NO COMMENT

You may think from the title that I have nothing to say.  Not so.

I bought a long-sleeved red cotton sweater at the Church Thrift a week or so ago.  I liked it very much.  It had a white stripe down each sleeve and the words, in white, No Comment, over the heart area.  I don't think your heart goes that far to the left so let's just say it was at the top of my left breast, for clarity.  Anyway, I enjoyed wearing that shirt and hoped I could point to the No Comment words, should the occasion arise. 

The occasion arose sooner than I may have wished.  I was shopping up at Parkgate at the Safeway store.  I was carrying a small bag with a couple of potatoes and a carton of milk.  I'm up there most days so I don't have to buy much at any given time.  Anyway, as I was strolling towards my car, an older man stopped me and enquired if I would.....and I won't repeat what he said in case children read this blog.  What he wanted me to do would certainly be inappropriate in the Safeway parking lot and indeed even in a dark alley.  I pointed to my No Comment words on my shirt because I had no desire to discuss his demands with him.  He peered at me and asked why I was pointing to my breast.  Wouldn't you know a pervert like that would have poor vision.  Just my luck.  I told him it said Fuck Off and he said why didn't you say so in the first place.  He wandered away.

Proceeding with the No Comment scenario, I have no comments on my new blog.  My nephew's wife, Kim, (I guess she would be called my niece-in-law if I didn't want to call her Kim) emailed me the other day to say she enjoyed my blog very much, tried to make a comment on one of the postings, but had no success.  I told her I would try to fix that, or at least ask Paul if he could do it.  I also told her I have no problem with bad comments or good comments and related a story from years ago when a fellow at the SeaBus terminal called me a bitch, for a reason I can no longer remember.  Anyway, I thanked him because no one had ever called me a bitch before.  He looked alarmed as he stalked off, presumably thinking I had mental issues. 

In closing, comment s'il vous plait.