What a shot weekend: working Saturday, mother-in-law in town (can't be all like, "Hey, Mama Offender, I'm going to LCD Soundsystem. I should be in by 6 or so in the morning, cool?"), one of my least two favorite parades is going on (I stopped myself from bringing up my introduction to the Puerto Rican Pride parade, watching drunken forty-something women taking dumps in Central Park), couldn't even pull together a decent workout.
And just when my inspiration hits a low point, SHE happens.
So imaginate a little: It's 6 pm on a Sunday evening. You'd rather be at the Eagle, listening to your buddy Paul spin, eating grilled burgers and swilling dollar beers, but you ain't Blanche, you ain't. Then you see her, half a block away. Because of the distance you doubt yourself, stand at the corner and await her approach. Behind the pushcart you see white shoes, a red skirt, a vivid yellow and red blouse, a sheer red headscarf, big hair, full makeup with a full red lip, and, my favorite, white gloves all enveloping a teensy tiny mid-seventies woman. This is what an evening stroll with your pushcart is all about!
I fumble around my bag because I just need a picture of this. Then I remember, the camera's recharging. (Mr. Offender went on a bender. Made several movies of subjects telling him that they didn't want their picture taken.) Next up the camera-phone. Memory is full. Delete blurry shot of Casey Spooner. Ready.
But she's ahead of me now and this needs to be a frontal shot. She pulls into the grocery store. She removes the gloves and reviews the circular. I pause in produce and await my chance. She passes by when I'm distracted by something low-carb. She swings into an aisle; I race down parallel to head her off. After visually establishing the fact that I am 'using the phone' I get my shot and leave, of course not buying anything - it's summer; I don't eat solids in summer. (Granted the normal offender would have just stopped her in the street and asked her to take her picture, but I'm off my game, loves.)
The point of this being that if your weekend just isn't living up to it, put on your white gloves and roll your pushcart out into the world.