the viv.

When Worker Man and I lived in our first house [tear.] we had the sweetest neighbors.


Vivian and Garland.
I'll have to tell you about them.  Maybe sometime soon.  They were something else. 

Vivian is the epitome of a Southern Belle.  She is in her eighties and always dressed to the nines.  In a sweet little blouse and "slacks" and little old lady shoes.  Her hair is always perfect.   And she always has on her jewelry, just the right amount of "rouge" and a little lipstick. 

When I first met her I fell in love.
She's just the sweetest thing.

Not long after our first meeting, I affectionately dubbed her "The Viv".
Without her knowing.  Because ummm...she is NOT a Viv.  She is a Vvvviiiviannn.  Like in the most southern belle-ish accent possible.
I always address her as Vivian but when I tell a story about her or mention her name to Worker Man, I always call her The Viv.  It just caught on and stuck.

The more I called her that, the more I worried that I would actually call her that to her face or at least in front of her at some point.  But, as many times as it almost slipped out, I never actually did it in front of her. 

Since we sold our house, I haven't seen her.  I keep meaning to stop by to visit but sadly I just haven't made the time.

Well fast-forward to this past Sunday. 

Worker Man and I went to breakfast after the early service at church.  We went to eat at this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant [my absolute favorite kind] and as we were finishing our meal, I look up and there comes The Viv walking through the parking lot.

I got so excited and immediately jumped up and got the door for her [we were sitting really close to the door - just so you're not imagining me running through the restaurant to get the door].  I gave her a huge hug when she came in and we talked to her for a little while until the people she was eating with arrived. 

So, I got through the entire conversation, and just as she's leaving I wave and say:

"Oh, it was just so good to see you Viv!"

And as she kinda cocked her head to the side, gave me a funny look, and started to walk away.

I just looked at her, horrified.  I had made it for two whole years without ever slipping up.  And then I yell "great to see you Viv" as she walks away.


Guhhh, I better find her a really good Christmas present!