Turmoil @ the Tummy Temple?

‘Tis the season, the day before Christmas and it deserves a trip to the Tummy Temple. There is plenty of stock piles but must keep up with my routine. Besides I need the air from staying up too late with Christmas cheer.

Down a couple of cups of dirty water while being preached to by a boy’s choir and with blurry eyes see a report that a good friend died yesterday. Bummer. Death is always bad but it seems more so around this season. He always had good stories and was an encyclopedia of musical knowledge.

Last night all the houses in the neighborhood were dark. The cars that remain have not moved. Attention: House Burglars. Colonial Place is closed for the season.

That means there is little to no traffic on the back streets. The stoplight has changed since they repaved the avenue and still getting used to it. A young lad on a bike with saddlebags rides by looking like a former me. The few folks out walking their dogs all smile and welcoming. Always be good to Santa before Christmas.

I find the traffic at the parking lot as a parade of mobile machines circle the pavement like vultures searching for a space. I expected more panic inside the chapel but it was fairly calm. More people than normal are searching for that last minute morsel to make the gathering complete. Everyone is checking their phones as the request come in from the homestead of new items need while their scouts scan the aisles then have to call back with too many choices of styles and sizes. A man staring at the spices ask his better whether it is cumin or coriander? What is cumin anyway? An excited black woman calls home to say the butcher is out of Santa sausage. I don’t want to know. While the veggies are stacked high the chips are flying out the door along with the wine. Seems like everyone will be having nachos since all the Doritos, Tostitos, and all other corn tortilla chips have vanished. I have to circle several times trying to find my path only to be block by a gentleman standing in front of the peanuts. He touches one of the cans and then steps back. He leans in to look at the price then compares down the row. He puts on his glasses and reverses his examination. He then gets on his phone to describe all the variations of cocktail goobers. Dude! They are just peanuts. Grab a can, throw it in your cart and move on. If they are wrong, the temple will be open until 6. Sorry Petie, it just wasn’t the day to get peanuts.

Reloaded enough for today and tomorrow, I weave my way back through the maze and pull into the empty neighborhood. Have to wait until it gets dark for my secret Santa delivery so I can relax in the peace and quiet, watch some large fellas bump into each other and listen to something other than boy’s choir or chipmunks singing carols.

Maybe I’ll go back before closing to watch the rolling and tumbling and see if that guy ever figured out which peanuts to get?