Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Back to Wal*Mart. I was in the soda aisle ready to stock up on my life juice when I noticed an Amish lady reaching for the Diet Coke at the very same time. As we locked eyes, she gave me a conspiratorial grin and I thought to myself, “You know what lady? You and I aren’t very different at all.” I returned her smile, grabbed the Diet Coke and went on my way, but I couldn’t get her off of my mind. There were so many unanswered questions.
1. Is she allowed to drink Diet Coke or is this something she hides behind the barn, taking a nip or two when the old man isn’t looking? Is this her guilty pleasure?
2. Why Diet Coke and not regular? Is she figure and/or health conscious? Would I be worried about these things if I was required to wear long sleeves and skirts year round?
3. How did she find out about Diet Coke in the first place?
There’s so much to learn from others. Even though we shared a moment in the beverage section, I didn’t feel close enough to her to ask her these burning questions, so they continue to fester in my mind. I thought we might meet up again in another aisle, but as it turns out, she doesn’t share my penchant for Skittles.
I finished up my little excursion by picking up some things for Biddy’s lunch. Instead of being a sensible parent who considers things like balanced meals, whole grains and the four food groups, I am drawn to gimmicks designed to mitigate the guilt of a working parent who packs a lunch for their child to eat at daycare.
When packing lunch for Biddy, my goals are simple.
1. I want her to enjoy and actually look forward to her lunch.
2. She should have the coolest lunch in her entire class.
3. This lunch should be relatively simple to prepare.
4. She feels love pouring out of each individual package she opens.
With birthday cake flavored pudding, dinosaur chicken nuggets and cheese shaped like Mickey Mouse spilling out of my cart, I made my way to the checkout line. I busied myself texting some peeps and checking Facebook until it was my turn. Ugh, so many of you have the flu. When I swiped my credit card, it occurred to me that I had wasted an hour and a half at Wal*Mart and had absolutely no idea what I was going to make for dinner. As my eyes scanned the contents of the bags and I contemplated how I was going to pass off dinosaur nuggets as a meal, my mind wandered to my new Amish friend and how she might be killing a chicken with her bare hands for dinner. And washing that chicken down with a Diet Coke.