I was staring blankly at the tabloids, lost in my own little world, when I noticed the guy behind me in line. More specifically, I noticed that he was leaning a bit over the belt as if he was looking for a divider. I silently handed him one, still paying no attention to anything–except the vague “Huh” I was muttering in my head regarding Heath Ledger’s fatherless daughter.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw what the man behind me was placing on the belt. Whole grain cheerios, sweet potatoes, spinach, carrots, skim milk– That was enough to jolt me out of my reverie. This guy was seriously attractive. I had to take a look. So I stole a quick peek.

On my glance away, I saw the canvas grocery bags lying in his cart. And almost swooned. Seriously. I mean, I’m not fond of calling things “hot”, but that was HOT.

And now my secret is out. I judge people by the contents of their shopping carts.

When I see a cart full of fresh fruits and veggies, with lots of raw ingredients and not many pre-processed items, I applaud internally. And if the shopper happens to be male, between the ages of 20 and 40, and buying only enough for one, I think “Soul Mate.” (At which point I remind myself that there’s more to life than food–even if being an unpicky eater who loves vegetables ranks high on my dream guy list.)

When I see a cart loaded with pre-packaged foods, predominantly snack foods, I cringe and wonder. I tell myself not to be so judgemental–after all, everyone has different circumstances–and if people judged me by the contents of my grocery bag, they might come up with the wrong impression too.

For instance, this week I bought white flour, shortening, mozzarella and provolone cheese, canned mushrooms, oatmeal, and raisins. The person who sees that (like the hot guy behind me) doesn’t know that I have milk, carrots, romaine lettuce, Omega Eggs, celery, cabbage, turnips, and cauliflower in my fridge. He doesn’t know that I have bananas, apples, and oranges on my counter. He doesn’t know that I have carrots, corn, lima beans, broccoli, peas, stir fry vegetables, and chicken breasts in my freezer. He doesn’t know that I have home canned tomatoes, green beans, and applesauce in my cupboard. He doesn’t know that I have brown rice, dried beans, whole wheat pasta, onions, and red potatoes in my pantry. He doesn’t know that I make my own whole wheat bread and whole grain corn tortillas or my own yogurt. He really doesn’t know anything about me based on this week’s purchases.

So what if the hot guy behind me was judging me based on my purchases? If he were looking at me through my eyes, he’d probably be thinking: “Pretty girl. I like the shopping bag–is that homemade? But look at what she’s buying. Does she realize that everything she’s buying is WHITE? She probably doesn’t even cook–probably taking oatmeal cookies to an event.”

He might have had a really good-looking cart, but I ruined my chances with mine. Apart from his thank you when I handed him a divider, we didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. Just another attractive guy to admire from a distance.

when your eyeglasses frost over with the air from your nostrils.

For those with asthma and similar conditions (such as the euphemistically named “exercise-induced bronchospasm”), cold can be an enemy. Cold air is dry air, and dry air increases asthma symptoms.

So since the walk into class this afternoon had me wheezing a bit, I told myself I’d take precautions on the trip back to my car. I wrapped my scarf tightly around my face, covering my mouth and nose. This kept more moisture in and warmed the air slightly before I breathed it in. It’s a common recommendation for asthmatic individuals dealing with low temperatures.

While the scarf technique was successful at preventing wheezing on the way back from class, there were some unexpected complications. The scarf channelled some of my breath up and behind my eyeglasses, causing them to fog over–and then frost over.

So I walked back to my car blind. I lifted the glasses to look both ways before crossing the main street, and replaced them a little low on my nose (so that I could look over them if needed for the rest of the trip.)

Once I got back to the car, I turned it on and waited for a few minutes for my glasses to thaw. It didn’t take too long before they thawed and the water ran off onto my cheeks in two huge teardrops.

Not even probably… Life couldn’t possibly better be. (Lyrics from The Court Jester.)

But truly I have been blessed. I’m not sure life can get much better than it is right now.

I love my job (er, internship). Today I rolled a bazillion cinnamon rolls, plated some Bundt cake, observed the tray line, sat in on an interview, compared menus on old computer system and new, and rifled through some cooking magazines for recipe ideas.

I love my home. Today I baked off a few extra cinnamon rolls, made some hamburger buns, made a chicken pot pie from scratch (and my pie crust was FLAKY-Yay! I’ve finally mastered it!), started some more yogurt going, washed and replaced the sofa slipcovers, dusted and vacuumed the living room, swept and mopped the kitchen, and washed the “Joy to the World” off the patio door.

I love God. He met me at 5(am) before I left for work, He kept me safe and focused throughout the day. He’s restored my emotions (something I was beginning to think was impossible while I remained on the antidepressant.) And this evening I got a call from a friend I used to meet with regularly to do Bible study with. She said she had some extra time on Friday and she’s missed hanging out with me and talking about God. So we’re getting together this Friday to talk about God. Then my little sister had news–a family friend accepted Jesus as his Savior this evening at youth group.

Now I know I should be getting ready for bed–I do have to work (er, intern) tomorrow at 6:30–but tell me, can life possibly be better?

Life couldn’t possibly– not even probably– life couldn’t possibly better BE!