Which at one time was a 10 micron Racor. Now it's a piece of chain link fence according to one observer.
Anyway, grocery shopping. I was in no hurry and found myself behing a couple that had to be well into their 90s. I looked at them and figured they were high school sweethearts that had been together since Methusla was in diapers. They were both having a hard time getting around. A glance at my watch (something I actually wear in this day and age) and I knew I was in no hurry so I shadowed them and occasionally 'just happend' to be there to reach up or bend down to get something for them and thought that if one of them died at 10 am, the other would drop by noon and they'd have a double funeral together.
I envied them.
I actually enjoyed helping them out and when they were done I peeled off and grabbed the rest of my stuff.
There are two things I like doing in my old age, helping out those that are older than me and watching small children. The elderly are nearing the end of the line like I am and the small kids are at the starting line.
In the checkout line I was rather fortunate to be behind a toddler sitting in the shopping cart and her mother. The toddler was a handful! She was a real cutie and a real pistol. She was into everything. The mother seemed to be somewhat overloaded and was trying to keep up with the toddler, yet I seemed to realize the mother loved motherhood and was trying to raise the child with a sense of humor, an imagination and patience. That got my respect.
The toddler reached into the cart and I wanted to see what was going to happen next when she grabbed a container of yogurt and managed to get the top off of it. I anticipated a colorful mess in the making and surpressed a smirk when I saw the mother respond as fast as a rattlesnake. She grabbed the container and snapped the lid back on just in the nick of time.
When I pointed out that she had gotten some on her blouse she replied, "Oh, well. That's what they make washing machines for." I instantly realized the mother was the right woman for the job of raising such a hyperactive child. As exasperated as she seemed, she was clearly enjoying the perils of motherhood.
I was laughing myself silly watching the two of them. The toddler was comical as hell and in another sense, so was the mother. The toddler grabbed the yogurt again and I started laughing like hell.
A voice behind me said, "You know, that's not funny!"
Actually it was. It was hilarious!
I turned to see an upset snooty middle aged woman that made the comment and realized she was raining on my parade. I sometimes ignore people like but these days if you rain on my parade I will spit in your mess kit. Did I say 'spit'? I guess I misplaced an 'H' somewhere.
So to speak, in cases like this when I return fire I don't shoot anymore. Nor do I fence. I simply fix bayonet and go straight for the throat. It's far more satisfying. You get to hear them gargle their own fluids. I looked at her and went straight in for the kill. "I'll bet you're a really lousy piece of ass!" and watched her turn purple and get ready to explode. "People that have no sense of humor or sense of life generally are."
She was in a purple shock and clearly didn't know what to say. Finally she stammered out, "Well I DO have two children." in an outraged tone. Clearly she was in well over her head.
"Two, huh?" I answered. "How in the hell did you ever find someone willing to f*** you twice?"
With that the woman pulled her cart out of line and went about five registers down much to my joy.
Meanwhile the mother of the toddler was beet red yet supressing a huge smirk. She was clearly amused. She said to me, "I have heard that when one ages the filters come off." and laughed while at the same time grabbing something else out of the toddler's hand. Clearly she had eyes in the back of her head and was a pro at multi tasking. She was obviously a rare bird in this day and age. She was a good mother.
"I still have a few filters left," I protested, sheepishly.
"A piece of chain link face, maybe," she laughed.
I looked at her and told her she was clearly the right woman for the job of raising such a spunky little girl like her and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Thank you," she said and beamed and grabbed yet something else from the toddler.
"Could I make an ice cream cone date with her when she turns about four or five?" I asked. "I'll get the truth out of her. I like eating ice cream with five year old girls or splitting a half pint of bourbon with a men in their nineties. Either, or. She's too young to know any better and he's too old to care. Both are truthful." She laughed. Then grew thoughfully serious.
"My husband's father is in assisted living. he was in the Navy during WW2."
"I'd love to split a half pint of cheap bourbon with him," I said.
"I'm sure you would. He's a handful. I guess she gets it from him! I'd be afraid to see you two meet up!"
I think I'll call this my supermarket hat trick because I said or did the right thing to the right people three times in a row.
I'm off to pick up a half pint of Jim Beam and tuck it away in case I run into an old man somewhere.
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