There are some things about me that I hope Monkey inherits. You know, some traits about me that don't suck. Less wrinkles than normal, more friends from kindergarten than normal, stuff like that.
And then there are things that I am not sure I want her to get. Specifically, I am ambivalent about whether or not it will be a good thing if she inherits my "approachable" face.
(Backdrop to the story -I am wearing my black cowboy boots under dress pants. It's my friday dressy-casual approach to life.)
So, I was on the platform of the subway this afternoon with a colleague, returning to work after a meeting with donors, when this uber-tall guy with a southern twang starting talking to me.
He saw my cowboy boots and it set him off on this long narrative tale that started with how he had cowboy boots that had the same pattern on the toe, moved through life as a 9year old in the swamps outside New Orleans, and ended with him narrowly missing death after taking a swing at a horse amped up on steriods...and missing.
Yeah, some (Manhattan?) cowpoke took a swing AT a horse, missed, and lived to tell the tale.
Yes, a swing, as in trying to punch a horse in the mouth.
Story done, he ambled away, leaving my colleague to shake his head, raise an eyebrow and ask "do you always get wierdos talking to you?"....sigh...Yes, I do.
This is the price I pay for having a face that looks approachable. There is something about me that screams "tell me bizarro stories! I really DO want to hear your medical history? and "Yes, yes, I AM waiting to be saved by the lord."
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