Nice To Meet You, Cuz

I'm usually amused when I venture out grocery shopping. There's always an entertaining child to chuckle at, screaming parents to gawk at, or interesting products to buy (do I have "sucker" written on my forehead or something?).

Tonight my shopping adventure was defined by two completely unrelated experiences. One was the irrepressible wedgie that I kept having to coax out of my crack when no one was looking-- at least, I hope no one was looking. On second thought, maybe that's why that creepy dude kept showing up in the same aisles as me.... Maybe he gets his thrills by watching women wrestle with their underwear. Well, I'll tell you, he got quite the show because my undies sure put up a heckuva fight tonight-- I was ready to take scissors to them when I got home! But let me move on, as most likely I've already wandered into "TMI" territory. (Sorry, Mom!)

I'm still mulling over the second scenario as I type this. I confess, it baffled me. Let me lay it out for you and maybe you can help shed some light on the subject. You see, when I got to the checkout line I noticed the checker staring at me. (And not in a flattering way.) When I approached the stand she said, "you look familiar!" and I got ready to go through the litany of options: Did we go to school together? Do we attend the same church, perchance? Are our children on the same sports team? And so on. But she beat me to the punch. "Is your name Jessica?" Phew, that was an easy one to answer! "Nope," I said, thinking the discussion was over now that we got that settled. But she wasn't through.... "Really? You look like an old relative of mine." Yes, really, my grocery checking friend! But hold on a minute-- what did she mean by "old"? I wasn't quite sure how to respond to these odd inquiries. She continued to probe me, however, trying to make certain that I was indeed just a stranger coming through her line, and not some secret relative withholding my true identity from her. She wanted to know if I had a bunch of kids-- because her relative did. "Well, I just have two kids," I tried to explain. And I don't believe two qualifies as a "bunch" of kids unless you're in cuckoo-land.

I'm not sure if I ever convinced her completely. She kept shaking her head as if to say, "I just don't believe it-- you must be Jessica, my dear sweet cousin!" But unless I have any aunts or a grandma who have a little confession they'd like to make, I think I can safely say that this lady did not come from my gene pool (thank heavens for small mercies!).

She did leave me with a really fabulous idea, though. Next time someone says, "do I know you?" I think it would be a super fun game to say, "yeah, we're cousins!" or, "oh, Granny, I've missed you so much!", or "Daddy!"-- or something like that. Who knows, maybe I could even find a new BFF that way-- it's quite the icebreaker. After all, who doesn't want to be bosom buddies with a crazy?

I did not waste any more time than necessary as I gathered up my things to leave. I didn't want to get invited to the next family reunion or anything. Next thing I'd know old Aunt Mathilda would be trying to plant a big wet one on my cheek and Cousin Bob would be asking for a small "loan". No thank you!

As I made my hasty retreat I could feel the gal's eyes hot on my trail. I figured, what the heck, why not give her something else to remember me by? I reached behind me indelicately and pulled my ridiculous wedgie free while giving my booty a little wiggle of adjustment. Good riddance to both! (And I mean that in the nicest way possible.)