Our Neighborhood Bodega

It's no secret amongst my friends and family that I am not a cook.  I don't like it.  I would much rather be outside in yard or down the hill with my goats or out at the barn with the horses etc.  So I do a lot of my grocery shopping at a little spot just around the corner from me, which I call "my neighborhood bodega."  Are you ready?  Here it is:

Yep.  It's 7-11.   It carries everything I need!  Since I'm usually on my own for dinner, I specialize in Lean Cuisines, Cheerios, and quesadillas. (I was so sad when the bodega quit carrying tortillas.)  I usually have staples on hand and always go to the real grocery for fruits and veggies.  Need dog food? Out of butter? (you can buy just ONE cube!)  Has the milk gone bad?  7-11. 

And since I usually discover that I'm out of some necessity after I've been outside all day getting really grubby and stinky doing my favorite things, we can imagine what I look and smell like.

So late one summer evening after a day filled with goats, I headed to the bodega to pick up a few essentials.  When I walked in, I recognized a developmentally-disabled young man from around the neighborhood.  I kind of giggled when I passed him and he told me how nice I looked.

After I pay -- he let me go in front of him -- and I'm walking out, I hear him say to the clerk, "Wow, it must be cool to work in a place like this with all these hotties coming in!"