|Cabbage Patch Doll Shoes|
|Hen, Rooster, Chicks|
The setting was at a resort community for active adults, 55 plus, in a gated golf course. As with any site, the place had representatives from all walks of life: women who went under the knife one too many times were hanging out at the jewelry booths hoping to find the special sparkle that would distract from nature's wrinkles; grandparents looking for presents for the grandkids; elderly men escorting their 20-year-old trophy wives in shorts so tight more than facial cheeks were exposed, and then there were the older men who may have been amped up on testosterone or at least a synthetic Version of it. One of the latter hovered around our booth and proceeded to attempt to charm us by showing off his wad of cash and telling us he just inherited millions. He picked up one of my planters to look at the bottom and in the process dumped out some of its contents -- rocks, soil, plant! My tolerance was running low, and maybe he noticed. Luckily, mixed in with all his bravado, he had a conscience. He quickly picked up one of my planters, purchased it and wandered off to talk to the nearest female. I do wonder what has become of my Dainty Oasis:
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