Yesterday I got an extra special treat.
Yes, my friends, it came in the form of a brief, but much enjoyed from across the street, exchange with Gonzaga Basketball player, Rob Sacre. Don't know him? Google him. You won't be sorry. I have a weakness for such beauty.
Did you google him? I knew you'd be glad you did.
So anyway, I only know this poor kid because my neighbors across the street are friends with all of the players, and they often come to use our neighbors sweat lodge and to eat my neighbors yummy homemade food. And yes, I said sweat lodge. (It's a long story, and a post for another day.)
So anyway, whenever Rob (who shall henceforth be known as my boyfriend) comes to visit, my neighbor, who knows I enjoy the view from my front window, sends him over to my house for scattered reasons. Once it was to walk my children home after a playdate. Another time, it was because I borrowed a spice or some flour or something like that....I can't remember what it was, I was too busy crapping my pants to notice.
The problem is: I am an author. I spend 90% of my time at home in front of a laptop, in my friggin' PJ's. So this gorgeous kid (and yes, he is a kid....I am almost 35 and have no business oogling this child who is merely a junior in college!) constantly sees this overweight housewife in her skeezy pajamas giggling at the mere sight of him.
Humiliating. Every time.
So yesterday....Easter, in case you missed it...I was dressed up. I'd gone to church in the morning, then to a family dinner, then to my mothers for dessert. I had on a lovely yellow, grey and black skirt, some black footless tights, bright yellow ballet flats, a black blouse and a jean jacket. I looked a little rag-a-muffin, as I always do....after all, I am a mother of four kids, I am perpetually struggling with my weight, and I am ALWAYS attracted to the loudest outfit in the store. Period.
But I was liking my look yesterday. It was, how shall I put it, acceptable. And I was having, as always, a great hairday. So that's another point for Brooke!
So anyway, I came out my house and heard the familiar deep voice (this kid knows he has an admirer across the street...and loves every second of it.) call out, "HI, NEIGHBOR! HAPPY EASTER!"
This time, instead of screaming and struggling to cover my owl pajama pants and "Frankie Say Relax" tee shirt (what?? Like YOU don't have a magic tee shirt that makes you write most excellent scenes!) I waved and smiled and called back...
"It certainly is now, kid!"
Hee hee. I was proud of my quick comeback. Oh, and of the fact that I was actually wearing a bra and matching socks this time. He grinned, waved, took his girlfriends hand (who is gorgeous, I might add...of course she is. And she is very tolerant of the fat old lady across the street who oogles her boyfriend. So kudos to her.) and left.
I had a warm fuzzy.
Happy Easter to me.
Brooke Moss.
P.S. Now......before I get a bunch of emails asking me why I am disrespecting my husband, I should add...there is nothing in the world that I love more than my nerd. He is the absolute perfect puzzle piece for me. I heart him mucho much, and when I flirt with the 7 foot basketball player across the street, it means little more than when I go to the movies and describe to my best friend how I would accost Robert Pattinson in an alleyway, if given a chance. It means nothing. The kid gets an ego boost from the fat lady across the street wooping and hollering at him, and I get the privilege of seeing him in a nice Easter outfit. It's a win/win. So no nasty emails, alright? Besides.......you googled him. And you're just jealous.
