I am pondering a sign I saw in a front yard today. A front yard in a booming metropolis in Hillmomba, one commercial building away from a 7-11, across the street from a library, catty-corner from a post office, at a four-way stop. This sign said:
"We (heart) our children. Please drive carefully."
Hows about y'all HEART your children a little bitty bit more, and KEEP THEM OUT OF THE FREAKIN' ROAD? Hows about that, huh? That house sets about 10 feet from a public sidewalk, which is next to a strip of pavement that can be used as off-road parking. There is a fenced back yard behind the house. Duh. It's a BACK yard.
What's the deal? Have the kids been jaywalking to the library? Playing stickball in the street? Setting up lawn chairs in the parking space and watching traffic like a parade? Did a semi plow into the front porch? Are drivers losing control at .o1 miles per hour at the stop sign? Concussor and his little brothers lived in that house last summer. There was no carnage. All of them still have all their appendages, and nary a concussion in the bunch. A sign like that is just begging people to rev their engines and drive up onto the porch.
In other puzzling matters, a woman and teenager at The Dollar Tree accosted the checker in an effort to find where she had hidden the lubricating jelly. I kid you not.
"Where is the lubricating jelly?"
"Yes, lubricating jelly. My daughter and I have looked all over for it."
"And I don't mean Vaseline. That won't work. My husband has to have lubricating jelly."
I left before they reached a resolution. But I can't help to wonder if it was that kind of lubricating jelly. Or if the woman even knew what she was asking for. Or if the man had some kind of medical condition that requires generic lubricating jelly. Or else, wouldn't that woman have asked for some K-Y? Maybe her husband didn't tell her why he needed it. Maybe he has a thing going on the side. Maybe it's with some kind of animal and that's why he requires lubricating jelly, as in, the animal just isn't that into him.