Wearing new shoes usually adds about thirty points to the greatness level of your day. Today is no exception. I picked these up a few weeks ago at DSW. What can I say? I’m a sucker for argyle. Crazily enough, they are a size 8 and they fit snugly. I could have sworn that I used to wear a size 7. This lady at DSW overheard me lamenting this shoe size change to the husband and she said, “Oh honey, your feet never stop growing. I used to be a size 6 and now I’m a size 9!”

Yikes.

I think that’s crazy talk but I sure hope I don’t eventually grow to wear a size 9.

The husband and I experience an incredibly high frequency of strangers who feel compelled to comment on our conversations. I’m not sure if we are talking too loudly or if the topics we discuss are just too provocative – or maybe we just look really approachable. And it’s not just when we are conversing together. We also experience this when we are alone and are minding our own business.

If I’m waiting in a long line for the bathroom, I can always count on a woman next to me to make some smart remark about how “they still haven’t figured out that three bathroom stalls isn’t enough for an auditorium of women” accompanied with a playful elbow nudge and a wink. If I’m at the Social Security Administration Office and the rude security officer has just chastised a person for drinking bottled water because no food or drink is allowed in the office, I can always count on the middle aged woman in front of me to roll her eyes and mutter under her breath, “Can someone say power trip?” Before I can respond, she’ll launch into her extended sob story about how she’s here to change her name because she has recently divorced her husband and that it was a rotten marriage to begin with and truth be told, she’s happy to be free of it. I usually look around the room at this point to try to figure out why she’s chosen me to talk to. One, I’m not wearing a suit. Two, I’m not blowing bubbles with my chewing gum. Three, I don’t have any visible tattoos. Four, I don’t have a permanent sneer on my face. Sigh, the price I pay for looking plain.

This is the kind of thing that I pretend to be annoyed with but whenever I leave Houston to visit another city, I always realize how much I miss it. When a parent swears at their disobedient child in a public space, I miss not being able to exchange a knowing glance with a stranger next to me as if he/she were someone that I’ve been exchanging knowing glances with my whole life. Some people find southern hospitality fake and shallow – and in some settings (especially in retail stores) I agree – but for the most part, I really enjoy it. People who have conversations with strangers obviously don’t take themselves too seriously and probably feel that all people, even strangers, have enough in common to share a dialogue without any of the usual prerequisites.