The Filter

I don’t know what has happened to me over the past few years, but it seemed like once I hit age 30, that filter between my brain and my mouth has been working less and less. I have decided to find it liberating that I now say what I think. Others may have a different opinion.

Today, I went to Caribou. You all know how much I LOVE Caribou! And all of my favorite people were working. I saw Aaron who is supposed take me out on Friday away from the kids. Last time we went out, I drove and Aaron got drunk at Beanology. He is soooo driving this time. But I digress.

It’s always fun when I drive up to Caribou and hear, “Oh! It’s the Passion Party lady!” I often wonder what people are actually thinking. I imagine it’s something like, “Dude! Seriously? She’s the sex expert?” I only say this because when I hit Caribou first thing in the morning, it’s usually before I have done my hair or put on make-up.

I ordered my usual large turtle mocha with skim milk. The girl working turned to me and said, “You do realize the skim milk doesn’t make up for all the chocolate in that drink?” I immediately flipped her off and said, “I do NOT need your criticism!” I mean, come on! I have to have a few indulgences. Besides, Aaron has chastised me enough for this over the last two years.

They must have felt bad. Either that or they just love me because I’m the sex lady, because they gave me my drink for free. FREE!! Free Caribou coffee! That is a better way to start off your day than morning sex!

After that, I took Georgia grocery shopping. She was pissed. I really think I am going to have to start doing the shopping by myself after Eric gets home. Georgia really hates being confined to a shopping cart, and has no inhibitions about sharing her discomfort with the rest of the store. She was also pissed because it was cold and I dressed her in layers. I have told you in the past how she loves to run around naked, so you can imagine how annoyed she was with the added clothing. I had to sing Edelweiss and Itsy Bitsy Spider all through the grocery store.

Then, I really thought I deserved a treat. I wanted Crab Rangoon. I had a STRONG craving. So, I drug Georgia kicking and screaming to Dillons, which has a kick-ass Chinese kitchen. They had five Crab Rangoon left. I got four of them. And this was self-control. When I was pregnant with Georgia, I would buy them a dozen at a time.

Now, have you ever been somewhere and felt someone’s death stare on the back of your head? I got that feeling today. It was the woman behind me in line. When I was paying, I heard her order Crab Rangoon, and express her displeasure (while staring at me) that there was only one left. Lady! Seriously? It takes them four minutes to make more. I would have parked my happy ass and been glad they were fresh. Instead she sighed loudly while shooting me homicidal glances and said, “I guess I’ll just take the one you have left.”

Well, whose fault is that? Next time, she should get there before me. I walked off silently, and Georgia and I went home and enjoyed our Crab Rangoon.

All in all, it was a good day.