Satisfaction

I am not quite unlike a four year old whenever I go shopping. Unless I'm in a hurry. Then it's to be said I am more like that nasty old lady whole will beat you with her purse within an inch of your life because you decided it would be a good idea to take up the whole aisle with your friend and your shopping cart. But mostly, I am four because I pick. up. everything.

Prince and I went for a walk today. We walked over to Hastings and to the grocery store in search of dinner and a movie. And I must say, sometimes he can be a total downer. We walked passed the market where enormous cardboard boxes full of watermelons sat outside. Prince remarked about his lack of interest in said fruit and I reached out and touched them yelling "He didn't mean it!"

It is almost summer you know, and watermelons are the staple melon of summer. So juicy and delicious, I could just live off of watermelon during the summer.

And then we had to walk passed Michael's, and let it just be said that I could live at Michael's. I even applied for a job there. But of course, there was loads of summery supplies sitting in bins outside. Flip flops and plastic buckets and shovels. I started picking up this item and that item, saying how for all the world I'd love to go to the beach. That really is the best part about summer, the beach.

I felt Prince's fingers firmly grasp my arm and I was forced to relinquish the plastic bucket back into the bin, while again hearing about how I just had to be four years old. He dragged me passed Joann's Fabric and then RiteAid. RiteAid boasted huge displays of spring time blossoms. Pinks and whites and yellows all flooded my vision, and the smells! Oh the flowers smelled so delicious! I stooped down the pushed my nose into the blooming bouquets so I could relish in the deeply fragrant flowers, and I wished for the hundredth time that someone would find it in his heart to buy me one.

In my heart of hearts I knew I would probably viciously murder any plant that found it's way into my house, though. My mother is a plant killer and I feel as though I probably would be no better. Mostly it's just a forgetfulness of the need plants have for water. I mean, who drinks water anymore? Anyway, Prince chuckled at my request to buy one, and we moved on plantlessly.

The sun was shining and I was really beginning to regret my decision to wear a sweatshirt as we walked passed stores and restaurant fronts talking about this, that and the other thing. We finally got to Hastings, and there was a large plastic cup rack just outside the entrance. You know the kind, all colorful and kid like with different names in giant bubble letters loudly and vibrantly declaring that the mug exists for a person named so particularly?

I walked right up to the rack and my favorite of all favorite boy names, Gabriel was right up front and center. I really want to name my future son Gabriel, after the messenger angel. My mom always scoffs and tells me I'll have to marry a Latino guy if I want to name my son Gabriel. To that I say loudly and defiantly "Whatever Mom. He's gonna be my kid, not yours." Funnily enough I have no girls names picked out. When Prince and I were serious, he liked the name Jora for a girl, but good luck finding that on a mug or a keychain. I still think it's a really pretty name though.

I picked through all the mugs, looking them up and down. Prince had to pry me away from them, complaining yet again that I was such a preschooler. I just had to touch everything. And oh but I do! I pick everything up, look it over and put it back down again in order to move on to the next thing. It's part of my nature. I'm very much a "look at everything from all sides" kind of girl and not really a "take everything at face value" kind of person.

If my mother taught me one thing, it's that you always ask questions. I never just do something because someone somewhere said it's what needed to be done. I always ask why. I have to find out the reason it's done this way. Why don't we do it another? What about thinking about it from this angle? What do you mean, you didn't ask how come? I remember getting constantly frustrated with Prince after he would tell me about something his mom told him and I would ask why this and why that and he had no answers.

I can't imagine just taking things as they come and not questioning them. You learn by asking questions and making mistakes. So why on Earth would you just sit there and let life hand you things without ever asking why you were being given this or that? It makes no sense. It's like walking into a shop and buying something without knowing what you're getting. Why would you do that?

So I touch things and move stuff. I pick up things and examine them. I ask why. I ask why not. Consequently, I also have a pretty good immune system. Probably because I'm not really afraid of getting my hands dirty. When Prince first moved away to college he was sick all the time. I'm convinced it's because his crazy mother keeps her house completely sterile and void of any sort of dirt or uncleanliness whatsoever.

It's not bad to have a clean house, and I also don't think it's bad to pick everything up in a store. Curiosity may have killed the cat you know, but what they don't ever tell you is that satisfaction brought it back.