Quaker oats.

My husband, myself and our four lovely children were walking home from church on Sunday. It was a beautiful day and we were enjoying the sunshine and having a nice talk about philosophy and the hardships of being the nursery leader and teaching the Young Men in the ward (that would be me and my husband, respectively.)

Thomas was fussy and wouldn't sit in the stroller, so I was carrying him and Joseph was casually hanging out in the backward facing sitting position of our sit-n-stand, and the girls were running too far ahead, as usual. Suddenly, a man stopped us as he was walking by.

"Quakers!" He exclaimed. "I used live out in Pennsylvania! Man, I never thought I'd see one of you guys out here!" No, really, he only spoke using exclamation marks.

Now, yes, my husband does have a beard, (picture courtesy of my daughter, the mustache is gone now, a condition I placed on Don when I decided I really do like kissing him...) but I was dressed somewhat less Quakerish. I had on a dress more reminiscent of the 1970s than the 1640s, and Abby was wearing her usuall pink princess polka dot dress that she adores so much. In other words, we don't really look like Quakers. But all this man saw was the beard.

Don quickly replied "Yup, I'm just lookin for my horse 'n buggy." but the man quickly scoffed at that idea.

"No, that's the Amish!" The man exclaimed. "I know that much!" and then we were passing each other, and he continued on to his destination and we to ours. We looked at each other and just laughed.


This happens to Don all the time.