Talking To Strangers

Against all advice to the contrary, I often find myself talking to strangers.  To the husband standing or sitting by the dressing room doors while wifey tries on something new, I might say, "They also serve who only stand and wait."  To the elderly gentleman wearing Madras plaid Bermuda shorts with black dress socks and wingtip shoes, "Whaddya say, Sport?"  If a child says, "Excuse me," or some other polite comment, I might tell the mother, "You're doing a good job."  While shopping yesterday, an older dude in a cowboy hat and waxed mustaches six inches long to either side (no, really!) was humming a happy little tune as he went up and down the aisles.  When I passed him several times in different areas and he was still humming, I finally told him,"You've got to control this unbridled joy.  It's contagious and pretty soon you'll have the entire store infected!"  At the grocery store later, I saw what the woman ahead of me at check-out was buying and ran back to pick up a like carton, and told her, "I was fighting temptation so well until I saw your Rocky Road ice cream, and I lost the battle!"  It's amazing how a throw-away line can put a smile on a stranger's face.

One hundred-three degrees yesterday.  I hated to leave the dog and cats in the house, but I did a runner and took the air-conditioned truck to town.  The day before I'd gone to the feed store but hadn't unloaded a bag of feed, just too damned hot to face it.  It wasn't until I'd made the first stop to pick up Bessie's heart-worm meds that I saw the bag still in the truck bed.  Then, of course, I worried about leaving it unprotected.  There doesn't seem to be much of a demand for lactating goat chow because no one ripped me off while I made other, lengthier stops.  It's still in the back of the truck, still too hot to put it away.

In one regard, writing these daily entries is another way of talking to strangers.  It's all about making someone smile.