Molly glowered at the two middleaged women, snickering a few tables over.

While kids had their own lingo, so did grownups.  She took a nibble from her boss.  When Molly was in 9th grade, it was called a sub - but that term took on connotations, which had nothing to do with a mother and daughter splitting a large sandwich.  Even though the change was...what?  Two years?  Still, when kids said meatball sub, that meant going down to the square for food.  Boys were lucky, they could eat an entire footlong, and not gain an ounce.  Molly still had ten pounds to offload before school started - which was just over a week away.  Meanwhile, the dessert kiosk beckoned, but Molly kept her eyes from wandering in that direction. 

The flatscreen on the wall, near where the snickerers were seated, was concluding the forecast.  In short: rain, and more rain.

"Bummer!" Molly stirred unsweetened iced tea, then continued, "thad' el trash the guys' weekend."

June pursed her lips, but let her daughter's contractions slide.  "No worries, sweetie, your father and brother will have a good time anyway."

"Wa..."  Molly glanced at the map, now fading from the screen.  "Doing what?"

"Getting wet and muddy."  June stretched her lips, then added, "the retreat is about indoor activities as well, a conference."

Oh brother, good luck with that!  Molly suppressed the jibe - Robert sitting quietly...for more than fifteen minutes??  Yeah, right!

It was as if June had read her daughter's mind.  "Robert will learn things."

"Things?"

The conversation was preempted, from a news announcement, coming from the screen.  Upon the screen, two men - one in a some 20k business suit, the other in a uniform, with metals about everywhere - were shaking hands.  The guy in the military gear, was significantly shorter than President Donald's.  Yes, the trade agreement had been met, but their mannerisms screamed for want of boxing gloves.  

Who would win?  Molly pondered.  While President Donald's stood 6'2" and appeared to be a bit more than able to hold his own, the Russian Premier looked like he could fold the President like a dollar store camp chair.   The scene then faded to a more recent one, but not before the two snikerers took to cursing - bad!  Without so much as even ONE commercial break, the screen showed a wedding, which had taken place...last tuesday.  Or had it been wednesday?  Whatever...the cathedral - which, back in soviet days had been a meeting hall, had been restored to being a place where people gathered to sing hymns, and to hear Bible sermons.  

The cursings became a bit louder. 

"Please!"  A grandmother whispered, while holding her hands against her youngster's ears.  The old woman's plea was not taken too kindly.  Shaken, she placed bills on the table - alongside the two unfinished lunches - she quietly, but quickly, escorted her grandbaby out the door.  

Molly glowered.  The old woman didn't appear to have money left over to spend on lunches, that couldn't be enjoyed.  Molly wanted to go over and just pop the loud one.  Her mother's eyes - a bit cowered - calmly said, "Sweetie, just let it pass."  Her mom knew things that Molly didn't, so she stayed.  Mean could be dealt with.  But vicious??  That, you gave a wide berth...if at all possible.

As June began reaching for her purse, her hand stayed, her attention upon the screen.  "Oh my goodness!"  The bride's dress was both simple and lovely.  That was becoming a trend, a return to a time when wedding dresses weren't just packed away, post-ceremony.  New brides were wearing them to dinner parties and such, even as long as two years after the wedding.  

Not everyone welcomed this economy.  Certainly not the two hyenas, who were currently nipping at each other, over ... oh, probably the lunch check.

The camera then focused upon the Premier, who had accompanied his granddaughter down the long aisle, to where the President's grandson awaited.  The look on the groom's face, took on an expression of concern, when his grand father-in-law spoke something into the guy's ear.  It was then, June smiling, - ear to ear - blurted out a russian phrase.  Best translated as:  "Treat her right, or I'll kill you."  She then giggled like a school girl.

The two hyenas were not amused.

S*it!  Molly gulped.  "Mom, we'd better go."