The true meaning of being thankful blossoms at the grocery store. In line at Grocery Outlet yesterday, a nice old man in front of me looked me squarely in the eyes and told me I was beautiful. I thanked him, and for a moment, considered blushing. Then he asked me if I wanted a big dill pickle. I smiled, wondering if he meant his pickle, the one he was holding in his left hand and almost finished eating, or just a pickle. He must have read my mind, because he quickly added that he had a big jar of them in his car. I politely declined. He stared at me and just smiled the most lovely smile, and then walked away with his Monster, bag of chips, and pickle-infused beer breath. What a nice man.