(forgot to post this last week...)

it all started with a simple thought.

biscuits and gravy. then i realized. i have no biscuits. i have no sausage.

brilliant plan: ride pink monster to winco and acquire biscuits and sausage.

i harness the pink monster up out front and start walking into winco. approximately two steps in the front door i hear a male voice behind me say: hi. i turn to my right, and respond: hi. it takes a moment to process, but i soon realize that i have never previously laid eyes on the plaid-clad thirty-something next to me. he stares. i quiver.

sorry, he says, i thought you were my neighbor.

silent pause.

oh, well, i'm not. i coldly reply.

yeah, you mostly looked like her from behind.

he stares intently at some part of my face. sweat drips from his dwight schrute haircut. i make a quick left down an aisle i have absolutely no interest in.

oh, well have a nice day, he calls behind me.

while panicking about my vulnerable position all alone in the grocery store--my only getaway the two-wheeled, pink contraption powered by my wee little legs--i spy the only thing that can restore sanity: circus animal cookies. on sale.

i grab the cookies and biscuits and gravy necessities and hustle back to the pink monster, carefully stowing all goods in my front basket. speeding down (or up) myrtle street, i realize i have made a clean getaway from the sweaty, dressed-by-his-mother, socially inept, i-hope-he-was-referring-to-my-hair-when-he-recognized-me-from-behind, dwight schrute look alike.

i was little aware of my impending doom.

i can't tell you why i didn't notice it. perhaps the thrill of avoiding another awkward encounter. perhaps the fact that i am mere minutes away from enjoying circus animal cookies in the comfort of my own blue couch. either way, i soon find myself speeding directly toward the curb of death.

i watch as all goods in the basket bounce uncontrollably. the biscuits fly to the left. the sausage flies to the right. the cookies land six inches in front of me. without having any time to react or absorb the shock of what has just happened, i feel the pink monster's front wheel make direct contact with the circus animal cookies. the crunching sound makes me instantaneously nauceous, and i react as i always do in incidents of minor destruction: panic.

helplessly screaming, "oh no oh no oh no" on one of the busiest streets in boise, i carelessly park the pink monster, praying that there is some hope for the cookies. the bag is rent apart, all cookies smashed into the sidewalk.

i struggle not to actually cry, so i start picking up all the smashed animal cookies in an attempt to distract myself. i convince myself that any good citizen would clean up their smashed cookies, not realizing that in my effort to keep sidewalks clean, i am actually depriving all the local birds of the best feast of their short lives.

i complete the clean up, packing the remains of the cookies in the grocery bag to properly dispose of in the privacy of my own home. as i sit baffled on the sidewalk, i reflect on the eventful past fifteen minutes.

what did i learn from this experience? well, there are multifarious positions to take on it. perhaps i should learn that judging the socially inept to be inherently perverted and creepy and taking all measures to avoid them isn't the best way to perceive an uncomfortable encounter. perhaps it i now know that impulse buying unnecessary food is never a positive response to emotional trauma. however, in the initial moments following my sidewalk trauma, i learn a very valuable lesson.

one when loses a bag of circus animal cookies, it is best to immediately fill the void with a bag of red vines purchased at a convenice store on the way home. lesson learned.