I love that word! Well, actually it's not a word so much as it's a phrase. It's Italian, they have things like that, go figure. It means "dare to live". How can you not love a challenge of that enormity??? It has a Spanish equivalent, "Viva Ya", but that just doesn't seem to carry the same degree of UMPH that "Vivere" does. Sad but true.
Anyway, I got to see a perfect example of vivere in action the other day and I was genuinely impressed. I was shopping at Woodman's (and you all know what kind of trouble I can get into at Woodman's) and I inevitably find myself caught in a log jam in the meat department that is being caused by the lady on the end cap who is passing out the freebies. Of course, the masses are descending on her like harpies creating something akin to a 300 car pile up on the I-5. I have NO patience for this kind of crap. All I want to do is get into the other aisle and start rifling through the bacon to find a couple of good packages. But no, I am stuck in the shark tank at feeding time. I just decided to give up the ghost and kept myself entertained by hiding packages of frozen breakfast sausages behind the hamburger buns that were on display next to me. Should smell lovely in a couple of days, I thought to myself. Finally the masses had satiated themselves and moved on to greener end caps when I get to the end of the aisle and see what all of the fuss was about. OMG, I was in heaven!!! The days freebie was Hebrew National All Beef Hotdogs!!! HEBREW NATIONAL ALL BEEF HOTDOGS!!! They're all beef!!! They're Kosher!!! They plump up!!! They were FREE!!! FREE!!! I jammed on the brakes so hard I left rubber in the aisle. There they were. Wonderfully browned, cut into quarters and laid out on a plate with pretty little frilly toothpicks in them. There were four of them left. That would make an entire hot dog. An entire Hebrew National All Beef Hotdog. Mine, I said to myself. MINE!!! And them I saw him...
He was four at the very most and since he was standing up in the cart that his mother was pushing in my direction we were eye to eye with each other. I could see the spark in his eyes. I could feel the fire in his soul, hell you could of roasted marshmallows with it. And I could read his mind. Mine, I heard him think. Those hotdogs are mine!!! MINE!!! He had this look on his face that I can only describe as cross between "I haven't eaten since last week" and "You mean Santa is actually REAL???". And he had some fresh drool running down his chin. Ah, the power of vivere!!! So he and I start giving each other the hairy eyeball in between glances over at the hotdog. Yes, I was having a stare down with a four year old over a hotdog. A small part of me was embarrassed. OK, a very small part because the majority of me was concentrating on all beef goodness. I knew I had him bested, after all as I am want to say, old age and treachery will always overcome youth and beauty. Then the little shit beat me to the punch. He jumps to the front of the cart, grabs all four pieces of hotdog and proceeds to jam them into his mouth. Toothpicks and all. You little fucker!!!
OK, I immediately descend into full melt down mode. I was THIS close to starting to stamp my feet, wave my arms in the air wildly, get my lower lip vibrating wildly and start doing one of those 45 second inhales that results in a glass shattering High-C over Middle-C outburst of rage. Luckily the freebie lady sensed all hell was going to be breaking loose shortly so she quickly started slicing up some more and rolling them in my direction. I quickly consumed Hebrews with a gusto heretofore unknown on that end cap. Life was good.
And then I heard him. His High-C over Middle-C was extraordinary. As was the sight of his mother trying to pull several toothpicks out of his tongue as he stamped up and down on the bread, eggs and juice packs that were in the cart with him. Hey, little dude, Carpe Diem. Just make sure that you take the toothpicks out first!!!
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