First of all, would you please go over to Miss Doxie's place and write her a little condolence note. She lost her doggie, Tasha, to a sudden illness and is having a rough time. Thanks. While you're there, you might also want to buy something from her store - she's got the most adorable paper products and fun dachshund-related toys. Seriously, humour me and take a look.
Conversation between clueless, well-meaning person and me - Could also be titled "Why I Avoid Talking to People Unless it is absolutely Necessary"
CWMP: (tapping child-related magazine) "Child rearing. You know anything about that?"
M: "Nope." (Smile fading, gritting teeth)
CWMP: "Ahhh, c'mon, you must know something about it..."
M: "Oh, yeah, there is the one thing - 'avoid at all costs." (smile thinning, executing half-turn, but unable to totally walk away due to silly notions of respecting your elders, manners)
CWMP: "Nooooo, really? But you'd be such a good mom."
M: "Really? how d'ya figure?" (eyebrow cocked to a defcon 3 danger level)
CWMP: "Well...you know, they do have this biological clock thing, you have heard of it, right?" (tapping wrist to indicate that time is ticking, clearly my ovaries are shriveling into useless little raisinettes as we speak.... after all, I'm all of twenty-seven, better start main-lining Clomid and orange juice and avoiding tuna and soft cheeses.)
M: (thinking stinging remark, biting tongue) "Well, yes, but in our household, we combat that with plain old Common Sense and Reason." Venomous smile, full turn, exit.
Why? I'd like to point out that I do not wear mom jeans, have a "sensible" (perish the thought!) mom haircut/color, drive a mini-van, or have any interest in seeing Happy Feet or watching the Wiggles. My outfit at the time included: Four inch pointy-toed heels (black) low V neck sweater (black) and a cute gray knee-length skirt that Scott refers to as 'sexy librarian'. Also: black nail polish, smokey neutral/gray/black eye shadow and deep red lipstick. Conspicuously missing from this outfit during a rainy afternoon were an umbrella and stockings for warmth. Seriously...someone tell me, what the hell is wrong with people? As I asked Scott over a beer at Santa Barbara Brewing Company, "Do I really look like nothing more than an incubator in training?"