The scene: The organic poultry section where we were both listlessly patting the packaged drumsticks and antibiotic-free ground turkey.
Her: "This song reminds me of high school..."
Me: (focusing on the piped-in music and recognizing the familiar notes of "Saturday in the Park" by Chicago) "Yes, me too, I guess."
Her: "I used to smoke a lot of pot back then."
Me: "Is that so?"
Her: "I still do."
She looked at me expectantly as if it were now my turn to elaborate upon my own hallucinogenic habits both past and present--of which there are none.
Me: (instead of nodding politely and continuing to my original destination -- the Pirate's Booty display, one aisle over) "I really didn't smoke pot."
Her: "I know where you can get some."
Me: (a little shocked at this point and not wanting her to know how totally uncool I am...plus I had just seen an episode of "Intervention" the night before and figured I was up for the challenge) "I have asthma. I can't smoke anything."
Her: "Put it in brownies."
Her: "You can make tea with it! You put it in one of those little metal tea thingies that you hang over the edge of the cup..."
Me: "Oh, you mean a teaball!" (Why was I still talking?)
Her: "Yes! A teaball! I couldn't think of what they're called!"
Me: "I know! I forget words all the time these days!"
Her: "Getting older is a bitch!"
Me: "It sure is!"
Her: "Well, have a great day!"
Me: "You, too!"