Posts Tagged ‘milkman’

About four years ago, in California, my Annie conveniently found a lost dog at a local park. We ended up taking it home with us. She wanted one in the worst way. After having this jumping, spastic, barking Jack Russell Terrier for about six hours I secretly vowed never to get a dog. While vacuuming tons of hair the little rascal shed all over my black leather car seats I secretly repeated that vow.

Anyway, that day I was trying to figure out a way to find out where the dog’s house might have been. I think there were tags on the pup but when we called the telephone number there was no answer.

I saw a mail truck in the distance and thought,”Now that is a person who would know everything.” Couldn’t catch up to him.

My parents have had the same mailman for years. Charlie knows everything. Who died, moved or got divorced. How many pets, kids and vehicles.

So no one would know the homes or streets better than them. In the old days it would have been the milkman. How many phrases originated from that occupation?

“She’s been around the block more times than the milkman.” Or if a child doesn’t look like the father who got blamed? “It’s the milkman.”

Sometimes we just have to look at the obvious. Usually right under our noses.

I was reminded of this today when talking with a group of ladies about getting lost. About how I don’t use GPS here in Kuala Lumpur and find myself lost time and time again.

One time, I drove by the same prostitute three times prompting Annie, “Mom, is that a stripper?”

Well, in a way.

Anyway, I relayed the story to the group and one of the women from Louisiana shared a story of her own.

Her mom (with the kids in the car) got lost. She saw a prostitute and was stopping to ask her for directions.

The kids were like, “Mom! But she’s a prostitute!”

While it could have been a lesson in humanity sometimes it’s not the right moment. She turned around toward the backseat and told them, “And no one knows these streets better!”

Truth.

Sometimes the obvious is right under our nose.  Just have to look for it and use a little common sense.

Oh, one more thing. Two years later we became owners of a jumping, spastic, barking little Jack Russell Terrier mix that sheds all over the car seats.

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