My Own Personal Bar Code

           I’ve told you how hilarious it is to shop with our daughter, Nicole. She can instantly make up funny titles for every top or pair of pants I pull from the rack.  That looks like Pocahontas meets the Cosby Show. That’s an I-Give-Up top. Why not just say, “I’m a felt board?” Is that a tablecloth or a skirt? That looks like the costume for a little rain cloud in the school play.

          And then, of course, I can’t think of anything else when I look at it, so I put it back.

          But now I know where she got it. It’s a genetic inheritance from St. Bob. He recently asked me if I knew how valuable I am.  What a sweet thing for a hubby to say, right?  I smiled.

          Then he said, “That’s the biggest bar code I’ve ever seen. You could buy an aircraft carrier with that.”

          I looked down at my pants. Here they are—I’m sitting with my legs crossed. He’s right—they DO look like a giant bar code!

          And now my eyes are also crossed, my arms are crossed, and I am personally cross. Now I can never wear these pants again without worrying that someone will chase me down with a hand-held bar code reader!

          At least he didn’t say I look like an aircraft carrier.

          Some of my humor novels have a character who bears a striking resemblance to St. Bob.  Check ‘em out here.