“Here she comes!”

—“Did you wanna speak to ***** again?” asked *****’s assistant from inside my pharmacy.
“I have one more thing to ask her,” I said.
GOODIE! Here she comes! Bouncy-bouncy!
We’re both probably thinking the same thing = “we’re gonna talk!”
Here comes *****, who I hafta force myself to not call “pretty *****.”
Calling her that would be flirtatious.
She’s not gorgeous, she’s married, and I’m old enough to be her father.
But she’s pretty enough to have been intimidating when I first met her: “no way will I ever become friends with *****.”
She’s also a tiny little thing, but has incredible moxie.
It’s her pharmacy, just in-store in a supermarket, but she’s head honcho.
***** is turning out to be much more pleasant than I ever expected.
I first encountered ***** in a big-box pharmacy across the street from that supermarket.
She always looked mad; I don’t think I ever saw her smile.
Once she was assigned to give me a tetanus shot: “Uh-oh! Here comes angry *****. Gotta be on my best behavior!”
She’s not angry anymore; now I see “smiling *****!”
I realized I wasn’t seeing “angry *****” across the street; I was seeing “up-the-wall *****.”
Now that she’s on her own I see happy *****.
Which makes me happy too. What a joy seeing a happy girl!
She and her husband have two very young children.
Their little boy, currently age-6, is apparently a serious railfan.
I found this out because every year I give ***** one of my train-calendars, which she passes along to her little boy.
He’s thrilled with that calendar, and takes it to bed with him. He also has many of my train photos plastered all over his bedroom walls.
I still have many of my previous train-calendars on hand, so I went through ‘em so I could pass along previous calendars to her little boy, via *****.
I hadn’t seen ***** for a couple weeks — often it’s just her assistants or her husband.
Finally, the other day: *****. Hooray-hooray; “happy to see ya!”
***** is probably my favorite lady-friend; but mainly because we talk — and ***** loves talking.
“Talk-talk-talk-talkity-talk!” And I love talking too.
Two years ago she gave me a flu shot in her new pharmacy.
Shot finished, I thought she’d wanna leave immediately to go back to work.
Nope; she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. She wanted to talk!
I was dumbfounded: a pretty girl wants to talk to me? This is not the way I was raised.
Apparently I’m a rare bird; unlike most men I really enjoy women chattering with me.
It’s probably due to my childhood; that long ago I was told no attractive lady would ever talk to me.
“We could talk forever,” ***** once said to me.
“Yes we probably could,” I realized later.
“Boy I sure am glad I saw ***** today,” I thought to myself as I motored home.
I needed a pretty-lady fix, and ***** was perfect.
We talked and talked and talked some more. As follows:

“You said something about the DEC.”
(Department of Environmental Conservation, a state-of-NY bureaucracy).
“Is that along 5&20 west of I-390?”
“Left side.”
“Right side for me; I was driving bus in from the White Horse. It was a nice ride; a country bus-route. I passed that DEC coming in.
I have another question if you have time.”
(She stood there waiting — she didn’t walk away.)
(“DREAMIN’!”)
“You also said something about owning a farm. Does that make you a farm-girl?”
“Nope!”
“So is ***** (her husband) a farm boy?”
“Through and through! Lotsa soy-beans.”
“Corn?”
“Yep!”
“Any animals?”
“No animals; no horses, no cows, no goats, nothing. I'm not a horse-person.”
“How many acres?”
She rolled her pretty eyes skyward, trying to figger the math. “About 1,500,” she said.
“Holy mackerel!” I exclaimed.

Pointless yammering, but it sure is fun.
It disproves “No pretty ***** will talk to you, Bobby! You are EVIL and disgusting!”

• “5&20” is the main east-west road (a two-lane highway) through my area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where I live. It used to be the main road across Western New York before the Thruway.
• Interstate-390.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. 5&20 was part of a Park-and-Ride route in from Avon, NY.
• The “White Horse” was where I turned my bus around to come back in. That is the intersection of 5&20 and Route 15. I didn’t go as far west as Avon. A full-scale statue of a white horse is at that intersection.