This Is Just To Say, Pick Your Own Dang Grapes

I have been taking grapes in my lunch. They are fantastic red grapes that I found at Save A Lot. So sweet. And so cold.

Because the price of teacher lunch went up $1.05 this year, there is rarely a tray on our table. Michelina Salisbury Steak and Michelina Fettuccine Alfredo are quite popular. As are Kellogg's Special K Protein Drinks.

Everybody knows that I am a veritable Mother Teresa when it comes to performing humanitarian deeds for my fellow faculty. So every day, I offer Arch Nemesis a small bundle of grapes. She loves them. She is so grateful, she throws away my paper plate. Not that I couldn't do it myself, you know. I walk right by the big gray plastic trash can on wheels on the way out of the cafeteria. But it makes her feel good, so I Mother Teresaly allow it.

Today I got up to go to the bathroom before the bell. It's along stretch with my new plan time being second hour. I must hold it from 11:20 until 2:56. Except on Mondays, when I have to hold it until 3:10, or when the last kid is out of the parking lot. Arch grabbed my plate that I was going to toss in the trash.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I want to. You feed me grapes."

We looked at each other, me standing over her, her looking up. She started to snicker.

"That didn't sound right."

"It's kind of disturbing, that image."

"Can you bring some palm fronds tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Right."