I've always loved fireworks. When I was a kid I would bring my sketchbook to the OakBrook, IL fireworks show and draw them. A few years later I would take pictures with my first camera that was this tiny pink plastic thing. Man, I would love to find those photos today! One day when I upgrade from my sad point-and-shoot digital I'll look back on this photo and think it's total crap.
On another topic... so I'm in the grocery store today, wearing a t-shirt, an old pair of cotton comfy track pants and to top the look off, flip flops. Cause you know, I'm just in the grocery store around the corner. I'm deciding which juice to buy when this shy-type guy who doesn't speak English super well comes over and asks me where I am from.
"Where am I from?" He nods that this was indeed the question. "Um, Chicago," I respond.
"You look nice. I just wanted to tell you that you look very pretty."
"Um, thanks." I'm too surprised to say much else. He's clearly being genuine.
"What is your name?"
"Lori."
"Okay," he smiled. "Bye."
And he walked away. Whatever his motive, he said I was pretty and that was that. He wasn't someone I would ever go for, but it was sweet. I take away from this two things:
1) Every once in a while a stranger knows how to tell a woman she is pretty. It doesn't involve whistling, grunting, eying up and down, or, my personal favorite, "Hey baby!" I hate when people call me baby. I'm not your baby.
2) Perhaps for my next date I won't obsess so much about my outfit. Men don't care if I've carefully mixed a new shirt with an old belt and vintage-inspired jeans to create the perfect creative-but-classy outfit. Clearly flips, track pants and a fitted t-shirt get the job done. Although I think they do like it when we put a little thought into what we are wearing underneath.
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