I Used to Hate Peanuts

It is true. I hated peanuts of all forms. It does not matter which conglomeration of confectioneries might be combined in order to form something palatable. As the past tense of the title suggests, I no longer hate peanuts.

I was standing in line at Safeway today buying a box or three of Cracker Jack. I really only wanted one box, but alas they were in a three pack sort of situation. The lady at the check out counter asked me if they still come with prizes. I replied "I don't really know, I don't really eat Cracker Jack." Granted this might be a confusing statement to make when one is purchasing three boxes of Cracker Jack, but she replied with "Well I didn't really ask if you eat the things...I just wanted to know if they still come with prizes." A fair question to which I stated, "I know they used to come with temporary tattoos." I hoped this to end the conversation but the lady in line behind me replied, "You know what? I think they do come with prizes still." I could not consult the box because the checker had sent a bag boy with my boxes to be price checked. They were not ringing up, I said, "I believe they are $1.99." About five minutes later the bag boy comes back to inform me I was wrong, they were in fact $1.59.

I had hoped to move past this discussion when the lady in the line said. "So you gonna propose to your lady with those? Cause if that were the case it wouldn't even matter that you had some prize or not. Although you could use a ring in the box..." Granted, I am sure this would be a surprise to any girl who loves Cracker Jack, but not really my style. But what struck me was the tenacity with which she said it. My first supposition upon viewing someone purchase Cracker Jack would be, that man or woman likes popcorn with caramel and nuts. Maybe I just feel like a private person in face-to-face conversation, but I don't think I would ever ask such a question. Maybe I really am cut out for life in a large city. I don't want to talk to people in line at the supermarket, I want to get my food and get out. I don't care what the lady from Perkins, who bakes the Éclairs says about my Cracker Jack. I really do want to move out of Colorado, but only with a very special girl by my side. I may not have the money to propose to her yet, but I certainly won't be asking her with a plastic ring from a box of Cracker Jacks. For some reason that doesn't spell forever to me. It spells fourth grade.