What a Girl Wants

Brett is always accusing me of talking to strangers in public places, like the supermarket, restaurants, department stores - basically any "public place" that I find myself.

I know this to be untrue.

For, as blue as is the sky, I know I do not purposefully strike up conversations with random strangers.

But that, however, does not detract from the fact that random strangers seem to have no problem striking up conversations with me. As much as I try to avoid this situation, for fear of becoming the babbling old woman talking to anyone who will lend her an ear, there are times when it is simply unavoidable.

Sometimes, well most times, I get engaged with a lonely soul and leave the said "public place" grateful that I don't need to go to the grocery store for therapy, unless a case of juice boxes and jarred applesauce counts as therapy. I usually realize that, wow, there are a lot of people out there in the world with nobody to talk to and I am thankful that I have friends and family to confide my troubles in so that I don't air all my dirty laundry in the check-out line while the girl I went to high school with (the biggest gossip in town) rings up my groceries.

Each time I approach the check-out stand, I fear that this will happen and I try as hard as possible to hold my tongue. Take today, at Target (the other thing a girl wants), for example.

"Should I scan you?" The woman who should be retired, sitting at home in her Laz-y Boy recliner watching Judge Judy on afternoon television asks me.

"Yes, yes you should," I say, glancing back to see if my husband is listening and noticing that I did not start this one, "I am sure that I am very expensive."

"No, honey, for the wine."

"Oh, um, well, YES! Definitely. You should definitely scan me for the wine," I stumble.

"Well, I never know if I should or not. But you look really young," she says - at which point I would like to put her in one of those large-sized Target shopping bags and bring her home to dish out compliments like this one for the rest of my life.

"I think if you card any woman over 25, you're doing the right thing," I tell her with a wink.

And then I add, "And don't EVER call them m'am - that is the worst thing EVER!"

"But what should I call them then?" She asks.

"Call them all young lady even if they are 99."

At this point, Brett and Katie have left the area - too embarrassed to be seen with me - the lady behind me is laughing and the store clerk is beside herself.

She hands me my receipt and bags and then says, "Have a good day, miss!"

"Thanks, you too, young lady!" I answer, leaving the store to find my family, which, obviously, I am waaaay too young to have, after all, I did just turn 21!