The Interesting People of Milford, CT

Well, Obama did it. And thanks to a loyal reader, who never recognized the source of his information, I now am crystal clear on the process. God Bless America. (Or as my mother likes to say, "I just hope he's not the Anti-Christ." A well-liked black man must be the devil in disguise.)
I'll have to ask her why she hasn't considered Oprah to be the Anti-Christ. This will make for a fun conversation.

We've been having alot of QT lately, my mother and I. A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of taking her to the eye doctor. Her appointment was early but still the waiting room was packed. We ended up waiting there for quite sometime but I didn't mind. It gave me the opportunity to really get to know those in my new community. There was the older couple next to me who came shuffling in, she on a walker and he either trying to hold her up or using her to hold himself up. They sat next to me and I think thought they were whispering, the way they leaned into one another when they spoke, but I'm pretty sure I could've heard them had I walked across the room and stepped outside. They were mostly talking about how many people were in the waiting room and how long they would have to wait and the weather. Your standard elderly chatter...until the old lady pointed to the TV and said "what's she doing?" It was Hillary Clinton on CNN giving a speech. Her husband explained that she was running for President. "They should just shoot her," was the feeble, old lady's response. Her husband chuckled and said that there were lots of people who would agree but "look at all those bodyguards. No one who wants to shoot her could ever get close enough. She has people around her 24 hours a day. You're not going to get your wish." The women seemed to consider all this very seriously before dismissing the whole TV with a wave of her hand and an over-exaggerated, disgusted look.

I kept busy by eavesdropping on that conversation and another between two relatively younger women (considering the median age was probably 65). The one woman who did all the talking works in the Milford Public School system - presumably as a teacher. She kept using lots of "buzz" words like, "well, he really was having trouble with impulse control." She was telling some story either about a student or who own child (I think it was about her own child) who "took years to get a diagnosis. But we went to a slew of different doctors before we found some researchers at Yale who diagnosed him with bipolar." But having done her research on medicated children, do you know what has worked wonders? Fish oil. "Do you take it? You really should." She then went on a 5 minute diatribe about the hidden wonders of Fish oil and how best to take it. She likes the pills. She can mix it in with Johnny's yogurt and he doesn't even know he's taking it. I think you can do that with Ritalin too but I wasn't about become part of her one-sided conversation. Besides, I think she already was on to my eavesdropping. I couldn't help it. My back was facing her and after she somehow segued from fish oil and bipolar disorder ("It's not a disease.") to her skin cancer to sexual harassment, I was dying to see what she looked liked. She was your average, middle-aged suburban women, with a short blondish-white bob. I didn't get a great look because then I would've been the sloppy looking eavesdropping starer.

But she went on to tell a story about how she was on a committee that was hiring presumably another teacher and someone who was one of the leaders of the committee made some inappropriate joke. She lowered her tone for this conversation but managed to say something to the effect of, "any behavior which makes you feel uncomfortable because of your gender is so clearly harassment that it was just insulting to me that no one said anything." She went on to say that even though the comment or joke was not about her, she felt violated. But apparently she didn't want to make waves with the man who made the comment but she is just sick over what to do. "Well, you know, I am very shy." It was about this point that I was called to retrieve my mother but I'm sure had a sat long enough she could've told me the most recent Oprah book to read or how to cook artichokes.

After reviving myself at the Stop & Shop gas station the other day, I headed to the Stop & Shop to get some things for me and my three house-mates. Feeling quite pleased with myself for having remembered my eco-friendly reusable bags, I also took some small comfort from know that those bags would save me 5 cents inside. And just like they say, "don't go to the grocery store on an empty stomach," I would also advise people to stop at the gas station first too. You're likely to be a bit more frugal. (Imagine the elation when they told me I got 5 cents back for each of my three reusable bags.) So with a keen eye for the sale items, I surpassed the expensive asparagus, which I know to make and found myself in front of the artichokes. They were on sale. I like artichokes, I thought to myself. I think George likes them and my parents don't really like all that fresh, healthy food anyway (they prefer meals that are made from a box, a can or come in take out containers). So, I decided I would buy them. How hard can it be to cook an artichoke?
What I didn't realize until I came home and looked on the internet is that what I really wanted was baby artichoke hearts. What I have are two very large flower things that even after they are cooked, apparently have a tough skin you don't eat. I think you have to suck the good part out of each of the petals. I should've just bought the more expensive asparagus. So much for being frugal. In retrospect, having never bought an artichoke, I don't even know if the sale price was that much of a bargain but maybe my parents are on to something: stick to foods that come in boxes, cans and jars. Of course, they will also tell you a well stocked cupboard should have no less than 6 jars of mayonnaise, 8 rolls of paper towels, cream cheese frosting and enough packets of random marinades to last through the next millennium.