And so it came as no surprise (a little shock, sure, but those don't mean much) the other day when I zipped into Giant Eagle looking for a block of American because you can't have cheeseburgers without cheese, and discovered Aunt Yvette studying the Goudas sans top. "Aunt Yvette," I began, a little embarrassed at first, I admit, but then I remembered Aunt Yvette is the least embarrassment-inducing person I know, "aren't you, well, aren't you a mite cold here in the refrigerated section?" "State of mind, son, state of mind. Haven't I told you that before? Besides, I've got natural insulation. The best kind. Who eats this stuff anyway," she inquired while tossing aside a wheel of brie. "I just thank God for gravity and a stretchy waistband. Otherwise some nosy, ashamed of the human body type would probably take issue with my natural assets. Never underestimate the efficacy of a stretchy waistband, by the way." Because we look after each other in this town, I asked, "So what did happen to your shirt anyway, Aunt Yvette?" Ultimately she opted for some sharp cheddar and made to move on, but although she can be short, Aunt Yvette is never not polite. "Fella outside in the parking lot asking for money. Said his house burned down. Said all he had was the clothes on his back, which was kind of misinformation seeing that all he had on was a pair of shorts. So I gave him five dollars and my shirt. If he doesn't have one, and I've got more at home, I kind of have to give it to him, don't you reckon? Excuse me, I've got to go get some bread."
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