I like books.


I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.

Monday, March 27, 2006

So, I take Baby down the mountain to meet Drug Addicted Daughter. I stop at Wal-Mart to buy him diapers, wipes, his special soap, and his special shampoo. Afterwards, The Good Son, Baby, and I were standing by my car, and friends from my past came by, and we were talking to them; she has Alzheimer’s and was confused and kept asking who and what. I felt so sorry for her husband. They are only in their mid fifties. Anyway, my daughter is late, playing games as usual and a man pulls up and asks in a joking trying-to-be cute way if he can take my grandson fishing, he went something like this:
Stupid Man, “Hey little feller. You wanna go fishing?”
Baby, hides behind me and says nothing.
Stupid Man, “Hey. I need some bait. Wanna come and be my bait?”
The Good Son looks at him and half laughs.
Stupid Man, “Hey, do you think your granny would wanner come fishing with me?”
By now, I’m annoyed. I say to my grandson, “Tell the old man to get.”
Stupid Man, "You and your granny can come fishing with me."
Finally after the Good Son gives Stupid Man the harsh look. The one that shows he is annoyed and since he is so tall and so huge, the man, well he leaves.
The Good Son, “Mom, I think he was hitting on you.”
Me, “Shut up.”
The Good Son, “Mom he wanted you. Really really bad.”
Me, “Okay, I’m tired of this conversation."
The Good Son, "But Mom, I think he really wanted you. I saw him looking at your, well, your butt."
Me, "Again, shut up."
The Good Son, "Mom."
Me, "He had no teeth, brown stains on his chin, and I don’t know what that was growing out of his nose and ears.”
The Good Son, “So you’re saying, you ain’t got the hots for him?”
Me, “Enough.”
We wait another 30 minutes and she gets there. I kiss the baby bye and ask her about next weekend, she doesn’t answer. Before I close the door, the baby sings the last little bit of Old McDonald Had A Farm. Baby says, eieioooooo.
I didn’t cry.


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