At the Costco entrance, I waited while Jerry grabbed one of the massive shopping carts stacked together in rows. The carts often stick together and Jerry has the extraordinary strength to yank them apart like Hercules. That’s why he has the job to get the cart.
Jerry whooshed up beside me with our shopping cart and I flopped my purse and sun hat (necessary item in Arizona) in the cart. As I continued to stroll inside, Jerry stopped with a jerk. Something wrong? Turning toward Jerry, I noticed something odd. The man pushing the cart didn’t look like Jerry. “Oh! I’m sorry,” I said while retrieving my purse and hat from the cart. “You’re not my husband,” I added, laughing at my faux pas. The man, a balding, silver-haired older guy, smiled warmly and said, “No, but I wish I was!”
What? He wishes he was married to me? How sweet is that? And he doesn’t even know about my low-blood sugar moods. Let’s just say if it gets too low, I can’t guarantee the happiness for anyone within my immediate range. read more