Another story

Mom always carries granola bars with her. One of the medications she's on gives her food cravings, and she likes granola bars. In fact she's actually gotten such a taste for them that me brother Phil buys them by the crate at warehouse stores. Very often the staff have to get a hi-lo and bring them out to his van on a pallet. But that's another story.

As Mom and I enjoyed our usual Sunday drive yesterday, I pulled into a Dollar General because I wanted to buy this blood orange flavored carbonated water they have, which is sooooo goooood. I'd never even heard of blood orange until I one day bought a bottle of this stuff at another Dollar General on a lark. Apparently there are oranges with a red pulp, hence 'blood' oranges, with a bit of a raspberry taste along with the expected orange dominant flavor. But that's another story.

When I had finished parking, Mom took about three granola bars out of her vest pocket and put them in the console between us. "I don't want to take these into the store," she explained, "Because they might think I stole them and it would set off the alarms and make all that noise."

"And I wouldn't bail you out of jail," I teased.

"I know that," she replied in mock disgust. "That's why I'm leaving them here."

And that's today's story.