I'm Here to Help
July 24, 2000
6:37 a.m.
"What are you doing?" I asked Lisa. "I'm looking for the infant department." "Well," I said, looking around the store. We were in Target, doing some shopping while Brigid was at a birthday party for one of her school friends. "There's a place with a bunch of pictures of babies." Lisa got an oh, yeah expression on her face. "That would be it." I walked along feeling pretty good. I'm not the observant one in our family--at least not when it comes to things like shopping stuff--and it was fun to be the one who found the right place ... kind of like when you're doing a crossword puzzle with someone else who's a lot better than you, say, someone like a professional copy editor. [grin]. Lisa likes to say that she's a noticer, and that I'm not. I noticed that a long time ago. So we ran off to the infant section, looking for a present for a baby shower. A few minutes later, Lisa's got an armload of stuff. I glanced over and see something that I think is kinda cool. We could get one of those -----. I pointed to it. (Note: I'm not specifying the item in the very rare case of someone who shouldn't getting the scoop before the shower, okay? No leaks here.) Lisa's eyes lit up. "Hmmm..." she says. She looked some stuff over, hemmed and hawed, and a few minutes later, she's put all the stuff away that she had originally picked out, and she handed me the item I had pointed out. Lisa comes from a good Catholic family, though, meaning that we still had shopping to do for a wedding, as well as a baby shower ... er ... I suppose that sentence could be misconstrued. Misinterpreted. Taken out of context, as it were. There's a scad of kids in Lisa's side of the family, see. The wedding, and the baby shower are for different couples, all right? Soon we found ourselves in a different section of the store. Lisa picked through stuff--kitchen stuff, mostly. This is where I noticed something. What I noticed is that men and women shop differently. Personally, I would have had stuff picked out and been at the counter before Lisa had even finished scanning the options. Not that I'm particularly right here. Not that I'm particularly correct. She picked stuff up and held onto them for several minutes, looking at more stuff, then putting the original stuff back. It's like she takes this time to get attuned to each utensil, that by holding onto these things she might be able to affect the future, or maybe just read it. It's like the future might well be stored inside the molecular structure of each kitchen item, and she's letting it melt into her, trying to analyze it and pick the specific measuring cup that will guarantee a long successful pairing. I'm sure I'm missing something. (No, she didn't actually get a measuring cup, so I'm still safe ... no leaks, remember). Eventually, I picked up something that's important to me. It was a kitchen utensil. A very important kitchen utensil. "I feel strongly about this," I said, holding it up. And I actually did. It was probably the most important kitchen utensil in the world--vital in any kitchen I'm going to be a part of. Now, you see, I'm in a quandary. It's really not fair to you (the reader) for me to withhold this information. But, I don't want to provide leaks. So, here. Let's try this. If you want to know what I'm talking about, click here. If you're someone associated with Becky, I trust you not to click. Okay. It's a mini-leak. Anyway. Lisa looked at me and smiled. It was a patient smile, I've got to give her that. "We must have this," I say. "It's important." "If you say so, I'm sure it is." So we walked out with the magical item, and a handful of other stuff. Well, actually, we paid for it all ... geeze, you guys are a tough audience. My role was been played, and I've even managed to contribute. Heck, Lisa didn't even promise to leave me at home next time.   Yeah, it's been awhile. Very, very busy lately. The latest story is nearly through first draft, though ... which is good. Probably Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday. Have a great day.  I'm Here to Help Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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