The transition

People have often said I say or do things just like my grandma did...but it's getting worse than that...much worse.  I'm afraid I'm starting to sound like the Quackdaddy.  Last night was another perfect example.

We went to Dairy Queen after Lane's ball game and were in the drive-up.  I was driving so I placed the order and all I wanted was a child-sized chocolate cone.  Very simple.  Nothing you have to mix or chop.  So easy...except they didn't have any chocolate ice cream.  I am not a fan of vanilla ice cream so when they are out of chocolate, I'm at a loss.  (Insert Jay laughing here because this happens all the time and he finds it funny.)

We pull around and she opens up the window.  I ask her why they do not have chocolate ice cream and tell her that the Marshall DQ has chocolate ice cream all the time and it's very good (as if that will change her mind about whether or not they have chocolate ice cream).  She looks at me like "what am I supposed to do?" and shuts the window...probably cussing me to her coworkers.  Apparently at this DQ, they clean the machine every Monday night.  I will have to remember that.

As soon as she shut the window, I looked at my family and said, "I sounded like the Quack just then, didn't I?" Uh-huh.

Because I could just hear him...The Quackdaddy has this thing about hot, fresh coffee.  If the waitress can't guarantee it's hot, fresh coffee, he doesn't want it.  He asks repeatedly if she knows whether it is hot and fresh. Everywhere he orders coffee, this is the spiel, and he keeps track of which places have hot, fresh coffee.

A month or so ago after we were at a softball game in a nearby town.  There was a very controversial call (in our favor) and the opposing coach was livid which earned him a seat in the dugout for the remainder of the game.  I couldn't for the life of me understand what had just happened and no one around us really seemed to know.

After the game we went to a cafe up the road for supper and that coach and his family and another family came in.  After we finished eating, I told my crew that I was going to go ask that coach what the deal was with that call.  They all but begged me not to and high-tailed it to the car when I headed over to his table.  I had a nice little chat with the coach and the rest of his table, got the low-down on the peculiar call and was sure to tell them that my family was hiding in the car embarrassed of me.

I can pretty much talk to a brick wall.  I don't see a problem in it as long as I'm not being rude or obnoxious (which almost never happens...I think).  I always feel the need to explain myself or offer more detail than necessary in certain situations, and I enjoy striking up conversations with complete strangers.

It's inevitable.  The transition is taking place.  I'm becoming the Quackdaddy...