Monday, March 26, 2018

80/365/Secrets and Lies in 56

I spent a week in Maryland recently, in my old hometown, and almost all the cashiers (and I saw a lot of them) called me hon, or love, or something like that. So did some waitresses. Maybe the feminist in me should be offended, but truth be told, I liked it. It was kinda nice, hon.


  1. Butchers in NZ call everyone "love." I think it's part of their training.

  2. On the rare occasions I hear that, it's usually from a woman. No problem. But last week the very young guy in the beer store called me Sweetie. I just looked at him. He said, "Sorry, I'm from the South and I'm trying to stop doing that." But then he called me Sweetie again.