Lulu's Sandbar

Bitsy Creations made me some new ads so I can get the word out a bit further about my etsy Sandbar - you should take a look at her store.  Thanks Bits!

Speaking of checking things out....when I walked into the gym tonight, two thirtyish guys walking out did the total head-to-toe checkout thing, and I'm thinking, "Wow, ok, maybe I still have it."  And I strutted a little bit into the locker room - and then, naturally I tripped and dropped my water bottle and it spilled.  But they didn't see.  So I was still a little proud of myself - I've been working out hard!

Of course, the conversation that they had as they walked out probably went like this:

Guy #1 "Man, I was so busy selling widgets today, I didn't have time for anything personal."

Guy #2 "Like what?"

Guy #1 "Oh well, you know, I had to check Match.com, and find that girl's number...and there's something else I have to do this weekend, but I just can't remember.. "

Guy#2 "What's that?"

Silence as they walk by me and check me out.

Guy #2 "So anyway, what were you saying about this weekend?"

Guy #1 "Yeah, I remember now - gotta pick up something for Mother's Day.  For my grandma."

Yup, probably.  

Who do I think I AM, anyway??!!

Have you ever had someone say that to you, oh so indignantly?  WHO do you think you ARE, ANYway???  Hmmmmm???!!  Just who do you think you ARE?!

And they say it with that hint of scorn and high-falutin' self-riteousness.....as IF!

 Well. Huh.  Let me THINK about it.  I'd like to THINK that I'm a kind, generous, smart, funny, strong woman who loves to read, likes to be productive, wants to be a best-selling author or famous artist, hopes to be a decent, loving, wicked cool family member and some days, just barely clings to the edge of insanity until someone pushes me into the abyss.

But I could be wrong.  Who do YOU think I am, Miss Smuggy Workout McPants with your clothes scattered all over the bench in the locker room at the gym? How DO you sniff quite so indignantly, as you gather up your underoos, shoes, makeup and is that a pack of flavored thongs falling out of your purse? to allow me an inch of space to perch my tired butt while I tie my shoes.

Apparently, you think that my membership card is somehow less than your card, and that your card entitles you to be rude while my card entitles me to wait until you are completely done with your grooming before I can enter your space.  Even though I'm not worthy.

Seriously.