Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Just take a second.


    PARKING LOT -- Don’t look at me, it wasn’t my idea to be here. I’ve got to remember to bring a book when I go to town with Kay. She’s a tricky girl, this one.

Each time Kay and I head for town I’ve got our itinerary mapped out perfectly in my mind. Yet, somewhere along the way I hear, “Oh, can we stop at the office for a second? I need to drop something off.”  Or “Oh, would you pull into Hobby Lobby? I’ll just be a second.”

Fifty-three percent of all lies have the word “second” in ‘em. Or, minute. They’re one in the same. They can mean anywhere from 20 minutes to a couple of hours. “Just be a second.” Some lies have both. “Oh, just a second. Do you have a minute?”

Look, just tell me. Don’t ask and don’t try to flower it up for me. -- “Hey, Sweetpea, I need to go to the office to see the girls. You do what you do. I’ll be 40 minutes.” If you tell me something like that I don’t feel quite so violated.

The worst place is Hobby Lobby. That parking lot is about 16 acres of heat reflective concrete. You’ll have to go to Willis before you find any shade.

Of course, I could go into Hobby Lobby with Kay, but after I’ve fingered all the balsa wood rockets and model airplanes, I’m ready to leave. Kay can graze in that place for hours. Do you know how many beads and buttons there are to touch in Hobby Lobby? Nobody does.

That’s why I was so disappointed about not bringing a book. And then a thought hit me. Bonk! Why don’t I get you involved? No use suffering alone. Hey, I’ve dragged you to a lot worse places. 

Besides, I’ve got something for us to do. I call it noticing-how-people walk. No, don’t you dare get out of the car. This will be fun or else I wouldn’t have asked. Well, that last part was a lie, but still stick around.

Let’s all focus our attention on the bank entrance just across that grassy area over there. We’re minutes away from noon and that place is hopping. Right now we’re just focusing on men. We’re going to profile men by their walk. I don’t think anyone has ever done that. Probably because it’s stupid.

But, who are we? Right, we’re the trapped ones. Okay, look at the guy who just stepped up to the sidewalk. He looks near death. Slouched over; he’s got short, foot-dragging steps. He’s barely alive and hating every minute of the time that remains.

But, wait! The lady isn’t going to hold the door for him. It’s about to close and—Look at him! Perked up and almost ran to catch the door. But, then… He’s back to his slouch. How sad.

You don’t want to start a conversation with this guy. He’ll suck the joy right out of you. Take my word. I’ve used that walk. Two days ago, in fact.

And, here comes mister fast walker guy. Get out of his way, lady! Oh, my word, that was close. He walks with his arms away from his side. Like a weight lifter or uh, what? Gorilla. He walks with a purpose, but he doesn’t really have one. He has no reason to hurry, but you can’t tell him that. You don’t wanna be around the guy when he’s driving. Especially on a two lane road. If he can’t go around you, he’ll go through you.

I’ve pretty well summed up his life. I’ve used that guy’s walk a time or two, also. Something in the ol’ brain just says, “Hurry up! I just wanna get this over. Out of my way, people!”

You know, this game isn’t as fun as I hoped. Don’t know why you thought of it. Let’s do something else. Tell you what, let’s play what-book-would-you-read-if-you-had-one. I’ll go first. No, I don’t wanna hear another word from the backseat. I’m going first.

At the moment I’m reading two books. I hate it when I do that. I start one and somebody comes along and tells me I “must” read something else… immediately. I was almost at an interesting part of a book suggested by Tracy. That’s the lady from “A Novel Idea” bookstore out on 105 West. They sell used and new books. Mostly used. Those are the kind I like best.

Tracie suggested “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” She said that after the first 100 pages, it supposed to get really good. At least that’s what her customers have told her. She’s yet to try it.

What agent or editor, picks up a manuscript and sticks with it through 100 pages of bad beginning? They wouldn’t do it for me, but they’ll sure do it for Stieg Larsson.

So, I was almost up to the interesting part of the Dragon book when Kay comes to me in tears and hands me “Same Kind of Different as Me.” You’ve got to read this book. Did I mention she was crying?

Her friend Linda -- somewhere in the office building behind us -- loaned her the book. Kay cried practically all the way through it. Handed it to me and said she wanted to pass it on to Virginia, but that I had to read it first.”

So, I’m between books at the moment. I haven’t cried yet during “Same kind of different” but I’ve been on a roller coaster ride of joy and depression. How can people be so mean to other people? Pre judging. That’s what it is. It’s kind of like categorizing people by the way they walk. Which one of you came up with that lousy idea?

So, if I had a book right now, I’d want it to be “Some kind of Different”, so I could get through it and get back to the Dragon tattoo. Of course, by the time I get there, I will have forgotten all the Swedish character’s vowel-free names and I’ll have to start over. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to do that.

Okay, that’s it, people. I can see in the side mirror that Kay is now leaving the building. Everybody out! No shoving and don’t leave anything in here. -- “What? No, Sweetie. They’re just fellow roofsitters that I called on to help me pass the time. A couple of ‘em said that you have a nice walk.

“Okay, where to now? Oh. Hold on. – Hey, everybody! Meet me at Hobby Lobby! We’ll only be a second!”


To watch Mark and Brad's review of Shmo's restaurant, click on pic. 


1 comment:

  1. Thankfully, hubby likes Hobby Lobby, most of the time. We don't shop well together. Believe it or not, I can outdo him, in Lowe's or Home Depot. I prefer them, over Hobby Lobby, any day!

    I don't read much, except blogs, but that book (Same Kind...) looks like my kind of book. I just might be forced to check it out. Good excuse to cry, though I rarely need one.