At our nearest grocery store, which is independent, and (I hate this word, but it’s true) TOTALLY darling, Franny is friends with half the clerks there. The night manager doesn’t really even talk to me, but will poke Franny when she comes by. A new clerk I didn’t know bounced up to us and said “Hiiiiii!!!” to Franny. “Remember me?” She was really young and the first thing I noticed was that she was incredibly and perfectly brown, which she explained a moment later. “I tan in the park across the street from Franny’s school, so I see the kids at the park all the time when they’re out.” She introduced herself and gave us the name of her building, which is two doors down from Franny’s school.

She was a very friendly young woman and Franny seemed thrilled to see her, so I said quietly to Companion on the way home, “It boggles me a little that people still tan themselves.” Skin cancer runs in my Whitey McWhiterson family.

“Well, not everyone can be naturally beautiful, honey.” I thought he was teasing me, and I gave him a pinch. “No, I’m serious,” he said. “You don’t need to tan, you got booty on tap, baby.”

Only in my wildest dreams did I hope to find someone who would say things like this to me. I spend most of my time being equally delighted and horrified by him, which I’ve discovered I enjoy. What will happen next? I never know, but 99% of the time it’s a good surprise.