At the entrance to a store.

Running into a woman who works in the natural foods section, though she’s not working according to her non-work attire.

JJ running ahead as usual, weaving through customers congested at the automatic doors.  At this time of day it tends to be of the older (and somewhat more cranky and slower) variety.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning!   Oh, how are nursing issues going?”

Noticing the old men creeping on by.

“Oh, there, uh . . . they’re pretty much the same.”

“Did your milk supply ever go up?  Did the tea and the herbs help?”

A teenager and his construction worker dad try to pass us quickly.

“Oh, it did.  He’s just a lousy nurser.”

“Well, I certainly hope it’s not telling of things to come.”

Little A coos.

“Oh, I think it is.  Yep.  . . . yep . . . yep.”

Walking into the store, face burning, wondering if all my dignity and self-respect went the way of having a stomach that can’t be stretched out like silly putty or the ability to not constantly refer to oneself in the third person.

Daily Drivel