Saturday, February 5, 2011

With Age Comes Wisdom and the Ability to Keep One's Mouth Shut

We are preparing for a busy weekend...another bout of snowy weather, the Celtics versus the Magic and of course that other game of little consequence being played down in Dallas.

With dutiful husband at my side, we set out to get our provisions and enjoy some time together.  First we hit the new cafe in town for an excellent cup of coffee and to my delight and so not on my reduced sugar routine, an almond croissant!  We enjoyed our coffee and each other's company.  Fortified, off we went to my favorite market, Idywilde Farms. 

It was busy, busy, busy at the market, but with canvas bags in hand, I wound my way to my favorite cheese counter to pick up some mozzarella and tallegio cheeses for the pizza I will make for the game...the Celtics game...and peruse the other delights available to us.  I picked up some Stilton with lemon, an aged cheddar and ...insert angels singing and trumpets sounding...St. Marcellin.  I make this awesome appetizer with the lovely little  cow's milk cheese, by removing the top rind and drizzling lavender honey over the cheese and topping it with slivered almonds, popping it into a 375 degree oven until the almonds toast and the cheese starts to bubble ever so slighlty...served with French baguette and something bubbly, ooh la la.  I am a happy woman.

I picked up some bread, shrimp on sugar cane skewers and vegetables; some beautiful tomatoes for the pizza and some gorgeous flowers that reminded me of my apartment in Paris.

Satisified that I had the stuff for a great weekend, Bill and I headed over to checkout.  I placed my prizes on the counter and Bill headed down to the end of the counter to start packing our totes.  The very pleasant cashier ran the items over the scanner and boink...the St. Marcellin cheese wouldn't scan...time for a price check.  Well, my very pleasant shopping excursion was about to be spoiled by Smarm.  Waiting next to me in line was a smarmy couple, a little younger than me, but certainly old enough to know better.  As the nice lady behind the cash register asked for help in getting a price on the cheese, the man next to me whom I will call Poop for Brains, in his best stage whisper said, "Great, now we have to wait for a price check on cheese that smells like (wait for it)...ass."  Upon this overly loud utterance, I stood up a bit straighter and took in a deep Yoga breath...where upon the woman with Poop for Brains whom I affectionately named Witchy-poo, chimed in with..."Yeah, it leaves a nasty butt taste in the back of your throat." 

Now dear friend, I am known for my Irish temper and I do NOT suffer fools at all...but something in my heart told me not to utter any of the myriad of retorts bouncing about in my brain,  including but not limited to:  "So do you taste ass often?"  And,"It is better to eat cheese that smells like ass rather than stand in line next to an ass that is cheesy", or, " Sorry, your cone of silence seems to be out of order...I heard that, you moron." And, of course,  the obvious..."Ass#*!@".  Instead, I squared my shoulders and slowly turned my head to look at Poop for Brains and Witchy-Poo.  As my head turned, one eyebrow arched, quite high and severely...if and when my children read this, they will shudder in horror at the thought...and I looked at them.  I said nothing...I let my eyebrow do all my talking.  They immediately shut up and moved to another line.  The cashier who witnessed the scene smiled at me and complimented my choice of flowers..."Yes, the freesia smell lovely"...and my brain said...just enough to cover the stinky cheese smells...

Go Packers!

1 comment:

  1. I hope you're working on a novel, or, at the very least, a collection of your delightful and whimsical writings! Love it!