In season

It's been a while since my last post. We've had a lot going on at the "Jelli" (Jess and Kelli, in case you didn't notice) household as of late. If asked to account for the past week, all I can say is four kids. 'Nuff said, right?! So when I am driving/walking/sitting at parks-in public with my kids, I get some pretty funny experiences and ideas to write about, but never any time to get them down on paper (or screen). Maybe I should go old school and put a notebook in my pocket or something. Anyway, today's story is really too funny to let go with out sharing! Here goes...

We are in south Florida. There are a few things one needs to know to survive in Florida. The biggest, it's hot, always have water and sunscreen with you wherever you go. Always. The other, watch out when it's "in season." What does that mean? No, I am not referring to deer season, or any type of fishing season. I am referring to our massive jump in population that occurs in, oh say mid-November. This is when a bazillion of our closest elderly friends storm the beaches fleeing from the icy north. Why does this involve me you ask? Mainly because it means adding about 5-10 extra minutes to whatever I am doing because of the population increase. We are lucky. We are in a smaller city, so aside from a longer wait at Wal-Mart and a few extra minutes in traffic, we don't notice the invaders. However, I get a crash course in geriatrics 101 every time I go to Costco. They seem to love Costco. Last year it was a lady who was two people behind me in a line that was not moving. She was wearing the soles off of her shoes pacing around, shaking her head and talking about how long this line was taking. When we made eye contact, she says to me, "I'm from New York." That's it. Like that is supposed to explain her inability to wait in line. It's not like she had a screaming child (or 4) that she was trying to keep from entirely melting down. Nope. "I'm from New York." If you ask me, she should be better at waiting line than the rest of us. She should be used to doing everything with millions of her closest friends every where she goes, right?!
Anyway, on to today's funny. I got run over "by a sweet old lady in a motorized cart." Not really, but I did get run over by a very impatient man on a mission to get out of the store. He ran over three of my toes and my two inch flip flop with the wheel of his cart and then looked at me like I was an idiot for putting my toes under there. He shuffled off before I could explain to him that I was trying to legitimately chip my toenail polish (or break my toes trying) so that I could get a pedicure. Seriously. He would've understood if he would have waited for my explanation. Instead, I am sure that he is telling all of his shuffle board friends how this young dumb girl put her foot under his cart (trying to trip it?).