Despite consistent training given since childhood; administered first by lovingly concerned parents and then taken over by an astutely aware spouse, it looks as though my inevitable demise will lead to my inability to say "no" to snacks. So there I was, after school, wrestling my half-dead plant out the door so Brad could nurse it back to health when, like a gift from God, I spotted a small storage container a quarter-filled with Skittles perched precariously on the push-bar that I was bumping open with my butt. Now, mind you, Skittles are not normally my go-to snack selection but when the Lord places a rainbow of flavors directly in your path, you don't turn your back on it. Remember Noah.
Happily clutching my container of candy, I managed to fold myself and my dead plant into Savannah's cluttered clown car. Definitely a child of Amy Mosiman, Savannah showed equal parts delight about the Skittles ("Red is my favorite.") and obtaining a storage container with a lid that fits.
My sugar-induced euphoria wore off on the ride home as I realized that a crazed maniac with a penchant for forty-four year-old women who haven't consumed fresh fruit in over four months might cast out a little bait to lure me, ET-style, into danger. I considered this possibility as I finished the last of the green Skittles. Was I a target? Of course. After all, I have a lot to offer. A distinctive duck-like walk that drives men insane. The hard-to-find "papple" (pear/apple combo) form that is quite the attention-getter. A crooked smile that resulted from an intentional decision to NOT wear my retainer after years of painful braces bondage. Who wouldn't want that? Obviously I'm a little hurt that my axe murderer didn't care enough to do bit more research on my ideal snacking preferences. A Russell Stover marshmallow bunny could go a long way to luring me into the windowless van. Remind me to tell you how, years ago, before I had developed my distinctive "papple" shape, Brad thwarted a kidnapping attempt at a truck stop by a nice man who complimented my capacity to consume the super-gigundo Slurpee and then invited me out to see his "rig." One must be ever-vigilant.
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