Dear Public At Large,

When I meet up with you in random places –  say a parking lot or the middle of a super-market aisle – please excuse my social ineptness.

Consider this fair warning.

I WILL blush furiously and say only the following three things, “Sure.  Awesome!  Sweet!”  It will seem out of place when you tell me how you’ve just bought a house, have 2 foster children and own a Harley Davidson.

I apologize.

I am also sorry for not asking the appropriate questions for such a situation.  Things like, “How’s your mom?  Where are your siblings now?  How did you become a foster parent?”

Please take comfort in knowing that I DO think of this stuff later and chastise myself at length over it.  I work and rework the conversation as it should have happened and hope at the same time that you will completely expunge your encounter with me from your memory.  And that, if you can’t, you will understand that I am a blithering idiot outside of my own habitat. I’m working on it.


Conversationally Challenged Me