She was in today, the lovely and perfect Lara, the Russian beauty. God knew what he was doing making creatures like that. She brought a purchase up to the counter when our eyes met. I’d know that look anywhere. But she is married and was with her blue-eyed blonde daughter. Still, the electricity is there, it always has been.
There was a small tear in the fabric, she said, after mentioning that she thought I was a computer genius. I replied that was not so, but that, “For any woman who felt that way my appreciation knew…” – stop in mid-sentence. We had both leaned forward to see the tear and for a stunning moment our heads were just inches apart. We froze as we realized what had just happened. In that instant we had both turned instinctively so our lips might have met.
We both recovered instantly, but neither of us drew back. There was nobody else in the world for that missing heartbeat. No husbands or daughter or ceremonies, we could feel each others breathe on our necks. I finished the sentence, “…no boundaries”. She repeated, “No boundaries”. Gone. We went on about the business.
I can be grateful nobody was around. How is that for a description from a computer genius? This morning I had dropped past Coffee Time, and legs was there, another Slavic beauty I can only gaze at from afar. Sigh, and she was wearing those cutoffs that go to the knees, what were they called. Culottes, something like that? It would not matter what she wore, but again, I still cannot figure out why there are no young men hanging around all the time. Something is amiss.
Dickens pulled one on us. Somebody donated one of those “Safety” men, the mannequin that single women put in their car to look like they are not alone. Personally, I’ve never met a woman who had to do that. So he takes it, puts it in the wheelchair (I forgot to take a picture) wearing a neckbrace (cervical collar) and parks it by the door as I walked in. Jesucristo, that thing is life-like. I moved it outside, where several customers said it had stared them down. Ha!
Dickens was in with his dad to pick up a drill, one of the upsides of owning a thrift store is you never lack for tools. Jack, the taxi driver was in to buy a lamp. That Barbie computer I fixed up for him last Spring, guess what? He lent it out. To a person who just needed it to go online. That unit, Jack, was totally gussed up to be the perfect Internet station but you never called me back to network it. He says “She loves it to go on eBay.” Kiss it goodbye, Jack, you will never get it back now. I remark again how nice a computer it was when I got it apart, it was designed as a learning tool sold with Barbie dolls.
I’ve got an article (finally) about the $80 per hour program that Martha was telling me about. It is a federal government program for kids who are falling behind in math and reading, but from what she said there is more to it. I can certainly teach anyone how to read better using a computer. The article is not clear on who is doing the work right now, but it is plain that somebody with inside information has formed a teaching group with exactly the required qualifications. Likely paying the teacher $20 and skimming the rest. For overhead, I mean. Which really means that is almost to the penny what my overhead would suddenly become if I get on the receiving end.
Sadly, I report another lost recipe. It was a smoothie from the leftover banana from y’day at JPs. I remember the big ingredients. That is not what made the drink, though. Um, one banana, one-half green apple, one black plum, a half cup of black coffee, one can of lemon-lime diet soda (gone flat), vanilla, sweetener and a dash of nutmeg. With ice. Great juicy fruit flavor so maybe I’ll try that again some day.
There are some new people up at the west end, real goobers. They were going through the dumpster over by the laundry room. They “tawk” like Canadians but seem too young to be here on winter holidays. I pulled my bike out for a few extra miles. The greyhound track is opening the back gate again. No, I am not racing around their oval. What they have is a huge parking lot over a mile in perimeter. It is a cycler’s dream, smooth, flat and mostly empty all the time. A lot like the hands of a civil servant.
I’ve seen the security guards in golf carts notice me making the rounds. If they ever get nosey, there is no way they could catch me now. I’d like to see them try, because I can go faster on the straightaway, corner sharper and I would make a bee-line for the parking pylons they can’t fit between. No ten of those fat bastards could take me once I’m on my bike. Freedommmm!
I see Target is advertising a digital camcorder for $77. That is below the parameter I’ve set for buying one. Yes, I have a short list of equipment that I will buy once it falls below a certain price, and the camcorder spec was one hour for less than $100 in a standard format. The ad failed to state the details, but except for that bizarre Apple “mov” thingee, I am confident I can decode anything.
