Something happened this morning that I'm feeling a little ambivalent about. Went for my usual walk, wearing running shoes, old Bermudas, yesterday's dirty tee shirts, and the baseball cap from my brother-in-law's no defunct construction company.
And what should happen?
As I walked by a trio of gardeners putting in new pavement at one of the tony houses in Upper Outremont, one of them said quietly: "Mais, que madame est belle." And then as I got closer, he said it directly to me, "comme vous êtes belle, Madame."
There was a time when I might have been offended, when I might have scowled, thought some nasty thought about men who have no manners, who are rude and sexist.
But, damn, that time was a long time ago! A grandmother like me who's well past the usual retirement age can't help but feel more complimented than offended!
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