Baby Steps

I decided to continue learning my new skill today. My coworker who helped me decide on the bike came over and we rode around for an hour or so. Including tackling a hill of epic proportions! I swear, that bad-boy has an incline of, ok, it's so minimal that google maps doesn't even know. What's important, though, is that I did it. Twice! The first time wasn't as impress as the second, naturally, but, I did it.

I'm quite proud of that.

Oh, and my coworker came to FHE with me. Which is notable because he was raised Mormon, but doesn't go to church anymore. It's fun to get him to come to activities with me. I keep hoping he'll feel that pull back to his roots. We'll see.

Also, I ache. A lot.

Drama Queen Meets Mr. Impatient

I picked up my new bike last night. It's all shinny and new. And purple.

After picking it up I went to Bill's place so he could teach me to ride. We rode around on the black top of some random little school yard for a bit, then Bill insisted that we go on the street. Yeah, that wasn't a little scary!

Over the course of the evening a few things were brought to the forefront:
a) I'm all sorts of stupid stubborn;
b) When I get frustrated and in over my head I become a bit of a drama queen; and
c) He's impatient—which is ironic given that homeslice has a punctuality problem.

Add attempting to teach a grown woman to ride a bike, stir, and sit back as hilarity ensues.

Oh, and I was heckled by some vagabond in a park area because I looked so pathetic on the bike. I'm not saying she was wrong, I'm saying that being heckled by a woman in her situation in life is a good way to take a girl down a peg or three.

Old Dog, New Tricks

I asked a co-worker recently to take me bike shopping.

Why is this notable? Well, for all her love of extreme sports, this Granola Geek doesn't know how to ride a bike. True story. So, off we went.

Last week my coworker sent me an instant message, apparently, some girl at the office posted a bike for sale. It is exactly my size. He suggested I contact her and see if I could go see it. I did, and we made plans to go to her place on Saturday.

Meanwhile, I asked Bill if he wanted to come bike shopping at pawn shops with me. He said yes, but he had to take his car to the shop Saturday, and if I wanted to pick him up from the mechanic's and drop him off later we could go between those times.

I made all sorts of plans, and didn't tell the guys.

Fast forward to Saturday morning: I show up at the appointed meeting point, waiting for me is my coworker. I introduce the guys to each other, and then, introduce them to the girl. We look over the bike, I say, "Let me think about it..." and she leaves. The final call from my bike experts: Buy it. Buy it now!

I'm picking it up in 30 minutes!

And then going over to Bill's to learn.

I'm going to learn to ride a bike! I'm so excited!





and a wee bit scared.

I Don't Know How

To be happy for her.

Sweetheart is engaged. It's supposed to be an exciting time. One full of love and hope and joy and excitement for the future.

Unfortunately, all I'm feeling is tragedy and loss. She always planned on marrying a good Mormon guy. This guy? Not Mormon, and no plans to ever become so in the future. They're getting married by his Lutheran Minister who will only perform the ceremony if both bride and groom are active in his congregation. Which means—she has been going to a Lutheran Church lately. So much for her plans.

I can only hope she holds strong to her faith despite this. Somehow, and sadly, I doubt this.

I wish her the best of luck, she needs it now more than ever.

The Experiement

We all know that Bill is fond of yours truly. I mean, how can he not be? We spend a great deal of time together, including making trips to the kitchen to get beverages quickly.

I have decided to try an experiment. I call this experiment: "saying 'no'." Every now and again, I'm just going to turn his invitations down. Why? Not to manipulate him into realizing that he misses me, but because I need to not see him as much.

Late in the day he asked me to join him in the kitchen for water. I said I had to watch something for a few minutes, but if he wanted to wait, he could. He opted to not wait. I know it sounds benign, but it was a good thing for me. Hopefully I can keep this up.

Sync-up

I was chatting with Bill yesterday about boys who flirt with me but never seem to want to follow through with it. I said (roughly), in a bit of frustration, "They seem to forget that sometimes girls need to sync up and make sure we're on the same page. Once that happens, we can carry on."

"We're on the same page, right?" he asked. I assume the thought that I was talking about him a little bit, here, too.

"If by 'the same page' you mean 'just friends', then, yes, we're on the same page. If, however, that has changed, then, no—we're not." I knew what his answer was, and I didn't even allow myself that moment of self-deceit that it might be anything else.

Laughing he replied, "Nope, same page."

And that, folks, is that.

Glasses

It was about time I got new glasses, so I went to the eye doctor and had an exam. "Your prescription has hardly changed," she told me, "but if you want new glasses the selection is out there." I opted to pass.

A year later, I dropped my glasses on some rather rough cement and ended up gouging them. I went back to the eye doctor and asked them to put new lenses in my old frames. A week later I had new glasses.

And with them, a massive headache.

Either my exam went horribly awry, or they messed up on the glasses. It doesn't really matter which it is, because two days of headaches makes one sad Granola.

I'm taking them back tomorrow to have them fixed. And, I'm not paying for a new exam, or new lenses. They're going to fix the glasses or I'm going somewhere else.

Today's Wish

I wish I could tell every woman that I see at the gym what a beautiful body she has. Every single woman. To the woman who spends 4 hours a day working out and has a model physic--you are well rewarded for your efforts. To the woman who has just started working out for the first time in your life (or maybe again)--it will get easier. But, in the meantime remember, you have a beautiful body. To each and every one of the average women at the gym working maintain what you've got, or to lose those last 10 pounds: your body is also beautiful. Each woman brings something different, something unique, some color and shape to the fauna that is the gym locker room. I wish I could pull each of you aside, express to you in words that were neither creepy nor condescending, how lovely your body is--and then spend a few hours sketching you. Your life is reflected in the lines hidden by your clothes. I wonder if you know it. And, if you did, would you continue to be ashamed?

Title IX in a Bad Way

I decided to post this on my facebook account, and since we all know how ridiculously obsessively I guard my blog-privacy, I wanted to avoid being google-able.

If we're facebook friends, pop over there and check it out.

Otherwise, post a comment on this topic asking for it (contact info would be good at this point) and I'll get it to you.

Taking Charge

After shopping for furniture yesterday afternoon (Intern)Bill dropped me off with the goal to finish unpacking and getting his apartment organized. Honestly, yesterday afternoon I couldn't tell what he had done after I left his place Saturday. I'm sure he's worked on it, but there's so much stuff to deal with, it can be overwhelming.

I have offered him my assistance a few times and he has turned me down, but he is a bit frustrated that he's getting nowhere (which adds to the overwhelmed and then not knowing where to start so nothing gets done...).

Today I finally informed him: "So, I'm going to come over (not tonight) and I'm going to take care of your kitchen. And while I do that, you're going to deal with your bedroom. M'kay? (um.... since we know you won't take my help if I just offer it. But, if you really don't want me to come over I won't.)"

He said what he could, "I see. :P" and then, "Thank you. :P"

I think that may be tomorrow night since we're also going to see The Dark Knight at the midnight showing!! Might as well make it one long day of eachotherness.

All Day

This afternoon (Intern)Bill, N (from the previous post) and I made a quick run downstairs to grab something to drink (Juice!!). While standing in line to pay N mentioned that he had gone to the gym with (Intern)Bill this afternoon. I was surprised and he said, "Oh, I assumed he had told you that, since he talks to you all day."

"He talks to me all day?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Well, he talks to someone all day. He has a special chat window open for them, and their picture is a penguin. That's not you?"

"A penguin?" I asked, then turned to (Intern)Bill, "You chat with someone all day long, and they have their own window, and their picture is a penguin?"

He laughed. We both know the answer to that.

When I got back to my desk I sent him a message, "I should change my picture just to screw with N." I did, but I missed my cute little penguin, so I changed it back.

PS, it's a Linux penguin.

Working Out For You

Monday afternoon the guys asked how the Eddie Izzard show was, and who I took. I told them (Intern)Bill and immediately was on the receiving end of the third degree. They asked if we were dating and I said 'no'. Then they asked who pays for dinner when we go out and I said that we take turns. The questions went on and on and on.

Near the end they asked, "What would he say if we asked him all these questions?"

"That we're not dating."

"Are you sure?" Positive. Sorry guys. I was quickly warned to stop hanging out with him, now that I'm in the 'friend zone.'

Later at FHE one of the guys asked, "So, Girl, how's that going with (Intern)Bill anyway?"

"We're NOT Dating!!" I loudly proclaimed.

"Who's this?" the cute guy standing nearby asked.

"Oh, one of my buddies from work." And, really, tragically, that's all we are—buddies from work.

Tonight as we were out buying more furniture (yes, yes, I know, thanks) I was teasing him and said, "And then A. (a colleague) will ask, 'So, what's going on between you and Granola?'"

"Oh," he said casually, "N. already asked—well, he implied—and I had to tell him 'no, we're just friends.'"

We'll see how long we can keep up this 'no, we're just friends' business before we breakdown and either (a) hook up; or (sadly) (2) just stop hanging out together. And, honestly, yes, ok, I feel like we're dating except I'm the only one who gets butterflies when we see each other.

Censorship

The topic of the hour was pornography.

And whether or not the government should censor it.

To make a point (Intern)Bill asked, "So, what about those magazines in the supermarket checkout? Should they be allowed to sell those?"

Quickly stepping around his straw man I said, "I'm not going to disagree, Cosmo, et al, are pornography for women."

"Exactly. How do you feel about them?"

"Actually," I replied with a smile, "I turn them around."

"You turn them around?" he queried incredulously.

"Yup." And, I do. I really wish you had to ask for the Cosmo just as uncomfortably as you have to ask for a Hustler or Playboy.

Context Unimportant

"So, now you're going to go out and start hooking up with young boys?" (Intern)Bill declared in a questioning tone. I really don't remember where this came from, but I assure you, context is unimportant here.

I turn my head to make eye contact, while raising my eyebrows. Beat. "You would be so lucky!" I say with a drip of attitude.

I was promptly complimented on the best possible retort. After our laughter died down he said nothing more on that.

First Impressions

"You know what you need to do," he said pausing for dramatic effect, "dress up in fishnets and a tight top and knee-high stiletto boots!"

We're talking about my HS reunion. This is (Intern)Bill's idea of an excellent way to make an impression on my graduating class.

"Uh, no." I quickly shoot down his idea before his description succeeds in making me sound like a hooker—alas, it was too late anyway. "I grew up on the 'wrong side of the mountain.' Some of them would probably expect it from me. No, if I really wanted to shock them, I would show up looking like a yuppie."

"YES!" he practically shouted, "This is an excellent idea!! Let's go shopping!"

"The only way I could pull of 'yuppie' is if I had an equally yuppie man on my arm. And since you're not coming, I guess I'm out of luck."

He continued to try to convince me that this really is a good idea.

We'll see if it rears it's head again any time soon.

Preppy to Yuppie An Easy Switch

(Intern)Bill is, as has been noted in this space before, a prep. I find it equal parts hilarious and depressing.

Friday I noted that he is no longer a 'prep' and is now, officially, a 'Yuppie.' Disgustingly, he was thrilled about this.

I Like to Move It, Move It

I had offered my services to assist (Intern)Bill with his moving. He took me up on it. Friday night when we were making plans for Saturday he told me to give him a call at noon. Noon?? Wow, that's generous. When offering my moving assistance I usually plan on 7 or 8. 9, if they really love me. With my morning unexpectedly free, I decided to go for a hike. Snoqualmie Point (which converges with the Rattlesnake Ridge trail), I determined, would be my destination.

After I got back and cleaned up I was ready to call (Intern)Bill. He beat me to it. Seems there had been a situation involving his stuff and the elevator. He wasn't sure how long it would be, but if I had other things to do, I might as well do them.

I went grocery shopping.

At 2 he called me to ask me to pick up a broom on my way over.

When I got to his place it looked like the movers had just dumped everything in the middle of his living room and run away. I had no idea where to start, but I knew it involved organizing the living room first.

We rearranged, unpacked, dusted, moved, re-rearranged, discussed, made multiple trips to his corporate housing apartment and back, and moved some more. Finally I determined we needed a few things:
1. dish soap so I could clean up some dishes and get those out of the way
2. sponges to use on the dishes
3. dish rags
4. sheets for his bed—we tried to make it, but he couldn't find the sheets he wanted, and the few sets he had didn't fit and/or failed to match his hideous bedspread with which he is in love. (I tried to find a picture for you, but I can't. Just trust me, it's bad)
5. a shower curtain

We went to Target and spent nearly $400.

Then he took me to dinner to thank me for my help.

And, we returned to his apartment to do some damage with our new purchases. I started a load of dishes, and a load of wash containing the new sheets. And set to work washing more dishes by hand.

I finally left his place at 2:15 this morning. Despite the fact that I'm a tough girl I made him walk me to my car—he lives in Chinatown, for Pete's sake! As we were walking to my car a scruffy-looking vagabond crossed the street in front of us and paused to leer. "That," I said under my breath, "is why you're walking me to my car."

We reached my car and he gave me a huge hug, thanking me for my help. "Hey, tonight," I instructed, "really wait for my text, I'm pretty tired."

"Will do," he replied.

The text in question is a safety feature Nanny, Sweetheart and I started last year. When we would leave each other in the evenings, whoever was driving home had to send a text to the person whose house we just left. It was usually a very brief exchange, something to the effect of, "Home safe and sound. Night." To which the (mandatory) reply was frequently "ok. night." Nothing deep, but we knew how long it should take, and would call if it wasn't forthcoming.

A couple weeks ago I sent that text to (Intern)Bill who didn't reply. The next day I told him that he's supposed to reply to those, and explained their purpose.

Last night after I sent the text he hadn't replied, but I figured that he had probably received it. I fell into bed and was nearly asleep when my phone rang. I answered, and then he hung up. I called back. "You took so long to send me the text I was worried, but I got it just as I called you."

To be honest, it was great to hear his voice wish me a good night over the line. That's one of my favorite times of day when I'm dating someone—that last little phone call to say 'good night.' I know this wasn't that, but I'm going to enjoy it as if it were.

The Saga

"Hey Granola!" comes my Thursday morning greeting.

"Hey," I say back, making as if to pass by on my way to my desk.

"Um," he says, interrupting my movement, "were you the one who wanted Eddie Izzard tickets?"

"YES! I so want to go see him!"

"Well, it's a long story, but my friend has some tickets that he's not going to be able to use, would you be interested?"

Here, I try to contain my excitement, "Well, honestly, it depends on what day, and how much."

Understanding he says he'll ask his friend.

While waiting I mention (perhaps with intent to invite, but at this point, it's just a passing mention) the potential tickets to (Intern)Bill. "If that is an invitation, I would love to go!" I'm informed. It just became one.

Hours later the numbers are in: Friday night, $150 a piece. There's no way. Just no way. I turn him down, but offer the tickets to two of the guys from my team. They both indicate that we're all in the same boat: love to go, but not at that price. I relay this information to my coworker, and am a little bummed, but I can't justify that kind of expense.

Friday morning I check my email, "My friend will take whatever to offset the lost cost." I'm informed, "So, you should take them for whatever will allow you to go."

A flurry of discussion transpires over im between (Intern)Bill and myself. I am willing to spend $50. He suggests I try for $40, I can always go up to $50. I make the offer, saying that $40 is about my limit, but I would feel terrible offering that low.

10 minutes later I have a reply sitting in my inbox. I pop it open, and then quickly inform (Intern)Bill (who, by the way is planning on spending the weekend moving): "You're going to have to pack Saturday morning. We got 'em for $40!"

The show freaking rocked!

Bittersweet

Apartment hunting.
Furniture shopping.
Painting
Decorating.
Moving.

All of these things I am doing with (Intern)Bill. I'm surprised at how bittersweet it feels. I almost feel like I've wasted these experiences on someone with whom I'll never be.

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. I wasn't supposed to feel.

I wonder if he does?

Changes

Post-DTR (define the relationship), not much has changed between (Intern)Bill and me. Tuesday he asked if I wanted to go to a concert with him. Tickets were $40 a pop. I asked if he was paying and he said 'sure.'

I turned him down and went to the Temple instead.

It was slightly empowering.

Quiet Kisses are so Hardcore

I'm loving A Softer World. And, I'm really loving this strip.

Looking Good

Ripe from the fun rejection of last night, I determined that today would be a great day. I got up for church and got ready, taking extra care to look my best.

I looked pretty good, and received the compliments to prove it.

Take that! you silly boy! I don't need you to look good, so there!

Definitions

It's been two weeks. We hang out nearly every day. ... and... nothing...

After he dropped me off last night I decided it was high time (Intern)Bill and I defined the relationship.

"I've been thinking," I said 2 hours later over an instant message, "it's time we had that talk neither of us want."

He wasn't overly to jump on that boat, and I can't really blame him—I've been putting it off for far too long.

"So," I started, "is this just a friends thing or are you looking for more?" Yeah, why beat around the bush?

He told me quite nicely that the last thing on earth he wanted was to lead me on (um... too late), and he was wondering if I was feeling that way (yes, you dummy), but, he just wants us to stay friends. (Was that too hard?)

"Perfect!" I declared, triumphantly, thanking my lucky stars I had this chat over im, "I was hoping we were on the same wavelength on this one!"

We talked for a few more hours as if nothing had happened.

Then I logged off and had my quick cry. Not terribly good for the ego, but looking down the road, I'm sure glad.

Scratch, scratch.

My head itches.

So, I scratch. And, then I notice what I hope are flakes in my hair. I look in the mirror—definitely flakes. Well, we can rule out lice (don't know how I would have gotten that, but, I'm always paranoid). I look more closely and start analyzing the area and size of the flakes. It can't be dandruff, I'm certain. Only part of my head itches. Then, it dawns on me: last Saturday I burnt the part in my hair. And, now, my sunburn is peeling.

I'm not really certain how to stop the peeling, or make it look less gross, so I scratched as much as I could and brushed it really well. I may just have to wear a hat today.

Furniture

(Intern)Bill is moving into his apartment next weekend. He asked me if I wanted to go furniture shopping with him "the weekend of the 12th." I told him sure, but it would have to be on Saturday, because I don't do things like that on Sunday. He agreed to that.

Later I told him that I wouldn't be going backpacking this weekend. And, he asked if I wanted to go scout furniture this Saturday, to buy next Saturday. I said sure, then he asked if I had any errands to run. I just have to get the car aligned. So, we'll be doing that! Fun times!

Yes, silly made up reasons to spend time together.

I wish he would kiss on me already.

Sunglasses

(Intern)Bill over paid for a pair of sunglasses yesterday. Then, he asked my honest opinion. Which I gave.

I told him I liked his old pair better and teased him a little bit about the new glasses.

Tonight when we were getting ready to go out he said he was going to wear the new glasses. I teased him a bit more about them, then said he could wear them if he liked, but if he wanted my opinion, the other pair were better.

He wore his old pair tonight after all.

Context Adds Nothing

"...If I were to show up to work in full cabaret dress I think only about 3 people would be ok with that." I declared.

"I wouldn't be complaining," he reassured me.

(Logical) Friday

Since we have tomorrow off, tonight is, essentially, Friday night!

I asked (Intern)Bill if he wanted to do something, so we decided to get some dinner then go to the Seattle Art Museum. The final option was an Indian Restaurant neither of us had ever heard of before.

Dinner was nice enough. It wasn't delicious, but we enjoyed it ok.

Afterwards the server asked us if we wanted dessert. We declined and asked for our bill. When she returned she had a bowl with two spoons and the billfold. "Here's some dessert for you both." She said with a smile, and left us to it.

We determined it was rice pudding (definitely not vegan), so it was all his. He enjoyed it, but I am still a little curious why they gave us complimentary dessert when the lady at the table next to us (who helped identify the dish) didn't get one. Perhaps telling was the fact that there was one bowl and two spoons. I think they were trying to help us out. Cute!

We ended up at the art walk instead of the SAM, which was just as well by me. On our way back to the car we were propositioned by a beggar who (Intern)Bill gave a buck. The man then started talking to us a bit. At about the point he started touching me (despite the couple of times I moved away) I was ready to go. (Intern)Bill's phone rang, and he took the call. A very long 30-60 seconds later he looked at me and said 'You know what...' I pounced, "We gotta go?" "Yeah," he confirmed and I made my excuses to our street host. Afterwards I learned that it was his father calling to chat.

White Water Rafting!

My ward went white water rafting on Saturday! It rocked!

At one point we hit a nice size wave (later estimates were 'about a 3'). I went flying out of the boat and despite efforts to grab a hold of either the boat or the person next to me, I ended up in the water.

As I surfaced our guide hollered at me, "Hand me your paddle! Hand me your damn paddle!!"

I tried, but was inches too short.

My option quickly became: swim through the rapid. Remembering the safety talk we received just hours before I got into the "white water swim" position: essentially, on your back, feet down stream, but above the water, head out of the water, and butt lowered. And then, I did all I could to get air when my head was out of the water.

Eventually we made it through the rapid (which was more 'one good sized wave and a bunch of rough water') and the boat came back for me. They hauled me in (very ungracefully) and we were off!

I was just as enthusiastic, but one of my boatmates later declared, "When you went in, that kind of killed it for me." Too bad, honestly, 'cause those things happen.

We had planned to make two trips down the river—with everyone going just once. I managed to get in on the first trip, in hopes of weaseling my way into a second. My wish was granted, but I had to go down in a row boat. Less fun, but still on the river.

The guide from the first trip saw me at the put-in and asked with a hint of surprise, "You're going again?"

"Hell yeah!" I replied, "Erm, I mean, 'Yeah! of course!'" The second ride wasn't as great, but I was glad to be able to go down again.

Curb Your Enthusiasm!

Friday night I had to run to the grocery store. On my way I went over this (tiny) hill that I usually take a bit too fast. This time, I was a bit faster than normal. I caught too much air, and wasn't able to make the turn in time. I ended up taking both right tires over the 4" curb. And taking out a 6"x6" 18" tall wooden post. Thankfully the post wasn't terribly deep, and was terribly rotted. Still, I was a little shaken up.

Since (Intern)Bill had just left I called him but got his voice mail. I left a message asking him to call me back.

Then, I got out of the car to inspect the damage. Practically nothing. Yay!! Basically, I scrapped the front bumper a little bit, and definitely messed with the alignment, but other than that, no damage as far as I can tell. Thankfully!

I called him back and left a new message saying that he didn't need to call me back. It was all ok.

An hour later my phone rang. He had just picked up his messages and, he said, even though I said not to call me back he thought he might anyway. He did offer me moral support, which I wanted, but told him I didn't. Probably should have taken him up on it. C'est la vie!

Dinner and a Show

After work (Intern)Bill and I headed to his apartment to drop off some boxes and pick a place for dinner. We ended up at this nice vegetarian place I had heard mentioned more than a time or two.

After a few minutes to decide the waitress came over to us to take our orders. I asked her what she recommended, and she pointed out a few options, then mentioned one of their more popular dishes. "This one has a lot of cheese in it, so it's kind of a comfort food for the meat eaters who come here." I looked up at her, and noticed her looking directly at (Intern)Bill.

"How'd you pick him as the meat eater?" I inquired.

She denied having done so, but after she left we discussed it. The conclusion we made was that it's far more likely for a girl to be vegetarian than the man. It couldn't have been that I looked particularly 'Earth Motherly,' because I didn't.

We placed our orders and were quite pleased that it turned out to be delicious.

When the bill came I went to pay (I did do the asking, after all), he said he'd pick it up, then had the embarrassing moment when he realized that he had lost his bank card just the day before (I was with him—he really did). I said I'd pay, and it wasn't really an issue. Good thing I didn't have a problem with it, because when I went to pay with my American Express I was told they didn't take them, and I'd have to use my Visa. His only other card is an AmEx, so, at least this way I was prepared to pay. The bill ended up being nearly $50. I had no idea!

After dinner we rushed to the show. It was a great performance. Afterwards he brought me home and we sat and talked for a bit before he had to leave. I am already at that point where I don't want him to leave. Pathetic since we haven't even kissed yet!

Oh! Nice!

Last week InternBill (hmm... perhaps FullTimeBill is more appropriate now that he has a grown-up job) and I went to the Symphony—a date we've been planning for months (literally) now. We had decided to go directly to dinner from work, which necessitated dressing up for the day.

I put on some nice slacks (which look particularly good, if I do say so myself), and a nice blouse, did my hair, donned on some sexy shoes, and off I went.

Mid-way through the day (Intern)Bill had me go over to his office. I ran into one of his office-mates who said, "Hey, Granola. You both look so formal today." "Well, uh..." I said, not wanting to say too much. "Bill told me about the symphony." "Ah, yup." I said casually. Then we parted ways. I walked into the office, and (Intern)Bill stood up, and said, "Do you approve?" "Nice!" was my outward reply. Internally, however the commentary went more like this, "Mmmmmhhhmmmm! I like those slacks! Yeah!" "You look nice, too." He said. Which would have been far less awkward if his other officemates hadn't been sitting right there.

Later that afternoon I walked down to chat with my coworkers. Boris (um, the token Russian on the team) and I exchanged some words over the cube wall before I rounded the corner. His expression changed, and he gave me the once-over, "Oh! Nice!" He said approvingly, before realizing what he had said.

Yup. Nice.