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Living the Life of Holly |
Column # 206: Rather
Talk to Kids
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Watching shrimps contemplate
shrimp is enough to lighten anyone's day... |
Photo coming soon |
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Living the
Life of Holly
Her five-year-old brother adjusted his heavy winter coat and leaned down next to her. “Where? Where’s garbage?” “There!” She pointed to the neatly stacked rows of raw shrimp ready for sale in the fresh seafood section of the grocery store. He stood quickly and sighed. “That’s not garbage. That’s shells for people to make stuff with.” “Eeew.” She pressed her nose in closer. “But it smells like garbage in there.” He carefully moved some bottles of cocktail sauce out of the way and pressed his whole body against the case. Once his nostrils flattened against the glass he inhaled deeply. “It does smell like burned toast or sompin.” I watched the shrimps eying the shrimp, knowing it isn’t everyday you get to eavesdrop on such great conversation. Um. Does shrimp smell like baked bread? Figured I should go to the source. “Does it really smell like burned toast?” The kids turned quickly.” “Yeah.” Boy said. “Really.” Girl backed away, “Try for yourself.” The smudged cases didn’t look inviting. “No.” I laughed. “I believe you.” “What’d you gonna buy?” Boy asked. “Shrimp.” “What for?” Girl asked. “My dinner.” The looked back into the case. “Which one’s the shrimps?” Girl asked. “The brown ones.” “Eeew.” Boy scrunched up his face. “Eeew.” Girl added, pinching her nose. “You gonna eat that?” I laughed again. “Yeah. They taste pretty good when they’re cooked. And they look better, too.” Girl talked through her pinched nose. “Why don’t you eat a hamburger? That would taste good and smell good too.” The people standing on line joined in a good laugh. If the line didn’t pick up soon, we might all consider beef for dinner. Just then a woman pushing a full shopping cart with a baby in the front seat and a toddler in the back marched up and pulled Boy’s arm. “Now. Let’s go. You know better than to leave me.” Girl followed without out a word, but turned to me, pinched her nose closed with one hand, and waved goodbye with the other. Darn. Now what was I going to do while I waited? “How’ya going to cook your shrimp?” A voice said from behind me. “Huh?” I spun around to see a tall man with a striped tie smiling down at me. “Not sure.” I shrugged. “I’m thinking something with lemons. Any suggestions?” “No, no, no.” He shook his hands back and forth. “If it can’t be made on a grill, I don’t touch it.” I smiled. “Faster clean up that way, isn’t it?” “I find it’s easier to cook for one when I use a grill.” Warning. Warning. The red light in my head flashed. This man was going to ask me out. Was I interested? I had about two minutes to decide. “Sure…” He continued. “I can make a mean pasta dish and am known for my lasagna.” “Quite an accomplishment.” I half-smiled. I didn’t want to tell him I was gluten intolerant and couldn’t eat noodles or lasagna. Man. Talking to kids is a lot more fun. They have no agenda. “I love to make desserts, too. You wouldn’t believe how smooth my chocolate cream pie is.” Ok. Now he was bragging. And. The number one rule of having a conversation with someone is to ask them questions about themselves. He was failing conversation 101. “That’s not so easy, is it?” “I do love to go out to eat, too. Fine dining is my favorite. Have you been to John Elway’s new restaurant?” OhmyGod. Fine dining? Um. More like expensive, upscale McDonald’s. Well. With steaks. Ok. Game over. I was officially NOT interested. “So. What number do you have? They sure are taking a long time serving us fish, aren’t they?” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Maybe it’s a sign that we should leave and go and find some dinner. To heck with cooking tonight!” Yeah. I know. But I figured he would just give me his phone number. Had no idea he would spring an immediate date on me. Just when I thought I could guess men’s motives. “Um. No. Thanks.” I stepped backwards. “I have plans.” “Oh.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So you’d rather me cook for you then? Just ask!” All expression fell from my face. Too much. Too far. And he wasn’t kidding. He thought he was being cute. “Um. Sorry. But… my boyfriend prefers to do my cooking.” Single me lied. “Oh. Boyfriend. What does he do?” He crossed his arms. What does he do? Why? Was he going to challenge him to a sword fight if the job wasn’t up to par? “He’s a professional boxer.” All the dance dripped out of him as he conceded the fight. “Really? Truly?” I raised my eyebrows and nodded. Man. Hadn’t used that line since I was teaching on the Indian Reservation and trying to keep the natives at arm’s distance. He took another step back. “Probably shouldn’t make him mad, then.” I nodded a no. He dropped his number onto the floor. “Think I’ll save my fish for another day.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. And nodded my goodbye. You know. Really. Sometimes. I’d rather talk to kids. Wanna try another column? How about #207 Awake Now which is about talking to my ex-boyfriend. or Click here to go to Current Columns to pick another column. Or perhaps you would like to go to Column Finder by Subject to choose your next column about dating, or epilepsy or friends... you choose! Don't miss out! Sign up to receive a free copy of Holly's column via e-mail each week. (All e-mail addresses are private... NEVER, EVER shared.) Or send a blank e-mail to Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Subject: Subscribe Me.
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