On my way to her house, I stopped by a local shop to purchase a small hostess gift.
I told the shop owner I was going to a luncheon and asked for gift suggestions.
When I went to pay for the gift, she asked about the lunch.
Normally, I don’t divulge a lot of information about myself when I am out in public. What you see is what you get. Middle-age woman. Or boy. Heck, you know the drill. But I was in a generous and giving mood because friends! free lunch! afternoon cocktails!
“A friend is having a special lunch in my honor because I wrote a book,” I said.
The shop owner congratulated me and we started talking about writing.
When she asked questions about the book, I handed her a promotional business card.
“I was just talking to my daughter about this the other night,” she said.
Apparently, they had gone on a mother-daughter shopping excursion for a bathing suit. The teenage daughter wanted board shorts like her dad wears.
“I didn’t even know what board shorts were,” she said.
“I wear board shorts,” I told her.
So, we talked about board shorts and the fluidity of gender and girls who want to wear what their dads do.
I couldn’t wait for W to get home so I could tell her about my day. About the special lunch of grilled chicken and shrimp, organic beer and a duo of desserts.
And about my conversation with the shop owner.
“Most writers say that if they are able to touch one person’s life, they are a success,” W reminded me.
“I know,” I said. “My book isn’t even out, and I’m already changing the world.”
So, yeah, a little dramatic. But the day’s events left me feeling large and in charge and, well, yes, very, very butch.