One morning last week I celebrated the cool weather by wearing a handknit sweater to the grocery store. I stopped on the way for coffee, but that’s not really part of the story. Also, I was wearing clogs and eyeliner on the bottom, which I haven’t done in years. (The eyeliner was not on the bottom of the clogs, nor was it on my bottom. Dear Lord I need to practice so many things.)
I filled my cart with apples and bananas and butternut squash and power greens, and at least 17 people just rolled their eyes because I mentioned power greens. I get you. I rolled my eyes, too. (I no longer have eyeliner on the bottom.)
Because the self-checkout lanes were not yet open, I had to go through an actual lane manned by an actual man. (Running like hell out to the car with unpurchased produce was not an option, because I had trouble starting my car a few times last week and I don’t need to go to jail for stealing food unless I need to steal food.)
Older gentleman wearing a grocery apron: Good morning! That’s a pretty swakenfloosh you’re wearing this morning!
Me (knowing that my hearing tested perfectly last year, but still feeling doubtful that those results were accurate, and also feeling 92% sure that this guy is digging my sweater): Thank you! I decided it’s finally cool enough to wear it!
Aproned old guy: What? You only smile when it’s cold out?
Me (realizing that swakenfloosh equals smile and not everyone knows that a handknit sweater is a Handknit Sweater, and why do I always think I deserve a parade?): Yup. Pretty much.
It’s NaBloPoMo, and I’m going to try to snizzlefritz your swashenflotz like it’s November 9, 2010.