Made in Richmond

Apparently old people love me. Yesterday, while at lunch with my mother, a VERY old man (we’re talkin’ 90) shuffled up to my seat and said, “You lookin’ for a date?” I responded with a disappointed sigh, showed him my left hand, and said, “Sorry, I’m married.” “Man! It’s just not my lucky day,” he groaned, and made his way back to his table. Then today, while in Ben Franklin helping my sister with center pieces, an elderly woman walked into the store, passed the red-aproned sales assistants, and demanded that I tell her where the pussy-willows were. I told her that I didn’t work there, but I would be glad to come find her if I came across what she was looking for. She then launched into an explanation of how if you plant pussy-willows next to tulips, the tulips don’t droop. I assumed that she was looking for *real* pussy-willows to plant next to her *real* tulips, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she would only find fabric flowers in that store. After all, she shared such a valuable tip with me, why burst her bubble?