A TMG fan shared this heartwarming tale about the season of giving:
So I'm shopping for an ornament for the piano teacher, right? Of course I do this during the lesson. Driving down Route 53 I spy a charming Ye Olde Colonial Shoppe that yet endures among the strip malls, and am lured in by an inviting window display of twinkling lights and decorated trees.
Inside I walk through many cozy rooms with low ceilings and uneven, antique floor boards. Delights for the senses abound: music box carols, blown-glass, glittering hand-made ornaments, themed trees, clove potpourri, a scruffy and friendly Ye Olde Shoppe Dog. I get to the checkout, pleased with my finding, with minutes to spare.Suddenly the scene, the mood, the senses upend. Earth Mother Proprietor Lady is in a strange altercation with a fierce Island Woman in a leopard print turban. F*bombs flying both ways, fingers pointing, exotic curses crackling in the air. I'm clutching my little gold piano ornament. I should leave, but I refuse to have a giftless piano teacher. More F*bombs. The clock is ticking. Turban lady storms out leaving a wake of threats. Please Hurry Earth Mother Proprietor Lady. My child is waiting. The piano teacher is thinking I'm a bad mother. Alas, now I must listen to the story of Earth Mother Proprietor Lady's unfulfilled life--she doesn't need this crap, she's a trained artist, she could be teaching sculpting classes at the university, people come in and treat her like this all the time. The rant is littered with more F*bombs (she's quoting the rude things her customers say to her now), shards of pottery and tales of entire stolen trees. She holds my change hostage as I plead that I must leave. Yes, yes, I sympathize, but the time!
I am 15 minutes late for pick up, the ornament is delivered at last, and now poor teacher must endure my tale. I think she would have rather done without the ornament and had me pick up my kid on time.F*bomb ripples in the holiday pond. F*-la-la-la-la.
by Martha Hicks Leta
