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Friday Night and Stylin' at Staples
Apr. 27th, 2014 12:19 amIt's Friday night and I'm in the Staples store out on Bridge Street in Dewitt. My grandson Jason is with me because he's just turned eleven and no one else is at home and we have to pick up Gatorade for the daylong soccer tournament he's playing in tomorrow.
The Gatorade is actually at BJs Wholesale but BJs is next to Staples and I've just remembered that I'm supposed to find a stylus for my wife's Samsung Galaxy tablet and we're already out here and so, presented with a classic two-birds-one-stone scenario, it feels, at this moment, like everything is working out for a change, like we're right where we're supposed to be.
Which is how Fate sometimes entices us to lay before it the whole of our present lives, not to mention all prospects of future happiness. And why we're so often blissfully adrift, in a moment of introspective calm, right before reality slaps us upside the head and asks us to consider what the hell we were thinking.
Anyway, we're now browsing an aisle near the front of the store when this tall, rather attractive brunette in casual business attire walks in and heads down our aisle. I glance away and then realize it's the mother of one of Jason's classmates, who also coached youth soccer back when he was a rec-league player.
So I say hello and she responds with a smile and hello and then I say, "So, how is spring break going?"
"Oh," she says, "it's fine but I've been overrun with kids all week. You know, it's been my kids and the neighbor's kids and kids from school and I have to work and sometimes it's just hard to know what to do with all of them," she says.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I say. Nodding at Jason, I continue, "He's been at the Syracuse University soccer camp all week. It's all day for five days and the kids are coached by the varsity staff and some of the players and it's really great! He's really enjoyed it," I say, nodding at him again.
"Oh," she says, "soccer camp. We've sent the kids to technology camp and there's a church camp that they've gone to but I never thought about soccer camp. My son really hasn't played much since last fall, because it was too hard for me to get him there when I was working out of town, but soccer camp might be a good way to get him back into it."
"Well," I say to her, "the university is holding another one over the summer, July 7th through the 11th, and the prices are pretty reasonable."
"Really," she says, "I'm going to go ahead and write that down." She gets a pen and small notepad out of her purse. "Thanks for the info."
"Sure," I say, "no problem. Hope you have a great weekend."
"Thanks," she says, "you too. It's been nice talking to you."
As she leaves, my grandson and I turn down the next aisle in search of grandma's stylus.
"Who was THAT?" he asks.
"What do you mean," I respond, "THAT was Julia's mom. We've seen her at school. And at soccer games a few years ago."
"No it WASN'T," he insists, "that WASN'T Julia's mom and besides Julia doesn't HAVE a brother."
I stop in the aisle in front of a display of touch-screen styluses. I'm pondering brands and prices and which colors might go well with the faux leather cover of my wife's Samsung Galaxy.
I'm also remembering how this was the kid who, unknown to me, had snapped pictures of a female jogger on my cell phone, one morning several years ago, as we drove through the university section to pick up my wife at work.
And what a tough one THAT was to explain to my wife when she found them...
LPK
LiveJournal
4.27.2014 (a)
The Gatorade is actually at BJs Wholesale but BJs is next to Staples and I've just remembered that I'm supposed to find a stylus for my wife's Samsung Galaxy tablet and we're already out here and so, presented with a classic two-birds-one-stone scenario, it feels, at this moment, like everything is working out for a change, like we're right where we're supposed to be.
Which is how Fate sometimes entices us to lay before it the whole of our present lives, not to mention all prospects of future happiness. And why we're so often blissfully adrift, in a moment of introspective calm, right before reality slaps us upside the head and asks us to consider what the hell we were thinking.
Anyway, we're now browsing an aisle near the front of the store when this tall, rather attractive brunette in casual business attire walks in and heads down our aisle. I glance away and then realize it's the mother of one of Jason's classmates, who also coached youth soccer back when he was a rec-league player.
So I say hello and she responds with a smile and hello and then I say, "So, how is spring break going?"
"Oh," she says, "it's fine but I've been overrun with kids all week. You know, it's been my kids and the neighbor's kids and kids from school and I have to work and sometimes it's just hard to know what to do with all of them," she says.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I say. Nodding at Jason, I continue, "He's been at the Syracuse University soccer camp all week. It's all day for five days and the kids are coached by the varsity staff and some of the players and it's really great! He's really enjoyed it," I say, nodding at him again.
"Oh," she says, "soccer camp. We've sent the kids to technology camp and there's a church camp that they've gone to but I never thought about soccer camp. My son really hasn't played much since last fall, because it was too hard for me to get him there when I was working out of town, but soccer camp might be a good way to get him back into it."
"Well," I say to her, "the university is holding another one over the summer, July 7th through the 11th, and the prices are pretty reasonable."
"Really," she says, "I'm going to go ahead and write that down." She gets a pen and small notepad out of her purse. "Thanks for the info."
"Sure," I say, "no problem. Hope you have a great weekend."
"Thanks," she says, "you too. It's been nice talking to you."
As she leaves, my grandson and I turn down the next aisle in search of grandma's stylus.
"Who was THAT?" he asks.
"What do you mean," I respond, "THAT was Julia's mom. We've seen her at school. And at soccer games a few years ago."
"No it WASN'T," he insists, "that WASN'T Julia's mom and besides Julia doesn't HAVE a brother."
I stop in the aisle in front of a display of touch-screen styluses. I'm pondering brands and prices and which colors might go well with the faux leather cover of my wife's Samsung Galaxy.
I'm also remembering how this was the kid who, unknown to me, had snapped pictures of a female jogger on my cell phone, one morning several years ago, as we drove through the university section to pick up my wife at work.
And what a tough one THAT was to explain to my wife when she found them...
LPK
LiveJournal
4.27.2014 (a)
