Deb Smouse

I have this constant dialog going in my head most of the time. At home, the dialog tells me that I should be doing some laundry or dishes instead of writing. It’s an absolutely BEAUTIFUL day today, so I thought getting out would help the voices say “it’s a beautiful day - create!” if I were to get a change of scenery.

So, me and the new laptop made a trip to Starbucks. I needed to get out of the house with it anyway, before I go out of town again tomorrow. Vista won’t disconnect from my home network so that I can test the aircard I use. I’m thinking it needs a name.

Like Jane.

Say Hello to the folks, Jane.

(she says hello. she’s on the shy side if she doesn’t know you)

So, Jane and I are at Starbucks. I am wearing headsets so that the conversations around me don’t tempt me to eavesdrop instead of work and write. but the laughter at the next table DOES distract me. and I realize they are laughing at this man walking in.

Men. trust me when I say this.

Overalls are cute on little boys. Boys who have mussed up hair and are clutching a toy car in their chubby little hands.   That cuteness ends around six years old.  When you are in your forties or fifties? Um. No. We live in suburbia. There are no farms around here. You haven’t been painting, unless you are the neatest painter in the world (and if you are, please introduce yourself, I have some walls that could use a fresh coat).

The only exception is men over the age of 70.  Cause little old men are just cute to me, no matter what.

I’m not being mean, honest. But even Jane is chuckling to herself.

I’m not mean, but maybe Jane is a little mean. She just told me to stop procrastinating and blogging when I have a short story open in Word.

I hope she isn’t always such a bossy little bitch.