I never thought I would be able to say the sentence, “A little old lady stole my jam.” Well, now I can.
So on Saturday, I went to a Relief Society luncheon in Modesto. On each table were two small bowls of butter and jam for the biscuits. My mom and I were sitting at a table with about 5 or 6 other women, chatting and minding our own business while enjoying our bunny food lunch (seriously, this lunch was 2 kinds of salad and a piece of chicken. why do women always insist on serving just salad at relief society activities? i am not a rabbit! give me real food).
Anyways, out of the corner of my eye I saw a hand reaching in between me and my mom. I assumed this was someone who knew either my mom or me, and I thought she was going to tap one of us on the shoulder and say hi. Nope! Our entire table froze, some with forks hovering in the air mid-bite, as we watched this woman reach in, grasp her hand around the bowl of jam, jerk her arm back, and take off. What?! Everyone at our table just kind of looked at each other with “did that really just happen?” looks on their faces. A little old lady stole our jam. And I wanted that jam, too.
She could have asked to borrow the jam. She could have walked across the hall to the kitchen and gotten more jam. But no. She decided to pull some weird Mission Impossible sneak-and-grab move to steal our jam. One thing would have changed this whole situation from awkward to awesome, and that is if she had snuck up on us and started humming her own theme music, a la Kronk in The Emperor’s New Groove.