“Sandwich Light”

When I was growing up, I would visit my dad at his parent’s house every two weeks like clockwork. My grandma, “Mama Crock”, has always been one of my favorite people. I love her funny sayings, such as “You want horns, but you’ll die butt headed” (this was said when I wanted things I could not have) and “Woooo, this is a sandwich light!” (she said some red lights are so long, you can eat a sandwich at them).

Today, I got a new meaning of the phrase “sandwich light”. I had been to Wal-mart, and stopped on the way out for a happy meal. Nuggets, fries, and a “Hello Kitty” pencil box. Perfect. I was happily eating some of the fries on the way to my next errand. The light was rather long and I thought of Mama Crock’s saying….just as someone in the car next to mine started yelling something and brought me back to reality.

Some kids, ok well 19 or maybe 20 year olds, in a black mustang were trying desperately to get my attention. I am NOT looking good, so I know they are not trying to get my number! This guy seriuosly is trying to get me to give him fry! I roll down my tinted window, and he flashes his dog tags. I say, “Those don’t impress me! I don’t share with my hubby sometimes and he was in the army!” “Please, just one fry,” he begs as his friends crack up in the back seat. “Well, I only got a happy meal, it is kinda hard to share a happy meal,” I say, seeing if he will give up now.

Nope! “Pleeeease! Come on lady, it’s just one fry”. Well, dang. It was just a fry. I let him come get one. We were at the longest sandwich light ever, so why not? His friends were still laughing hysterically as he got back in his car. It was just one fry, but to him, it was one funny story for later, entertainment for his friends, and one sandwich light made a bit shorter for me.

The Noise

Last night, as I was up in the wee hours (as usual), I hear a strange noise outside the sliding glass door that leads to the patio. “Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” it rings out, in a high pitch. “What the heck was that?,” I thought, thinking it could be a cat or a oppossum (having seen one right by the patio in the past). The noise stops, so I thought, “Oh well…whatever it is must be gone”.

“PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!” goes the noise again, louder this time, closer. “Ok,” I think to myself, “What on earth???!” I decide to investigate further. Scared to open the patio door, I turn on the patio light and creep to take a peep out the vertical blinds.

*GASP*!! I jump a mile high as a raccoon scurries away from my patio, up into a tree where his or her lover and/or friend raccoon is patiently waiting. We look at one another, both scared to move. They seem to almost belong in that tree, making me feel like an imposter. Meanwhile, the dogs are going CRAZY and barking at them frantically. For crying out loud, I live off the service road of the tollway in an apartment. This is raccoon territory now?

As they rush off in the night, out of my view, I relax. But each time I hear that noise, I feel the city go away, and the wilderness creep in, if only for a moment.