Perhaps you remember awhile ago I wrote about a lady at the park, and about my strange guilt over not befriending her and going over to her house to eat lemon bars and listen to her speak sweetly about. . . I don't know, decoupage and diets and how she gets the stains out of her husband's shirts.
I felt guilty because I hadn't. . . well I hadn't really liked her, but I had fretted that I had hurt her feelings or missed some sort of opportunity.
Behold: McDonalds. 6:46 pm. Noah is "brewing beer" with his "friend, Aaron Galuzzi" and I am bribing the girls out of mutiny with ice cream sundaes and red box.
And who is sitting at the table in front of us?
Oh yes. Silly talker mom.
And do you know what she did?
She witched and moaned to her friend about how the kids at the playground are destroying the equipment that is paid for with her tax dollars. (Presumably by, you know. Playing on it.)
She said ". . . girls are just so dainty. So much more fragile".
It's true.
She embarrassed my Indy by staring and saying "that little girl has chocolate all over her mouth".
(Lady, did you see my three-year-old pointing to you and saying 'that lady is wearing a wind-breaker outfit from 1984'?)
She mentioned Glenn Beck.
I kid you not.
Ok, ok universe. I get it. I have never forgotten the time I dropped my mom off and drove away, and argued with a voice in my head for the full thirty minute drive telling me to go back and get her.
And when I got home, having not obeyed the voice, she was on the answering machine saying she had had a car accident and I had her proof of insurance in my car, could I please come get her.
So, I get it.
I will do my best never to ignore my instincts again.
If instinct says, sweet-talker mom is not appropriate friend material, I will listen.
And hey, if instinct says 'you must but a new pair of butterscotch colored leather boots', well, we wouldn't want to upset it, would we?
Right now instinct tells me to eat chocolate bunny. And so, I obey.
Over and out.
Ps: I would like to offer my sincere thanks to all of you sweet people who have said sweet things about my red hair.
Thank you. You are too kind. Reward yourself with a chocolate. My instincts are telling me you need it.
I think you should have mentioned her windbreaker and then followed it up with "Old people are so dainty you know." I'm mean. A mean, mean pastor's wife.
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