Tantalizing

Our family of four ventured out for an early breakfast yesterday. Afterwards, my husband suggested a Sunday drive up to a quaint shopping village on the Delaware River. I decided to go despite the pain in my face and chest. We walked around in the super clear sunshine until we were glossy with sweat and our bags were filled with preppy fashions. My darling daughter wined the entire trip, since I wasn’t in the mood to suck in steam from the old fashioned engine, while chugging around the surrounding towns.

Later that afternoon, an ice cream coned soothed her tongue and our tortured ears. Then we made the mistake of wasting two hours watching Talladega Nights. We chilled in the impressively air conditioned theater and I laughed twice. My husband and my son thought it was a funny film. I wish that I hadn’t exposed my ten-year-old daughter to this moronic spoof.

I love the idea of poking fun at racing, shallow nonsense and product placement. I was just hoping for more than a couple of chuckles. Ricky Bobby (Will Farrell) strips down to his tighty whities and runs around like a maniac. He also kisses his nemesis, Jean Girard (Sacha Baron Cohen), on the lips. I was happy to see them smooch only because Jean’s annoying fake French accent was silenced for a few seconds.

My life hasn’t been too eventful this summer other than my visits to doctors and specialists, watching my daughter’s swim meets and my husband’s softball games--and waiting for my son to return from a week in Disney World and then five days in Nashville.

I took my daughter to the grocery store today, while waiting for my husband and my son to return from a volleyball tournament. A tall, attractive black man who was wearing a stunning suit approached me, as I pushed my sparsely filled cart out of the store. He smiled at me and said, “You know those scenes in a movie when you see a beautiful woman having her hair blown back from her face?" I probably had a surprised expression as I replied, “Yes.” He continued, “Well, It felt like one of those moments when I saw you walk out of those doors.” I felt a smile licking my lips, as my eyes glanced down at the floor. I whispered, “Thank you”, as my daughter followed me to my car. My posture improved a little, as I felt the strength of my long stride and the feminine sway of my hips. A full smile bloomed, as I loaded my groceries into the car.

The next time I cross the threshold of the air blasting vents, I’m sure that I will remember his handsome visage.

Now I’m drinking a leftover light beer from a poker tournament that I recently hosted for my husband and his pals. I don’t even like beer.