She threads her way through the cars on this swirly cold day, coming up my son’s driveway, and with the winter sun and the wind blowing her shoulder-length hair in her eyes all I saw at first was that eager smile and clipboard, and I figured she’s one of those Jehovah’s Witnesses coming to save my soul. But then I see that she’s wearing mustard-colored shorts and black stockings. They’re not even tights. They’re more like pantyhose, with a pattern in them, and there’s a big snag, almost a hole, on one thigh – it’s not real noticeable but I see it. She looks pretty trampy. So then I think, okay, she’s probably selling pest control.

Turns out she’s with Kirby vacuums, but she doesn’t have any equipment or even a car as far as I can tell. She must have been the advance gal for the salesman. That was my first job after babysitting when I was a teenager, I tell her, doing telemarketing for Kirby but I don’t mention the way me and the other girls got treated like meat. This little girl, her smile gets even bigger, she clutches her clipboard to her chest and says, “Do you have any advice for me?” She already told me she graduated early so I’m guessing she’s maybe seventeen and a half, at the most.

I open my mouth but then stop. I want so badly to tell her, Yeah, go home and put on some long pants. Don’t smile so much. Stand up straight. Make your voice deeper. But instead I tell her the truth, which is, you’re selling a really quality product. You can, you know, be proud of that. Have confidence in your product.

And I wondered about a kid who has was so desperate for work she’d go door to door selling vacuums and what kind of home life would let her outside looking like that. We said our goodbyes and she went up the street. A few houses away, I pushed the stroller across the street to catch up with her. “I have a question for you.”

“Yes?” She clutched her clipboard like it was a life vest.

“Do you have any Mace?”

“No, I was going to get some but it’s my first week and I haven’t gotten around to buying any.”

So I fished around in the stroller and gave her mine, and I wanted again to tell her, wear long pants. But how do you say that without scaring her? After I gave it to her I realized that now I was pretty vulnerable too, but I’m crusty. I have an attitude toward people, and I believe I will see trouble coming before it gets to me. That’s what you get for living this long.

That night, I told Bill what happened. He looked all squinty-eyed at me. “You got taken,” he said. “They put her out there looking helpless and people want to buy from her.”

I said, “Maybe she was being played that way by some creepy sales manager, but I don’t think she was sophisticated enough to run that game. At least she didn’t seem so to me.”

He shrugged. “She got your Mace.”

The Washington Post’s Mensa Invitational once again invited readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding,  subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are the winners:

1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you  realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone ( n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.

9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

1 0. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these  really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer.

1 2. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor ( n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating.

The  Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words. 

And the winners are:

1. Coffee, n. The person upon whom one coughs.

2. Flabbergasted, adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.

3. Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. Esplanade, v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. Willy-nilly, adj. Impotent.

6. Negligent, adj. Absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.

7. Lymph, v. To walk with a lisp.

8. Gargoyle, n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.

9. Flatulence, n. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.

10. Balderdash, n. A rapidly receding hairline.

11. Testicle, n. A humorous question on an exam.

12. Rectitude, n. The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.

13. Pokemon, n. A Rastafarian proctologist.

14. Oyster, n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.

15. Frisbeetarianism, n. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

16. Circumvent, n. An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

Thanks to my buddy and frequent AST commenter Nanci Sheeran for sending me this email in the first place, and apologies to family members who’ve already seen it. 

The WordPress.com stat monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 16,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 6 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

I watched the door close behind the mammo-tech. She went to ask the radiologist if anything more would be needed. Left alone in the xray room with the boob masher machine, I glared at the thing. It had a little pink ribbon decal on the side.

“Fuck you,” I whispered.

I had been called back for another look after a recent mammogram. And now they want to schedule an ultrasound. Yes, there’s a little tiny thing. I hate to even use the word, it’s so freighted. But yes, the word was mass. And they have to see if it’s benign or not.

You know what my reaction was? Bring it.

When you get old, you get wrinkles and all kinds of stupid stuff that you don’t want. But you know what you maybe also get? Tough.

I’m tired of being scared. I’m ready for fearlessness. I’m entering the Crone stage, I think. Put a cape over my shoulders and a giant C on my chest. Read it any way you want, I’m feeling awesome. Powerful.

I’ve had more than my share of health alerts and surgeries in my 57 years. Enough that when I got this latest, I think the radiologist was thrown by all the ‘tude coming at her.

Whatever happens, happens. Do what you gotta. Life is good.

I dedicate this post to my friend who is in the middle of being treated for an aneurysm behind her eye, and to my other friend who just recovered her 17-handicap three years after her aneurysm – in her brain. To my three girlfriends who were recently widowed. To my 86-year-old mom who is hoping to drive as soon as her broken leg heals.

LIFE: BRING. IT.

Kindle readers can email me at Lmspreen@yahoo.com.