At the very end of my run this morning, or, more technically, my cooldown walk, I ran into my buddy Charles, the overnight manager at Fairway in my neighborhood,
He was on West 75th, at the back of his car, with the trunk open, and inside were several big bags of potato chips, mostly the Ruffles depicted here, and one bag of Lays ruffled chips as well. I made some remark about how wherever he was going was the place to be because of the potato chips.
He immediately grabbed a bag and handed it to me, and I told him he just made my day. He said, “What, you’re not allowed to have chips in your house?” I told him that I have absolutely no control when it comes to chips, so I usually don’t allow them in my house.
I said that for a lot of girls, diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but for me Ruffles are. He laughed his big laugh and told me I was silly, and the entire exchange was just so giddy-making.
Anyway, this reminded me of Charles Chips, which we used to have delivered to our house back in the late ’60s in a big mustard-colored tin with a brown logo, which always delighted me. So today’s exchange really was, literally, Charles chips!