Regressing

I'm disturbed. My father just asked me to procure some drugs for his trip to Portland in June. "But don't get caught," he warned. "I won't stick up for you."

It began with his question: you don't smoke pot, do you? DAD! I thought we'd been over this before. I have smoked pot, so has my mother and brother but never my dad. Poor dad. At a family party years ago my mother admitted dating some guy at the hospital she worked at - before meeting my dad of course. There was pot on their date or something like that. I was in my 20s, ran to find my brother at said family party to report this scandalous news. His reply was that this was; So? Hello? Of course he knew my mother had smoked marijuana. He'd found a joint so old it crumpled to dust in his palm, when he'd been about 12. At that time Nancy Reagan was telling us, Just Say No, so it must have been a little disturbing for my brother to know he was dealing with serious addicts. Like a nice Jewish boy, he questioned our mom.

The story was that Judy Levitch had attached it to the bow on a gift for some occasion. How much do I love this Judy Levitch? Mom, being mom, had forgotten about it because it was out-of-sight. All the way in a drawer. Would any normal person be so forgetful?

Anyway, I have a few friends with connections in Portland. So, okay dad. I'll see what I can do.

In other startling news...

With T. in from Seattle this weekend for L.'s bridal shower, we needed to stop by Trader Joe's. At the lovely shower (FYI, L: I already placed my lavender sachet in my underthings drawer!) at Equinox (on Mississippi) we ate scrumptious eggs and an amazing carrot cake with faux butterflies. Because T. and I thought we might cook dinner and stay in, keeping A. company, we needed to get, what else? More food. We needed salad and blackberries and wine and tart yogurt.

Necessities.

Since my daytime routine includes work, the gym, and Trader Joe's, it makes sense that there might be potential suitors in these spots. I have shared my theory with others that I often require repeated exposures, like toxic chemicals only different.

Anyway, long story short, T. and I a find ourselves at TJ's, still dressed up, near the free coffee, samples, and chewy oatmeal cookies. I tell T. about TJ's guy. Just a person, happens to be male, who is particularly friendly toward me, asked for my ID when buying alcohol (at 35, this is a shiny moment) and should we get married could get me discounts. I spy him him just as he disappears into the back room through the bendy swinging doors. When he returns, T. casually booms out, "Where? Where is he?"

This isn't a bar. I can't swig my shirley temple, make a fool of myself here and never return. I need to be able to come back - this TJ's is on my route! It's a part of my routine! Run, I think to myself, run away! Instead, I casually saunter, blush and visit the wine aisle, all in an effort to look casual which never works. Green Fin, Coastal Merlot, Whatever. When TJ's Guy hears our giggling, he smiles, catches my eye and turns crimson. Fast forward to the parking lot, where he is collecting the carts.

As we drive off, I wave, he waves; it is true love in the parking lot. And I'm still wondering about discounts.