Backtracking... The Second

Chapter 10 Installment

Decemberish 2009

Today I met the most BEAUTIFUL check-out man in the whole wide world. You think I’m kidding. Not so. I’m certain of it. His big bubbly blue eyes coy and comical as he heckled me for buying the 2 dollar bottle of red wine (which was really for my mother, if he MUST know). Yes, I know check-out man. You instantly love me too. And oh, how perfectly green our organic-foods life shall be together. In a moment, I could see it all. The matching Hawaiian shirts we wear as we peruse the whole-grain rice cereals hand-in-hand. Our children’s ocean-colored eyes only matched by the dye in our water-saving toilets. We’ll cozy up to a little cardboard fireplace in our downtown high-rise apartment, and life will be produce-perfect…

For once, I gag myself on my own punny-ness. But it’s ok. Cuz it really did happen. And no I didn’t have the guts to stay and see if I could get his number but that’s because I’m afraid to come off like a stalker. And trust me. NOBODY likes to come off as a stalker. Especially when you’re trying your damndest to give off the impression that you sooooo have it going on, cool cucumber-style (no pun intended actually, mr. ideal groceries man)

God bless America I’m cold. And not “oh geez it’s a little cold.” No like honest-to-goodness I’m-Stuck-In-A-Frickin’-Snowstorm-In-Antarctica kind of cold. I must have the WORST circulation known to man. Er wo-man, I guess. Ugh. I swear my mother has GOT to be menopausal. Or pre-menopausal. Peri-menopausal? …Ahem. EITHER way, that leaves me stuck with freezing temperatures and fingers I can’t feel anymore as I type. And toes? HA! What are those? …oh dear I’m rhyming. Unintended rhyming is the WORST, too. COMPOSE THYSELF, DETTMANN! (ahem) …hahahahahahaha! Punny, punny! J

I think I am going to use that as a chapter title. “COMPOSE THYSELF, DETTMANN!” It is literally what I’m doing! Hehe! Though me typing that realization is like hitting my poor reader over the head with it. Like right out of Monty Python’s Holy Grail. “GET ON WITH IT!” We get the joke. MOVE ON.

Anyway, here I am. Sitting here. Wrapped in my gray hoodie, wishing I had a thermal suit on, while my younger sister sweats to death. Is there such a thing as pre-PRE-menopausal? She’s got it. Either that, or she and my mother are in league with each other. Like, “Wonder how long before we drive her to utter ice-cubery? Let’s find out!” Yeah, well… NOT FUNNY, FAMILY! I DON’T LIKE IT WHEN YOU TURN ME INTO ICE-CUBERY! (…thanks, Dane) :P
Ahem. I think I’m changing my middle name. To Cornball. Amy Cornball Dettmann. It is fitting, wouldn’t you say? You’ve heard of Andrew Cornwall Jackson. Well here comes ACD, ready for action! …oh dear. I “C” I’ve really got something there. Rock on. ;)