a lefty’s log

and indeed it is:

hirsute \HER-soot\ adjective
*1 : hairy
2 : covered with coarse stiff hairs

Example sentence:
Todd is hirsute, and gets a five-o’clock shadow, whereas his best friend Ryan can get away without shaving every day.

http://m-w.com/cgi-bin/mwwodarch.pl?Jul.16
join the word of the day yourself.

which reminds me,

i decided at the outset of this thing that this log wasn’t to be some frippery-centric me-gasm. more and more, however, it seems that that’s what it’s turning out to be. so true to form, in the place of ranting about why we as a nation are talking about flag-burning instead of instituting a living wage (albeit this is a dated reference by this date) or something else of equal import, i give another glimpse of what it is to be lefty. . .

last year in this space i was all dreamy-eyed about dating a fellow i called D(g). i remember writing something about schoolgirl giddiness and excited, nervous telephone calls. sometime around the start of this year that elation became something much less flighty as we both discovered that we had vastly different interests and desires; he with his academics, and me with whatever it is i fill my days with. alas, we’ve drifted apart.

this morning after a long night of mouse-clicking and sudoku scribbling, i stopped at my neighborhood kroger for a few groceries. on the hunt for a quick checkout, but bypassing the “u-scan” kiosks (nevermind how misanthropic i project myself in real life, i do prefer the human touch), i went to the relatively empty last checkout lane. there i was greeted by a familiar face, or at least i thought it was.

background
way before D(g), i crushed on Todd. (i must break with tradition here and use his real name, because the illustrating coincidences won’t work without it.) over time i had learned that he was married, and so probably not game for my pursuit. not the least of these telling clues was his wedding ring or his increasingly chilly demeanor towards me as the months rolled on and my visits down his lane turned more and more frequent. i duly inked him up on my “off limits” list, but continued to seek him out as a kindly person (of a sort) with whom i felt comfortable transacting. (and his hirsute chest one that i didn’t mind admiring.)

later, i noticed that his ring was gone, leaving a telltale pale mark on his left hand. “where’s your ring?” i asked him one thursday night. he also had stopped wearing his hair shaven.

“i divorced my wife.” Todd said tersely.

“sorry to hear that.” i obligingly replied, and politely left it at that.

. . .

flash forward
so, back to the present, and my quick roundup of breakfast staples. i found myself again in Todd’s lane. but was it really Todd?

his face looked familiar. his slightly uncomfortable air was certainly there. but his hair was much longer than i remembered, his looks much more average. later, when it occurred to me to check, i noticed that his nametag said “Theodore.” did he grab someone else’s by mistake? is this Todd’s brother?

i was too confused to ask, and too embarrased to make a social faux pas. i was rather eager to get home to breakfast. . . . (said the fox to the grapes.) in hindsight, what would it have hurt? *doh!*

reminds me of when my brother told me about the time he shaved off his ubiquitous-until-then fu manchu ’stache, then sauntered into his living room where his three-year-old son was playing. J(g) was unfazed at first and continued on with his activity. a short time later he looked up at the man in the room and said, “are you my daddy?” (har, har, aren’t kids funny!)

bitter end
it just occured to me to check my receipt. kroger always prints the name of the person logged into that checklane. . . .

damn.