Remember when TRQ wanted to go to Trader Joe's and buy Son #4 some Jo-Jo's? Only she called them dingle-dangles? And I challenged her to walk inside the store and ask the first guy she saw where his dingle-dangles were?
Anyway. Son #1 told me how you can buy miniature versions of that excellent French pastry thing. You know the one I mean. The flat, curvy one. Pantierres! Yes, pantierres!
So I drove myself over to TJ's this morning and asked the first guy I saw where his pantierres were. The tiny pantierres.
He just stared at me and suddenly I wondered if in that noisy store it sounded like I was asking him where his panties were. You know. The tiny panties.
Finally he looked at me and said, "You mean the palmier pastries?"
PALMIER, PEOPLE. FOR THE LOVE OF.
And now I can never go inside Trader Joe's again. Not for tiny panties. And not for dingle-dangles either.