Friday, August 11, 2006
Sometimes I wish I'd just hold my tongue.
It shouldn't be that hard. Just bite it, nod politely, and go on with life. But my agreement to write this blog for Bailey has awakened old habits, and the floodgates have opened.
Take for example this past Monday.
Angie, being in a shopping mood, decided to drag me into every shop in Kanner Lake and the surrounding area. Hardware, grocery, gift--the shop type didn't matter. Goodness. I didn't know we had so many. I was ready to relieve my feet at Java Joint two blocks into Angie's crusade.
But no. If the shop was there, we went into it. She bought at most of them too. Only heaven knows what she'll do with it all.
Anyway, it wasn't long before we reached Marge's Flowers--a brand new shop in town. Angie decided on a whim--as usual--to buy some flowers for her husband's grave. Soon she was in a dither over Marge's broad selection--which is excellent for a town the size of Kanner Lake, by the way. So Angie asked for a recommendation.
Do you know what Marge offered her? A mix of red and white roses. Can you believe that? Only dark crimson roses would do for a grave!
I know Marge has a good heart and well-meaning intentions. But how you can run a flower shop and not know floriography--the language of flowers--is beyond me. So since I once studied flowers myself in my younger years, I could not help but volunteer to come in a couple afternoons a week to teach her what I know and give her a chance to study color combinations and do flower arrangements while I tend the shop. I guess it's the teacher in me.
Thus far it hasn't been too bad. Marge is eager and diligent, everything a teacher dreams for in a student. It's also been an interesting challenge to work in an area so unrelated to English.
Consider the last day I worked when a young man and his daughter came into the store. The daughter couldn't have been much more than four and had the most angelic gold curls, just like my own granddaughter, Abigail.
Since Marge was in the back studying, I stepped offered my services, asking what the occasion was. The father refused to reply and stalked to a back corner to study the prearranged flower bouquets. The nerve of him!
But the girl tugged on my sleeve and whispered that "mommy and daddy" had a fight. Of course, I knew just the thing and put my skills to use.
An hour later, the girl entered the store again, without either parent and asked if I'd seen them. I hadn't, but I was plenty outraged, I'll tell you. It's scandalous how parents neglect children these days.
So since I was ready to leave for the day, I told the child to wait for me and I would help her look. After retrieving my purse from the back and bidding Marge goodbye, I returned to the storefront. The girl was gone.
With the recent morbid events . . . well, I just didn't like it. Funny how differently I look at things these days because of all that has happened.
I do hope the flowers worked for that little girl's parents. It was a lovely arrangement.
Bev's a great friend, and if she ever gets too uppity about something, I just start to giggle. That gets her every time.
Links to this post:
Bailey Truitt ~ Java Joint owner
Leslie Brymes ~ reporter extraordinaire
Carla Radling ~ realtor at your service
Wilbur Hucks ~ ya gotta love him
Jake Tremaine ~ retired logger
Ted Dawson (S-Man) ~ sci-fi writer
Hank Detcher ~ pastor and friend
Janet Detcher ~ keeps Hank in line
Bev Trexel ~ retired teacher
Angie Brendt ~ Bev's best pal
Sarah Wray ~ Simple Pleasures owner
Jared Moore ~ Kanner Lake Times
LEARN MORE ABOUT KANNER LAKE
A Christian Worldview of Fiction
Mary Ann Diorio
Girl's Write Out
Joy in the Litter Box
A Life in Pages
Pieces of Me
Readin N Writin with Patricia
Robin Lee Hatcher's Write Thinking
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