You can figure out a guy’s personality his way by what his “go-to” drink is. So, watch and listen next time you sit at the bar, cross you legs, and dive into that peanut and cashew bowl.

If you hear,

“Excuse me,” He eases up to the bar and says”

“Martini, please.”

Next, he?ll say, “Hey, beautiful, where have you been all my life.” A martini guy is a player. He’s suave and debonair, he has charming lines makes you laugh, well, most of the time. He has friends who sail: he knows which champagne goes with oysters; and, his sister-in-law’s brother’s cousin lives the next street over from Jennifer Aniston. Another guy slides up behind your bar chair. His breath smells like onions.

“Scotch and water.”

He taps his fingers on the bar, swirls the ice cubes, and winks. He then pulls out his cigar, and talks to your boobs. ?His moustache gets wet when he drinks. Meanwhile Mr.Jeans and polo shirt leans in and smiles.

“Cabernet.”

He wears brown leather shoes, and listens to the Dave Matthews band on his Ipod?not at the bar, of course. He’ll ask you questions about tasty restaurants in town. He likes to backpack in the White Mountains and can do the black diamond runs and tells you just that. Then there’s…

“Your choice..”

This guy pulls wrinkled money from the front pocket of his jeans. He is the Sports Channel. My team lost today. Manager should have pulled the pitcher after the fifth. He pops nuts in his mouth, but misses a couple. They fall in your purse tucked next to your leg.

Oooh watch out another one is right behind you— Pay attention to what he drinks and make your decision about whether you are going to order something with those peanuts and cashews or head for the door.

  Filed under: Chick on the go, Chick-ism, Stuff that floats through this chick?s mind. by  Gwen  No Comments »

So much can be told from a guy’s shoes. They are what he stands in and stands for.

Sneakers suggest a guy is too casual, and that he works so much that he?never contemplates the thought of going out on the town. He thinks he will meet his dream girl in the supermarket over the frozen food section or while picking up a pizza. A bar and the frozen food section are one and the same it’s where one goes to pick up stuff at night.

Now, shoes that are too black and too shiny indicate he’s narcissistic. But, a nice pair of slightly worn leather kicks portend that he loves slowly and completely. He’ll make coffee in the morning.

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Fast food ahhhh! I don’t drive through the golden arches, my daughter doesn’t have Dunkin Donut holes on the weekend, and what does a bell have to do with a taco?

But, twice a year I’m naughty.

I visit my brother in Atlanta. When the airplane wheels touch the ground and the wings level off, I begin thinking of wings attached to chicken and I plan my first taste of a succulent chicken sandwich, waffle fries, and lemonade at Chick-fil-A.

I?m the first to buy at my local farmer’s market even getting the heirloom chicken there, the carrots, the cucumbers, the creamy freshly made yogurt but when I get on that Atlanta destination flight all reason flies out of the plane when the stewardess? closes the door. I become a different person a  butter-roasted juicy chicken sandwich seeking person.

Upon entering the Atlanta airport tram, I spy my first red and white Chick-fil-A wrapper, and my heart beats faster.

My brother picks me up at the airport?and I smile at the Chick-fil-A billboard on the highway. When did you last have a chicken sandwich, bro?
He furrows his brow hummm. Last week, I think.
He doesn’t know how could he not know!
I get to his house. Hug his wife. Unpack my clothes. So, I lean on his black kitchen counter, Any chance I could have the keys
Yeah, sure. You want me to get something for you He offers.
No, just thought I’d head out for a few minutes. I’ll be right back. Do you remember how to get where you are going My sister-in-law asks. I nod and extend my hand for the key drop.

As I drive up route 140, I swear warm chicken smelling fingers reach toward me to guide my way. At last the bright red Chick-fil-A sign welcomes me like an angel. I pull behind the trail of cars that awaits bliss in front of me. I gnaw a left hand nail in anticipation.
“May I help you,” I think the man inside the intercom says I love you. “Number one combo, please.”
My car eases toward the take-out window.
The window slides open.
The exchange occurs.
I feel and smell the golden package in my lap.
I can wait no longer. I plunge my hand into the paper bag, rip open the sandwich bag and chomp on the chicken. Each chew releases tingles on my tongue?and the fries are such happy companions to my chicken.

So much fast love wrapped in such a small red package.

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My relationship theory goes like this the distance a couple sits apart from each other in public has everything to do with how much they are together.

If they are in the first phase?the lust phase, they use no less than four touch points:

–the shoulders,

–the hands,

–the hips.

Their feet are definitely kissing.

Don?t bother saying excuse me. Neither love bird will hear you.

Two touch points, the shoulders and the knees, mean they have entered the love phase.

They don’t know what’s happening or where they are going, but they enjoy every minute of their bliss.

Both will acknowledge your presence, and they will smile simultaneously. Whatever conversation you choose to have with both or just one (good luck), optimism will rain down on you. You will believe that anything is possible?even the odd notion that toothpaste can be stuffed back into the tube.

When a couple enters the comfort stage, they may not touch at all.

In fact, one may be talking to the bartender while the other one discusses politics with a stranger. Their eyes reveal though; there is a deep knowing.

You can have an in depth conversation with one of the members of the duo and come away enlightened especially after the sharing of a good Tuscan wine. You will even know the best castle to explore while visiting Austria.

Questions have been answered by this couple. Eyelids blink slowly.

They?ve come upon a secret.

A together feeling a together secret no more performances are necessary.

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?

Coffee

?

You know that feeling?

?

That feeling you get when your friend just finishes his cup of coffee while sitting at your

kitchen counter?

?

He shifts on his stool in front of you, and?takes a breath?

and you ask,

?

?You want some more? Some coffee??

and you wait?

?

for another second?

but the time seems to stretch for a minute and then another minute and your head fills up.

?

What if he says, ?No.?

?

You will then have to take a shower and get ready for the day?

?

Find the unwrinkled brown corduroys?they are the only pants that fit because you had too much of your mom?s cheesecake last week; dig out matching socks; find both pads for your bra, search through the closet for the thick brown sweater, and brush your teeth which will remind you to clean the green toothpaste off the faucet handle that your three year old spit on two days ago.

?

And, oh yeah, you forgot to plug your phone in?the charge is low?so you have to remember to plug it into the car connection?so you can talk all day?

?

to everyone.

?

You left the letters on the car seat without stamps?so you have to get the stamps at the post office and there better not be a line because you don?t have time to stand in that long line with all the people picking their nose, rolling their eyes, and shifting their hips waiting and waiting and waiting in front of you.

?

But instead?

he says,

?

?Yes. Yes, I?d like some more. Fill it to the top.?

?

You breathe again. Take the top off the coffee pot and pour.

Pour until the brown liquid just licks the top of his cup.

?You want some more?

?Cream too???

right??

  Filed under: Stuff that floats through this chick?s mind. by  Gwen  1 Comment »

Grandmothers are like Sweden.

Sweden is a country that rocks?fashionable, solid, and full of people with names like Anja, Sofia, and Hanna who can do any winter sport with a smile.

The grandmothers in my world are like that.

One grandmother is my Swedish government-run child care system. (Did you know Sweden?s entire population has access to childcare so parents can work?)

When I?m working?who comes in to pick up during the vast time gap?Granny. She cheerfully tucks my little one safely into her car and takes her on adventures. Well?to her snow covered backyard where my little ?e? can run and practice those winter sports with a smile.

The other grandmother is my Swedish National Institute of Public Health (Their policies, by the way, include the statement that health is a key factor for sustainable societal development.)

Whenever ?e? has a cold?Oma has a wealth of knowledge to pass on regarding concoctions to assuage ills?honey and tea, salt and hot water, cold compresses for a fever, etc. And, then there is always the back-up call the next morning or in the evening.

My grandmothers climb trees, make snow angels, buy extra winter coats and hats with hearts, paint ceramic creatures with bright silver sparkles, find just the right fuzzy slippers for tiny toes, play with scarves and puppets, and know just how much to tug on soft hair matted and snarled from a nap filled with dreams of dragons and dinosaurs.

As a single mom, I don?t know what I?d do without Sweden in my life.

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?Mommy, I wish the world were a big heart,? my daughter says.

?You think of the best ideas,? I say.

?Love and pink and red everywhere,? she adds.

?That would be quite a world,? I say.

?So, today?like right now?can we make heart cookies?? She turns her head to the side and bats her eyes.

?You are four?what are you doing with those eyes!? I bend down. ?Where did you learn to do that??

?What?? She smiles.

?Four year olds don?t bat their eyes. I knew you were up to something!? I stand up and wipe the kitchen counter.

?Oh, please, mommy, I really, really, really want to make heart cookies. It?s my favorite thing to do.?

?I thought your favorite thing to do five minutes ago was to color dogs?and five minutes before that your favorite thing was to play ?Feed the Kitty,? and 5 minutes before that I thought making puzzles was your favorite thing to do?? I put my hands on my hips.

Her shoulders relax. She sighs. ?Mommy.? She twirls toward a stool. ?I would like a spot of tea.?

?A spot of tea?? I laugh. ?You make me laugh little girl! Okay, I shall make us tea with honey.?

?Oh, goody.? She raises her arms and hugs me.

?I guess we?ll need some cookies to go with the tea, huh?? I say. ?Heart ones??

?Yes.? She nods like she?s adding an exclamation point. ?Pink and Red.?

  Filed under: Parenting, Stuff that floats through this chick?s mind. by  Gwen  1 Comment »

I found a naked Barbie underneath the kitchen table.

Barbie has become my daughter?s companion; she loves to dress her, undress her, comb her hair, take baths with her, and drive in a pretend blue convertible around the living room floor on her way to the ? beach.? What is her attraction to that doll? The long legs that twist in every direction? The perfectly painted red lips? The shiny long hair? Perfectly pointed breasts? Polished toes?

I didn?t want that doll in my house, and made that fact known. Somehow Barbie crept in though?she always seems to find a way into little girls? homes. My little one practices on and with her?practices putting tight clothes on, practices brushing the hair, and practices dives into the deep part of the bath near the drain.

Do I tell her now that she shouldn?t look to emulate Barbie?she can never live up to the ideal?that idolizing her can lead to eating disorders?that no amount of micro-dermabrasion can create skin like hers?

Just when I get myself into a froth over this subject?I find naked Barbie carelessly thrown? under the kitchen table?her hair cut off on one side?her designer clothes lost in a crayon pile?dried playdough on her hands?and a thick red marker scribble across her stomach.

I take a deep breath?calm down?Barbie really is a little bit like all of us.

She has bad days too.

Written by Gwen Gardner

www.LittleChickieWear.com

  Filed under: Stuff that floats through this chick?s mind. by  Gwen  No Comments »

My relationship theory goes like this?the distance a couple sits apart from each other in public has everything to do with how much they are ?together.?

If they are in the first phase?the lust phase, they use no less than four touch points:

–the shoulders,
–the hands,
–the hips.

Their feet are definitely kissing.

Don?t bother saying excuse me. Neither love bird will hear you.

Two touch points, the shoulders and the knees, mean they have entered the love phase.?They don?t know what?s happening or where they are going, but they enjoy every minute of their bliss.

?Both will acknowledge your presence, and they will smile simultaneously. Whatever conversation you choose to have with both or just one (good luck), optimism will rain down on you. You will believe that anything is possible?even the odd notion that toothpaste can be stuffed back into the tube.

?When a couple enters the comfort stage, they may not touch at all.?In fact, one may be talking to the bartender while the other one discusses politics with a stranger. Their eyes reveal though; there is a deep knowing.

You can have an in depth conversation with one of the members of the duo and come away enlightened?especially after the sharing of a good Tuscan wine. You will even know the best castle to visit while visiting Austria.

Questions have been answered by this couple. Eyelids blink slowly.?They?ve come upon a secret.

A ?together? feeling?a ?together? secret?no more performances are necessary.

  Filed under: Stuff that floats through this chick?s mind. by  Gwen  No Comments »

So much can be told from a guy?s shoes. They are what he stands in and stands for. Sneakers mean a guy is too casual, and that he works so much that he never contemplates the thought of going out on the town. He thinks he will meet his dream girl in the supermarket over the frozen food section or while picking up a pizza. A bar and the frozen food section are one and the same?it?s where one goes to pick up stuff at night.
Now, shoes that are too black and too shiny, means he?s narcissistic.
But, a nice pair of slightly worn leather kicks means that he loves slowly and completely. He?ll make coffee in the morning.

So, listening to Chris Mann?s ?New York Time? this week, I was whisked away to thoughts of my man (with the nice pair of slightly worn leather kicks)?and a poem I wrote a while back?about a fictitious perfect man whom I could meet at a bar?say here in Newport. It went something like this:

Him
A man enters the bar tonight.
Not the kind that can ever be tamed,
Just one to watch from a distance,
With eyes so deep.

He has a slight sway in his hips,
Strength in his steps,
And hardness in his curves.

I like to see him lean against the wall
In front of me.

He?s like red wine,
Tart and sweet at the same time.

He stands and stares with a security of a thousand oceans behind him?
With each breath in and out?
Sending his wave in my direction.

It crashes into my chest.
An incoming tide,
Leaving a touch so fleeting,
Yet so permanent,
The kind I won?t forget tomorrow,
Or the next tomorrow.

I can feel now,
And the air feels so soft tonight.

I wrote him down, and he appeared?about three years after I wrote that poem?but still?fiction became non-fiction. Let it be said?writing creates reality.

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