Today has been partly cloudy & the wind has been chilly.
Grocery shopping is a chore to me. I hate having to do it, & can understand people who choose to use the internet, or only try to do it once a month or so.
Gom & I dont usually argue while shopping, but I am always ear-wigging on elderly couples who do. You know me, I love to watch & listen.
Feel sorry for the poor 'old girl', thin, & lined, with the portly man of the bright pink, porcine features snapping & grunting at her. Stopping her small spidery hand as she reaches for some little tin. With his porky, ham fisted
I bite down the urge to trip him up. Or loudly point out how thin his wife is, she could certainly do with a treat or two?
Feel sorry for the harrassed mother, with the one in the trolley, & the one in the oven. And the one in the trolley is grasping everything in sight, & loading it into the trolley. And wailing at full volume every time she takes the item out. Smile & wink at the one in the trolley. Hoping to distract. Occasionally rewarded with a beaming smile back. Or not. Perhaps an offended screech, & the LOOK! "Dont you dare smile at me!! WAHHH!"
And the mother absent mindedly pats the one in the oven, with a sort of "What the bloody hell was I thinking?" look. Or maybe she is doing mental deals- you know, the ones, 'Please let me get this one to behave & please dont let this next one be just as badly behaved. I will do anything,...anything.... honestly!!'
I recognise the signs of both generations. Now we are GOM & GOW, I get bossed about a bit. I get reminded what we do, & dont 'need'. I am not thin, & I sometimes fight back! And I grab it anyway! And GOM is happy to share it, once it is home.
And I remember the panicky feeling of "What the hell have I done?" When awaiting the birth of the next one.
There is 21 months between our son & our youngest, our daughter. Our son was such a cute, happy, lovely sunny little chap. Everyone loved him, & he loved everyone. "O goody" we thought, this is lovely, we are good at this! "Let's have another!"
And then, just before our daughter was due to be born, our son seemed to turn into some sort of minor 'devil'. He discovered he could have a tantrum. He discovered he could be demanding. And it was almost as if he suddenly realised he wasn't going to be the one & only Golden Child.
And by the time his little sister was born, he was well practised in the art of flying rages, & full blown tantrums. It seemed he learnt the art of the Terrible Twos a little early. Just to keep us on our toes.
At least he didn't kick people in the shins, like my little nephew. "Oh hello Dear" little old ladies would say to him, & bend down smiling. Only to be rewarded with a swift kick, or a scowl that would curdle milk. And they would rear back in fear & pain, & hobble away. He has grown into the most polite, lovely, man.
And the visit to the Fruit & Vegetable shop. Local produce. Smaller, perhaps, slightly spotted, or misshapen, but so much cheaper. And fresher. Lovely, cheery service.
Why do we get so accustomed to expecting fruit & veg to be perfect? It is sad. When home grown vegies were the norm, perfect didnt score much. Unless it was the local A & P Show. And surely there should be enough to share with a few insects & creatures? It is, after all, how the world was designed. To provide for everyone, & everything. And not everyone, or should that be 'anyone' can be perfect.
Think about the people you love most. Dont you find you forgive them their imperfections, the same as you hope they forgive yours. And, dont you often find the imperfections or supposed flaws, very endearing, appealing & attractive?
How did I get to this point in this post?? I think it must have written itself!
If anyone is reading, so sorry if I bored with self indulgent thought.
I am off on the cloud line, singing in the sunset. Humming to the rest after a busy day, out & about.
Chris Isaak, Pretty Girls Dont Cry.