Thanksgiving/ Work Families

My stepmother is bringing apple pie and brownies. There is also ice cream. I’m starting to get nervous.

I haven’t tracked any desserts, yet, because I’m still not sure what my approach is going to be. I’m thinking a tiny sample of each thing. Maybe I don’t even need the brownies.

I dreamt of high school, and that perv of a drama coach. He didn’t do anything to me; probably my boobs were too small. A blessing in disguise.

It’s weird to think. Now he’d probably be all over me, dirty old bastard.

That dude who complimented my tan asked about taking some of the foam we throw away for his tools. I said sure. He wished me a happy Thanksgiving.

Maybe he was just trying to be nice and was never hitting on me. I can’t just go around assuming every man who speaks to me is trying to pick me up. How conceited!

I really don’t, though. I’m fair. I call it like I see it.

And I’m almost never wrong when I sense attraction. I thought it had to do with all my knowledge of nonverbal communication, body language, proxemics, and my level of intuition. But it might also just be a female thing. Women are supposed to be better at reading signals.

The leering guy doesn’t leer anymore, either. I vented to Rick one day about it, and he went to the guy’s supervisor. It wasn’t my intention at all to get anyone in trouble, but it certainly worked out for me.

It’s like I said, he took care of me. My work dad.

E. took care of me, too. He was extremely helpful with things I either couldn’t do or couldn’t do, yet. Kept me productive. Kept my mind engaged. So smart. He also listened to and counseled me on the new girl’s antics, my aspirations, etc.

Obviously, being near my age, he was much too young to be my work dad, which worked out, since I already had one.

K. could be my work son. No, that’s too weird, I can’t say that. He’s my distant work cousin that I see only on holidays but when we get together we pick right up where we left off.

No, but he’s a really good kid, and he has an outstanding work ethic, especially for his young age. Light speed learner. Already driving the lift truck.

A. is a year younger than me. I’m not surprised, but I’m slightly annoyed. I realize it’s not a contest. Oddly, I just prefer men being older than me, for some reason. Is that weird? Patriarchal?

Even just slightly older works. Derek is 19 days older than I am.

R. in SWH is also a few years younger than me. Ask me how I feel about that. No, it’s okay. And, in fairness, she’s alright, once you get used to her. For some reason, she really seems to like me, so…

OE is older than me. He is funny. He shot me with his scanner the other day.

N. is obviously a lot younger than me. Late 20s, early 30s, I’m guessing. He lives with the girl upstairs. Nobody told me they were a thing. At Rick’s pizza party, it was just obvious, by the way they were standing next to each other. If they’re not a thing, I thought to myself, they should be.

It’s when people are somewhere in my vicinity that I’m most interested in their age. Or when I feel a lot of similarity, or agreement. Reciprocity?

Anyway. Boy, this is like one of my Saturday posts, it goes on and on and on…