My father-in-law will be 96 years old in the fall. He's lived a good, full life and is still full of life with a lot more living to do. He's been married for 71 years to the same lovely bride and they enjoy living in their long time family home surrounded by grand children and great grand children. Life is good. The twinkle in his eyes is a give away to the rascal that dwells within; he's a naughty boy with a prank or two up his sleeves. The other thing he has is a very good appetite. He enjoys food and loves to eat. It seems, however, that his appetite is not filled with the regular 3 squares and he is always on the look out for a snack. Sweets are great. So is fresh cold cuts right out of the fridge. But his favourite go-to snack is a cheese slice or two. The only trouble is, he peels the cheese and enjoys the tasty square. Then he deposits the wrapper in his pants pocket or sweater pocket. Only to be discovered on laundry day - and you can be sure that he's not the lord of laundry. The cache of empty wrappers is a source of many conversations and many chuckles as we visualize Grampa by the fridge rummaging for cheese slices. I thought it was particularly funny because my husband inherited his dad's knack for singles slices. Today while I was hanging the laundry out on the line, a small square of plastic fluttered out of the pocket of his shorts. I chased the piece as it blew gently in the breeze and to my surprise (not really) and total amusement, I see that it's a cheese wrapper. Nicely tucked into the pockets of a pair of shorts and tossed in the wash for a good rinse. Like father, like son.
In this next story I have to be a bit vague to protect the guilty.
I was chatting with a chef instructor the other day and we were reviewing the menu for an upcoming kids cooking camp. I suggested that he could use produce and get a delivery from the supplier. But he waved off that suggestion in favour of a personal shopping trip. While my husband detests any kind of shopping and most of all for groceries, this chef seemed almost euphoric at the thought. So I agreed that he should personally see to the shopping for the campers needs and he was delighted. Weird? I must have had a look on my face that said so without words and he continued to tell me that he LOVES the grocery store. In fact, he exclaims, it's one of his most favourite things to do ever! So much so that he volunteers to go shopping for his family. Several times per week. His wife will say "honey, where are you going?" and he tells her shopping for groceries. One day, on just such an excursion, he heads out to the local grocery store only to feel that he is being followed - that ESPish feeling where you think you're being watched. He looks around. Nothing. He continues to browse the aisles and the neck hairs bristle. There is someone there! He spins around quickly and spots a head just as it disappears around the corner of the aisle. Honey? Is that you? and around peeks his wife. Sheepish. She thought he was having an affair. And never for one minute thought it might be with Aisle 3. For the love of fresh produce.
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