Weekend

She approached the counter with a shambling, encumbered gait representative of years of punishment due to the weight that she carried. A large scar staggered across her forehead and meandered into an eyebrow, disappearing. Who knows how she got it. She was dressed in one piece of fabric that could be most adequately described as a moo moo.

As she was signing for her prescription, she glanced up to me, with an eyebrow slightly raised as if to beg the question:

Her: Honey, you married?
Me: No, I am not.
Her: Hmmm. You know, I can cook and clean real good. I need me a good man so I can quit workin'. You know?

Indeed I did. I did my best to explain that I was not currently searching for a long term relationship.

Me: I'm sure you can. We should take things slow though, right? Maybe a date or two first.
Her: Oh, Suga! I'm fo' real!

I'll bet she was. The thing is, we might make an odd couple. Her being about 5'8'', 270 and black and me being a skinny white boy may force the wedding photographer to really dig deep to make those pictures turn out.

Wedding proposals aside, the holiday weekend went off without a hitch. I only endured 1 ass reaming, not that I much give a shit about those. I got to eat my lunch both days, so that was pretty sweet. Let's call it a win.