ONE BRICK AT A TIME

So I'm doing laundry on Sunday afternoon - my least favorite way to spend an 80 degree, perfectly golden, day off - and realize that I'm a quarter short for the dryer. I dash to the car, scrounge a quarter from the console, and make my way back to convert wet clothes into dry. I round the corner and what to my wandering eyes should appear.... my new fella’ has already done the deed for me, DRYER SHEET AND ALL. Have I lived my entire life shielded from these gentlemen who do indeed roam the face of this earth?

I mean, ladies, let's be real... in the (let's say) 4 serious relationships you've had since venturing into the world of dating, how many of those men (and I use that term loosely) actually went out of their way to do the dishes, took the time to doctor you & your runny nose, or just gave you a simple "you're beautiful" everyday?!

Now I know that assisting with my laundry doesn't tear down the wall of defense we have built to shield us from a behavior that - for years, ah' hell, centuries - the opposite sex has strategically led us to believe is normal. However, this one simple act dismantled the first brick in what I hope to be a revolution against all of my unfavorable stereotypes.

I found a quote by Anais Nin in which she said, "Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings." Well spoken!

Had I only known that these foot-massaging, dinner cooking, handsome gentlemen were out there when I was 15, I could have bypassed all of the other morons.

One small step for man, One giant leap for my faith in man!

Goggled, and ready to go...

I'm driving across the Cooper River bridge yesterday... the windows are down, my hair's blowing in the breeze, and the voice of Alicia Keys is bellowing through every inch of my car. Then, totally unexpected -

BAM!

My eyeball was greeted by an unexpected visitor.

Eyeball... meet Mr. Rock.

That's right! A rock flew into my car window and out of all the places it could slam its little self into, it chose my left eye. And what's more horrible than the stabbing pain, was the reminder of my beautiful new Prada sunglasses that were lost in the shuffle of an Oyster Roast last weekend - 4 DAYS OLD!!! Prada would have protected me, I know it! I almost cried!

I mean, don't we all assume that we will have the company of our eyeballs forever. I'm sure that's what my Papa thought until his eyeball met the sharp end of a knife, as a little boy - YIKES! Okay, maybe it's a little too early for that story!

The point in all of my rambling is... if you see me out and about and I'm wearing a GINORMOUS set of goggles, you'll know why. I really like my eyeballs, and hopefully we can enjoy many more days together!