So my plan
to celebrate Mardi Gras involved the purchase of a King Cake from Fresh
Market. As I was checking out, the store
manager presented me with a strand of purple Mardi Gras beads. I proudly wore them the rest of the day
because they actually complimented what I was wearing. And then in the blink of an eye, I
experienced one of those moments that confirms I’m living in the right
place. I went to pick up an invoice from
a neighbor and while standing in his driveway was introduced to an interesting man
whom I shall call Bud in order to protect his identity. Tall, wiry, sixtyish, Bud is handsome in that
grizzled, all-the-grass-I’ve-ever-consumed-finally-caught-up-to-me kind of
way. And Bud is hairy; it’s growing out
of the neckline of his t-shirt while he is standing there. “This is Bud,” my neighbor said. “Hey, Bud,” I answered and we shook
hands. “I like those beads,” Bud said,
eyeing my shiny bright purple strand. “Thank
you. They’re Mardi Gras beads, today is
Mar ---” but before I could finish the sentence, Bud grabbed the hem of his
Jimmy Buffet t-shirt and yanked it up, covering his face. Good thing too since I experienced a full
body convolution followed by an unconcealed look of horror which might have
been perceived as rude.
As the
wall-o-fur, burned itself onto my retina, I managed to compose myself and said
in a calm but no-nonsense voice, “For the love of all that is holy pull your
shirt down.” He did. I continued, “Despite cleavage that might
titillate the lonely and bored “Fifty Shades of Gray” crowd, I remain
unimpressed. You need to find another
way to get Mardi Gras beads. May I
suggest Fresh Market where you can also sample coffee and a variety of cheeses.” Bud beamed, “Well it was nice to meet you,”
he said. And as he walked to his home
across the street he waved over his shoulder and wished me a happy Mardi Gras. I probably should have called the manager at
Fresh Market and given her a head’s up in case Bud showed up later.
