Fun at Freddy's

Fred Meyer has suddenly become my very favorite store, and I can hardly wait till the next time I go there. Why, you wonder? Well, on Wednesday, my enjoyable encounter with an elderly gentleman who told me I was skinny enough to eat cookies was enough to make me think fondly of the place.  Then Thursday, my brother Galen invited me to dinner and requested that I bring ice cream to go along with the Razzle Dazzle Berry Pie from Kris’s Kitchen in Lebanon. (Wow! Best pie ever! Worth every point!) 

So after work, I went straight to the ice cream aisle at dear old Freddy’s.  (I didn’t even check the cookie aisle to see if my new friend happened to be there getting more cookies for his grandkids.) Two young men about the age of my sons were in front of the Dreyer’s, and I stopped next to them to wait my turn just as one of them said, “The trouble is, I don’t even know what kind of ice cream LeAnn likes.”

I gasped with delight. “Well,” said I. “You’re in luck. I’m LeAnn, and I like Dreyers Light, preferably something chocolate.” They laughed and thanked me, and I assured them I was looking forward to the surprise party that someone is obviously planning for me, and really, I’d be happy with any kind of ice cream that they bought me.  They quickly excused themselves and got out of the way so that I could get the Dreyer’s Light Vanilla that I needed. Such nice young men.

As I paid for the ice cream, I told the clerk how much I love coming to Fred Meyer these days and enthusiastically shared my recent experiences with her. The gentleman in line behind me was unashamedly eavesdropping and at the conclusion of my tale, he said, “And I bet you aren’t a day over 29, are you?”

“Why thank  you, I don’t believe I am,” said I. “That settles it, I am definitely coming back here tomorrow.”

As I left, I plotted that I should probably make an appearance in the potato chip aisle the next day in hopes of another serendipitous encounter with as yet unknown friends. However, when I told my husband of my latest Fred Meyer adventure, he cautioned me about making a habit of flirting with men at Freddy’s.  Ha, flirting with 80 something and 20 something men. Oh yes. I ignored his nonsense as usual. But then today in response to my story, a co-worker made a laughing remark about me turning into a flirt at Fred Meyer. Oh no. Is it true? I hereby vow to put a stop to daily visits to Fred Meyer before I allow my obsession with desserts to turn me into a pathetic flirtatious fool who hangs out in dessert aisles hoping some guy will either give me permission to eat cookies or offer to buy me ice cream. I must flee from temptation. Stop and think before I open my mouth and say stupid things to strangers.

Just another time my life could easily turn into an illustration of a quote of which I have to occasionally remind myself:

“If you can’t be a good example, you just might be a horrible warning.”