Old people say the darndest things!

Older, wiser people make me smile. They do.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have seemed to notice old people more. Not sure why, though. I guess it’s because I find myself hanging out in places that older, wiser people tend to frequent.

One thing I have learned this past month is that older, wiser people love Chuck-O-Rama. Boy, do they love it! And really, what’s not to love? Lot’s of food to choose from PLUS sugar-free cookies for the diabetics. Chuck-O-Rama caters to the older crowd, which is fantastic.

The reason I know older, wiser people love Chuck-O-Rama, is that I have been there twice now in the past month with my very own older, wiser, young at heart, parents (once in Ogden and once in Bountiful—both places swarming with older people).

So, number one: Older, wiser people love Chuck-O-Rama. It’s the place where oxygen tanks and wheelchairs are the norm. And young people, get out of their way. Move over and show some respect.

Number two: Older, wiser people love Smith’s Marketplace in Bountiful, early in the day. I haven’t tested out the theory of afternoon and evening older people, but when I went there this morning, it was packed.

Today, while shopping an older, wiser gentleman came wheeling his shopping cart several rows over in the produce section to stop me.

“Ma’am,” he called to me. “Ma’am.”

I stopped and turned to him, unsure if I had done something wrong, or if he needed assistance or what.  So I looked at him, waiting.

“I just had to stop you,” he said. “I noticed your purse matched your shirt, and I must say I feel bad for your husband.”

I gave him an odd look, still unsure where this was going.

“The way I figure, you must be pretty high maintenance to match your clothes and purse to grocery shopping.”

Okay, here’s the funny thing. I own ONE purse. Most of the time it does not match ANYTHING I am wearing. I just like the blue purse. It’s bright and fun. I just so happened to throw on a t-shirt (yes a t-shirt) that was blue and had the Beetles splashed across the front of it. My hair was washed, slightly curled, but not much. I had little makeup on and I wore flip-flops. There was NOTHING high maintenance about my appearance what-so-ever. If anything, I looked pathetic.

All I wanted was groceries. That was all—a nice cartload of groceries.

Instead, I was accosted by an old man while I tried to buy lettuce.

I smiled politely, denied his claims and moved along. Every time I saw him down an aisle, I went a different way. Who knew what else he might say?

Silly. Just plain silly.

I love older, wiser people. They say the darndest things.

And NO, I am not high maintenance. If anything, I should try harder—that old man got me thinking.