this." And there standing behind my is Adonis himself/offering me my wayward bobby pin. Abt 6 feet tall/black hair flecked w/grey/short in front/curling softly against the base of his neck. Mediterranean looking -- probably Italian or Greek/or maybe Latino. Late 30's to mid-40's. Huge hands -- like a longshoreman. But too well-kept for a laborer. A gold ring on one finger -- I didn't notice which hand. Dark brown eyes/like mine -- so dark you cdn't see the pupils even from 3 ft. away. (I've always wanted light brown eyes. Or those odd blue-grey eyes/ like my brother's.) And smile to beat any sunset on the beach any day. So he handed me my bobby pin/just as the cashier sang out "That'll be three dollars & nineteen cents!" for my B&J's. (Where the fuck do they find these preky little 20-something yr-olds to work a register in the middle of the night on a Saturday? What planet do they come form? Someone needs to tell Mulder & Scully...) And I was dumbstruck. Me -- Miss Motormouth /A Mile A Minute w/the schtick & wise cracks. I cannot remember the last time I saw such a beautiful man in the flesh. I cannot remember the last time a man has touched me. Anywhere. No less in Kash & Karry. I paid for my ice cream & left. I think I managed to whisper a thank you before fumbling w/my change & walking away. I have never felt like such a loser in my life. Becuz I should've at least made some conversation w/the guy. Found out his name. Hoped he'd ask for my phone #. Or given him mine. But all I cd think abt was "Here is this gorgeous man & I look like hell & my toenails are raggedy & my grry is showing & why is this happening to me NOW?!" So ma I an idiot destined to be alone forever/or what? Have I totally lost my ability to comunicate effectively w/the oppostie sex? Or am I just an idiot/plain & simple? And am I always & forever going to spend all my Saturday nites alone w/a cat or a book or a computer? (Mind you -- I was not so distraught over this thatI cdn't finish half the container of B&J's. But I would've done that nayway -- Adonis or no Adonis.)

happy valentine's day. dark-brown eyes are pretty. women used to drink belladonna to make their pupils larger. dark eyes are like all pupil all the time. lately as I've been going to sleep I take an inventory of all my physical flaws and how much money it could possibly take to have them surgically corrected. and if I could ever sit in the waiting room at a plastic surgeon's office and be forced to admit that I'm one of those vacuous women who care too much about their looks.

rc, i've said it before. when you aren't looking, you find. which is why i say that you will see this man again. have no fear.

No, you're not destined to be alone. You may latch on to Mr. Right at age 55 plus. Is that wrong? Do we have to follow the 1950's format? Get engaged in our junior year of high school? Live out the wedded monster if we hate our spouse? No we don't, fuck that! I have watched many of my high school friends' marriages head DUE south because of all the travesties. At this day and age, there is no optimum time to feel the urge of that permanent bond. So don't even go there. Don't make me send you a round trip ticket to visit this shitty cheese holy-land to straighten you out( I know I'd come out on the short end...it's a given ). Life doesn't begin with a mate when your ice-cream obsessed nose is lifting out of the freezer section. It's a rather wonderful fantasy, but get a grip...where have I heard that before?:)? R.C.-- We aren't the Haagen-Daz type, we go for the plain and simple...

Thank you Pink for yr encouragement. But you must realize that I'm not a kid anymore. I'm 30-fucking-8 yrs. old! Half my live is already behind me/assuming I make it to by 70's. And I see all sorts of cretins & mouth-breathers who aren't alone in the world. If they can find love/why can't I? I certainly deserve it as much as anyone. Is it so unreasonable to wanna hook up w/a marvelous man while I'm still reasonably healthy /reasonably sexy/& reasonably optimistic enuf to have the faith to fall in love & sign up for the everlasting hook-up? Rather than meeting Mr. Right when I'm a bitter old retiree w/my breasts swinging down to my knees & my ass dragging 3 ft. behind me & liver spots? If worthwhile nobody wants me now/who the fuck is gonna want me then? Life's best experiences are more enjoyable when shared. Esp. B&J's in the middle of the nite. Y'know?

what's a mouth breather?

The folks you see wandering around slack-jawed, 'cuz they breathe through their mouths and not through their nostrils.

The implication being that due to arrested evolution/they are only able to breathe thru their mouths. Like animals. (Or becuz they've been sucking on a crack pipe for so long they can't remember how to breathe thru their nostrils.)

which animals?

The four-legged carnivorious kind, mainly. I suppose most primates breathe thru their nostrils. But this still fails to explain mouth-breathers like OB. Or why I clutched when faced w/the opportunity to chat up a gorgeous guy in the market. *sigh* I remember what I wanted to ask you, Sheila: Do geese & ducks always mate underwater? Never on land? Seems like it must be terrifying for the females to be half-drowned in the process. If I were a goose/I'm afraid I'd have to pass.

all animals having nostrils use them for breathing. including birds and reptiles. why would you think other animals breathe through their mouths any more than we do? i am mystified. as for the goose sex, they prefer it in the water, and the sound and sight of running water stimulates their sexual activity. the female is usually held under by the male, but sometimes another goose will climb on top of both of them and form a threesome. they can also mate out of the water, and they do. on the porch, in the vineyard, the horses' paddock, the iris beds, the tack room, the pole barn, the tractor shed, and anywhere else. but they prefer water, and if you put a dishpan outside they will use it for sex. if you were a goose, you would enjoy or at least tolerate underwater sex. you would do the dance afterward and honk.

heh. imagine that.

I usually breath through my mouth...sinuses, you know.