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Posts Tagged ‘shopping’

Recently, I realized I’ve turned into my father. Yes, I know this is odd. I’ve also turned into my mother and possibly my grandmother… there’s that uncle too. Anyway, I discovered my transformation into my father while I was at the grocery store. It’s Christmas you see. This means that everyone completely loses all ability to think and create lists and remember the simple things that are needed for cooking and gifting and all that comes along with Christmas. I travel to the store quite capably every other day of the year — but today, the eve of Christmas Eve, well… I turned into my father and made four trips to secure sour cream, butter, milk, and cheese.

Now, my father made these eve of Christmas Eve trips alone so I can only speculate that my behavior once I was in the store resembled his.

It started by securing the best parking spot in the lot, the coveted spot right next to the cart return area — a stroke of sheer luck no doubt.

The store was packed more on this fourth trip than it was earlier in the day — also, the looks on the faces of the shoppers had changed from a cherub-like “happy holidays” smile to an affect as flat as an elephant’s foot. The workers were also showing signs of the eve of Christmas Eve shopping stress — there seemed to be a lot of shelf stocking going on as opposed to employees eager to locate “those-weird-food-items-you-can’t-locate-on-your-own”.

I have shopped at the same store for several years now but for some inexplicable reason, this night I had to stop at the end of each aisle and look up unknowingly at the sign to tell me what items were located on each aisle — I stood under each sign at the beginning of each aisle. The eve of Christmas Eve short-term memory loss had clearly kicked in — I’m sure my father suffered from this, I’m sure of it.

Once I decided I needed to venture down an aisle, I would pause in the middle, my cart spread across as if I was parking a Lincoln Town car there — no way around me, completely unaware of the back-up I was creating.

I looked down at the ground, hoping to spark my memory of all the ingredients needed for all the special dishes — my mannerisms reeked of dementia.

I talked to myself — going through the items I knew I had in the cupboard and the refrigerator. I answered myself, “You just bought unsalted butter on the last trip”, I’d say aloud for all to hear. “Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot”, I answered back even louder with a smile on my face — I oozed with the eve of Christmas Eve psychosis. People turned their carts away so as not to startle me. The always helpful produce man retreated behind the bananas.

“I am not an ANIMAL!”, I screamed in my head. Which of course made me laugh aloud — the women were protecting their children.

I decided on my fourth visit to the store that I desperately needed margarita mix, for obvious reasons (I was clearly having an eve of Christmas Eve psychotic episode and what better way to welcome a psychotic episode AND your relatives then with tequila?)

My cart was filled with the necessities for a happy get together, once again, and I felt certain I could leave this place — this vortex of confused people — hoping never to return (until at least the day after Christmas which is, of course, when I will realize that I’m out of chocolate milk). I decided to park my Buick of a cart along an end cap this time while I did another mental review of my cart, matched it to my mental review of what was in my cupboards and refrigerator, checked it against my mental review of the needed ingredients for all the dishes I was preparing, and then… did it all again. Unfortunately, I once again did my mental review aloud for the whole of the store to witness… “squash casserole — this, this, and this… done, good. Pumpkin black bean soup — that, that, that, and this… yay, I’m doing great.” I looked up to see that produce man hunkered down deep in the grapes this time — one eye on me, one eye searching for the nearest exit.

I headed for the checkout, with a rather large, possibly scary smile on my face — I was feeling so smug at this point.

I made small talk with the girl at the checkout… “So, are you all open tomorrow?”

“Yes”, she replied without looking up.

“Oh good”, I smiled. “Gives me plenty of opportunity to come back again when I get home and realize I have forgotten something.”, I laughed one of those weird laughs that you laugh when you realize that you’re sounding a wee bit off and the fact that you’re now laughing that weird laugh doesn’t really help your cause in the eve before Christmas Eve psychosis defense. This is when I realized that I had, in fact, turned into my father. The supreme disher-outer of droll jokes and one liners that no one laughed at more than he did.

She continued to look down, not wanting our eyes to meet. Clearly, we were through exchanging pleasantries.

I was back to talking to myself with the occasional fit of laughter — thinking about that tequila.

No one asked if I needed help to my car with my bags — the baggers were mysteriously absent from the front of the store.

I’m home now. With my loot. The eve of Christmas Eve is here. My fourth trip to the store was hopefully my last.

So I say to you all, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a… what’s that my precious daughter? We’re out of toilet paper?”

I’ll be right back…

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I had a wonderful “girls day out” with my youngest daughter recently. We started the day at the grocery store — never too thrilling of a time I guess, unless you’re six and there with your mom. I remember my trips to the grocery store with my mom… I remember it being fun and adventurous. When a new Kroger opened up in my town, I went there with her. There was a small door in the front of the store — I remember the scene very vividly… my mother crouching down, pushing the plastic doors to the side, peeking in, and proceeding to walk on through — I followed, assuming this was a bonus feature to the new Kroger… carnival doors. Of course, a few minutes later we realized that the new, small plastic doors were for the bag boys to push the carts through — the real doors were on the side, where we failed to look.

Back to my wonderful “girls day out” day with my youngest… after the store, we decided to go to the movies. I love going to the movies, always have. And this day was no different. We gathered up our popcorn and headed to a good seat right in the middle. We laughed and told jokes and repeatedly said, “…we gotta see that!” after each preview. We put on our 3D glasses when we were instructed to do so and we reached our hands in front of us to grab the objects that appeared so close. We held hands. We let our heads rest on each other. I looked at my daughter next to me — the smile on her face, the wonder in her eyes, and remembered a special movie time I spent with my father.

Star Wars had just come out — I believe I was in the fourth grade. The special effects on this movie were supposed to be unbelievable, and they were. My father and I sat there, watching the action, eating our popcorn, in awe of the happenings on the screen… together. I think everyone who watched that movie at the theatre remembers it with fondness and wonder — movies give us wonder. We wonder if it’s possible to fly a spaceship or fall in love with a stranger or befriend a gorilla. Movies put wonder in us all, no matter how old we get — wonder abounds at the movies.

There’s something about the movies. It’s not even the movie itself — it’s the theatre and the big screen and the mood lighting and the sound surrounding you. It’s sitting next to someone you love and holding hands. It’s resting your head on a shoulder and leaning in for a kiss from your crush. It’s laughter and tears — felt by hundreds at once. It’s singing along to the Time Warp and dressing in character at midnight. It’s hissing the bad guy and applauding at the end. It’s staying for the credits… because that part is just as interesting. It’s sitting in the balcony just to say you did. It’s gathering outside to relive the good parts. Movies are magical and whimsical and even when the movie is forgettable… going to the movies isn’t. There’s just something about the movies.

Now, once again, back to my wonderful “girls day out” with my daughter. The movie ended but the day together didn’t. We continued to hold hands as we left the theatre. We talked about all those funny toys and we cringed when we spoke of the bad guy. I continued to stare at her amazing face — the wonder of it all. And I wonder what stories she’ll tell, what stories she’ll remember and if her stories will include something about the movies — I hope her stories include something about the movies.

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Beautiful flowers aren’t they?

Getting flowers always makes me feel all warm and fuzzy — well, these flowers came with instructions.

I was looped conned asked to do a post where I had to reveal three things about myself that no one (or hardly anyone) knows, by my good friend — Judy Clement Wall.  Oh boy… my favorite type of game (note the sarcasm). But, on the plus side, once I’m finished you must respond and reveal three things about yourself to the rest of us. Then I’m going to point you in the direction of some other blogs and see if they’ll play along as well. Who knows what knowledge we’ll all acquire before this thing ends!

So, my turn:

  1. I am not a drink sharer — with anyone. I’m not a germiphobe or anything, it’s just that the thought of drinking after someone really really makes me cringe in horror. Now, if my kids are thirsty, and there is no other option, I will give them my drink — give. It becomes their’s and I have to locate a new one. If it’s girls night out (yes — I know, I’m not sure what that is either) and we all order some exotic fruity Caribbean drinks that you assume I will let you taste — no. Wow, I feel so much better after that big reveal — let’s continue.
  2. I’m infected by the “maleness” gene. (I know your curiosity’s all sparked at this.) There’s a Simon Baron-Cohen quote that I repeat in almost every training I do, “Autism is the ultimate form of maleness”. I think this really sums up autism to those who know little about it. Think about the difference between two girl friends going to a movie together as opposed to two guy friends going to a movie together (you know, the guys need to have that safety seat between them — and absolutely no sharing of popcorn). I’ve always been a bit of the athletic type (ok, so I played every sport available to me), this usually meant I was around boys (I always liked beating them the most). So, inadvertently, the maleness left its mark on my psyche. While other girls had Barbie’s, I always had some sort of ball. My mother was constantly dressing me in ruffles and black patent shoes (I still become ever so queasy at the memory of those outfits). The maleness manifested in me as a lack of girly abilities. You know, like the ability to enjoy a shopping trip when you know you aren’t going to buy anything. Or the ability to gaze longingly at a shoe because you know they’ll just hurt your feet later — those important girly abilities. But, I’m learning. Learning that sappy can be good and shopping can be fun (with the right company). I even found myself gazing longingly at a shoe yesterday (yes Mother, a pair of Converse… but, they are black). Ok — that’s two. One more.
  3. I don’t really like wine. I wish I did — really. Sometimes, if I’m at a party or out to dinner I drink it just to look hip. I want to be that person who loves a good glass of wine — they always look so sophisticated — they know the difference between sweet and dry and full-bodied. So, I keep wine at my house — just to impress people. And I make a point to have really good wine too — of course, I have to rely on others to tell me what really good wine is. So, when you come to my house, I’ll pour you a glass — and when you say how good it is and don’t I just love it, I’ll nod in agreement.

Ok, I really feel better after that. Now, I want to point everyone in the direction of a few other blogs to whom I will pass the beautiful bouquet:

  1. Tracey Cook Hodge, she has a unique blog, Picture This, where she exhibits the beauty of everyday life through her lens. I can’t wait until summer, when I can get her to take some pictures for me.
  2. Lori Browning, she is such a genuine person. Her blog, The Incredible Woody, is a personal account of her daily journey’s.
  3. And finally, my newest friend, Jennifer Mendelsohn. Her blog, Clever Title TK, always makes me laugh and learn. You should visit it.

Now it’s your turn. Play along and reveal three secret things about yourself — it won’t hurt, I promise.

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