By now most every person in North America knows what WalMart is; except perhaps Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson. But since Jessica thought Chicken of the Sea was chicken we won't count her. And Paris Hilton, who cares what she knows? The point is when we are traveling about and see a WalMart it always seems to make us, or at least me, feel more comfortable; more at home; more familiar with the new surroundings around me. I can speed shop in any WalMart after just 2 minutes familiarizing myself with the lay out of the store. I once did it every week, when I worked, on my lunch break. I could do a week's shopping in under 1/2 hour and make it back to work just under one minute of my lunch hour. I wonder if the Genuineness World Record has a record for speed shopping at WalMart? I need to check on that one. That's something I could have a chance of winning. IF.....I DID NOT HAVE TO SHOP IN A FLORIDA WALMART. In Florida WalMart's, I swear to you it is imperative you carry a cattle prod with you.
I'm sitting in a WalMart this week waiting for two friends. We, like most women, shop separately, even when we go together but set a time and a place to meet. Deb, JoAnn, and I are no different. I finished first and headed for the agreed upon bench. I think that's the day I started getting this cold (or allergy ambush) so I was in no stinkin mood to put up with old people. I know most of you are thinking, "WHAT? You're an old person!" Well, yes, technically I am old compared to a 40 year old....but to a 75 year old, I'm just a kid. So, fighting back this horrible sinus throbbing and sneezing fit and praying I don't wet myself at each sneeze I get behind an old man. And for the love of God, not just any old man. I swear to you George Washington could move faster than this man moved. He was doing the Tim Conway shuffle (remember his imitation of an old man's shuffle?) and with each shuffle he took he farted. As God is my witness this guy farted each time he shuffled. Trying to get by him so I could finally take a breath, I took a right and tried to bypass him. It's as if he had sonar because when I veered right he did to. And farted. I veered left to try to take him and again he beat me to the punch. And farted. I had a cart. He was a shuffling Tim Conway with his little cotton shorts pulled up to his boobies, dark socks and white tennis shoes. I thought dressed like he was no one would claim him and therefore seriously contemplated running him over with my cart. I glanced around to see if anyone was watching. But then he stopped dead in front of me. I thought perhaps he had a standing heart attack. Can that happen? Didn't matter. I knew someone would figure it out eventually so I made my getaway to the right. Breathing in fresh air (or as fresh as it can get at WalMart) I made a bee line for the appointed bench. I prayed no one was sitting on it because I really didn't want to have words with anyone. I felt light headed and my coughing was becoming more rapid. I rounded the corner like some mad dog after a ham bone and felt the rush of relief sweep over me. It was empty. I so wanted to lay down on it but figured the guy with the spiked hair do and shiny security badge would make me move so I tried as best as I could to seem alert. My butt on the mesh seat, my head resting on the cart I began watching people coming and going. Fat people, skinny people, tattooed people, people of all colors, little people, kids, parents. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. No one smiled. And then I heard it. The two little words that I regret to this day. Two words I said to my sons when they were younger. Two tiny words that I can never take back or time I can never have back with my sons. The mother was hurried; it was in her voice and on her face. She had most likely just gotten off of work and picked the kids up from the sitter. She knew there was dinner to make, homework to do, clothes to wash, and God only knows what else was on her plate that night when she finally made it home. Her little son said to her, "Mommy, can we get ice cream tonight?" "Not now", the mother told him, "not now. I don't have time." The little boy's face showed a slight sign of sadness. I thought back to how many, many times I said those two awful words to our sons. More times than I care to admit. Not now, son. Not now. Jack and I talked about it a few days later. He, too, wishes we could both get "do overs". But we can't. The one thing I know for sure is this; we no longer live in any of the homes our sons lived in as children. So the houses are still standing. We still have to do laundry and we don't starve and I'm thinking the boys would have been just as happy with PB&J's as they were with the well balanced meal Jack and I tried to provide for them. NOT NOW would never be in our vocabulary today, that's for certain.
Fighting back the tears, the cough and throbbing sinuses I was brought back to reality by another old man passing by. He let out a burp so loud I'm surprised he wasn't stopped at the door for grossness. Had I been the little guy with the spiked hair and shiny badge I would have found something to stop his gross ass about and then take him to the interrogation room and make him repeat twice Emily Post's etiquette chapter on burping in public. Finally my co-shoppers show up. I rise to greet them. And then the Tim Conway shuffler passes by. I guess you can't have a standing heart attack. Probably just a brain fart. I just knew if he shuffled any slower he'd be a year older by the time he made it to his car.
Didn't do our boat ride today. Still not feeling 100% so I passed, wanting to enjoy the boat ride, not blow my nose the whole way down the river scaring every bird and reptile in sight. Jack took a long motorcycle ride, stopped at the Shamrock bar in Floral City, drank green beer. This bar really gets into the St. Patricks day celebration. They had a person playing Irish Cd's and he said nearly everyone there was wearing the green hats along with other various costumes. When Jack got home he mowed the yard at the park model home where Joann and Wally's daughter and family were staying the next week. The park should have done it but they didn't get around to it. While mowing that yard he was propositioned by a neighbor to do their little 20' by 40' front yard for $10. He told her he would take care of it but instead of accepting the $10 he settled for a beer to drink while walking the mower home. I did pretty much nothing but make a list of things that I need to do. That's a start in my opinion. Have a great day.
A journal written about life, retirement and our journey throughout the United States in a 5th wheel, along with our two Shih Tzus, Tanner and Syndey. Written not for notoriety but for our sons, family and friends, so they know where we are at any given time. And particularly for ourselves. Finally, we get to slow down and smell the roses and we don't want to forget any of it. You are welcome to join us as we go 'Down the Road a Piece'.
