Count to 10

I should learn to count. More specifically, I should learn to count to 10 before I blurt out what I’m thinking.

Oy.

Take last night. I was invited to attend an event for a philanthropic culinary organization that wants (wanted?) me to join. It was a lovely dinner, with lovely women, all very successful in the culinary world. (If you are wondering how on earth I could be invited to such an event, it really has nothing to do with my cooking abilities, and more to do with my involvement in the American Royal and other culinary-related work I conduct.)

I wanted to make a good impression on all of these fine ladies. So I did what I do best. I mingled and chatted.

I met two members who work for a large national chain of natural food stores. If you have ever walked into one of these stores, you will know they have a particular herbal, soapy smell to them. I happen to like this smell.

I should have kept that to myself.

Instead of blurting out “Oh, you guys smell like XXXX store.”

AWKward.

So then I tried to back pedal by telling them that in college, I worked at a locally owned natural food market and the smell always reminds me of that time.

Even more AWKward.

“Wine anyone?”

I really, really hope I did not just go up in flames as the “smells like” girl. But I kinda think I did.