FOILED


© Jeanne E Webster All Rights Reserved

I went shopping today for a few groceries and craft supplies. After loitering in the craft area for assorted items, I realized I was tiring and needed a rest room. The restroom came with explicit instructions on how to use the sink, water faucet and soap dispenser, and I was back out onto the main floor in just a few minutes.

One comment: I detest those self-flush toilets! I was “resting” on one of them that insisted I was finished every time I leaned forward just a tad bit. That gadget must have surprised many a rester.

Back to shopping, I pieced through the pet supplies aisle, picked out a few cans of dog food for my spaniel and a cuttlebone for my cockatiel.

Ahead was the sundry aisles . . . should have been a snap. I selected some room aromatics, a jug of laundry soap, a couple of mousetraps, and 12 rolls of toilet paper. Almost through, produce aisle awaits!

I am not a happy shopper. I detest the ordeal. Give me a list and I’ll go through a familiar store in no time flat. Usually; today was an exception. Perhaps I should not have shopped today, it being Sunday, the Lord’s Day.

In my previous life, we never went anywhere on Sunday, ‘cept church and Sunday school. We stayed home the rest of the day and read the Bible, sat outside in decent weather in the porch swing, watched the chickens go from yard corner to fence corner, kicking up lawn stubble as they searched frantically for bugs and more bugs.

Occasionally we were allowed to go swimming at the lake down the road apiece, if it was warm enough out. If it wasn’t warm enough, we would pitch stones across the water or look under rocks for fishing worms. Then, if that adventure was profitable enough, we’d do a little fishing from the bank of the pond next door to my uncle’s house. But we never, ever went shopping. We wouldn’t dare make anyone work on the Lord’s Day. No siree.

To get back to shopping, I was approaching the produce aisles, almost done with my ordeal in the store. I suddenly remembered I needed some aluminum foil, as I was in the midst of fixin’ Christmas recipes. I had already baked Gram’s filled cookies, a full charge of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, a batch of penuche fudge, and a new recipe of oatmeal cranberry bars. All I had left to bake was the old-fashioned sugar cookies, and maybe if everyone behaved, a batch of brownies with a great big Hershey bar in the middle of it for added effect.

I returned to the paper product aisle and found the foil. All I needed was one roll, and not the heavy type for roasting turkeys and such, just one roll of regular foil. So much for that.

There before my eyes on the shelves from top to bottom was FOIL: heavy-duty foil, 20 feet of foil, oiled foil, frosted foil, thin foil, 50 feet of foil, extra heavy duty foil, 200 feet of foil, 3 foot long foil, unoiled foil, brand name foil and store brand foil.

This is why I do not like to shop. I make a list, a simple list of standard things, no embellishment stuff or bells and whistles on it, just ordinary everyday things. You’d think a person could go into a store, walk over to the right shelf, pick out the item, and set it into the shopping cart. No major decisions; simple equations. Go on to the next item, select it and set it into the cart and in no time at all, you’re checking out at the register, walking out to the parking lot, in your car and, poof, you’re home again without a hitch.

But it doesn’t work that way and I know it. I don’t want to have to make decisions that materialize from the atmosphere within the store instead of my organized frame of mind in my own home. Too complicated.

I made it home with all my STUFF, unpacked it and put it away. The box of ungreased, unlined, non-perforated, non-heavy-duty, uncrinkled, 200 feet of Great Value Aluminum Foil currently resides in my cupboard. And that is that. Tomorrow I am going to bake.

Puff, the Disappearing Greeting Card

shopcart

© Jeanne E Webster.  All Rights Reserved

Cloudy, chilly with a hint of spring yet an aftertaste of winter still lingered. Echoes of a family situation to a tiny degree…perhaps?

We managed to partake of Italian sweet sausage and eggs for breakfast, with a side of homemade bread, butter and plum preserves. Jake and Molly, our resident cockatiels, placed their order for buttered toast and egg yolks and thoroughly enjoyed their gobbling.

Our trainers, Lacey and Misty, the jaunty Cavalier King Charles Spaniels in our midst, allowed us to walk them for their morning toilet rituals, and upon returning to the mud room, announced their desires for three milk bones with a beggin’ strip on the side, please. After their habitual “You can pet me now” and performing their civic duty of disposing of any and all crumbs that perchance landed on the tile floor under our dining table, they retired to their snuggle beds for a mid-morning nap.

We took their absence to be a good time for an outing away from the “kids,” which amounted to grocery shopping at the local “Wal*M” store. I must add here that we have convinced our “kids” that we are mighty hunters, as they stand in awe every time we return from town with all those goodies. We get respect wherever we can!

Anyway, the shopping spree was truly an outing, as one must walk the entire length of the store (I call it a warehouse) probably four times to gather all the items on the list. My husband usually arranges the necessary items in a list according to how they are on display in the store. This works well until the next time the store performs a redo.

Pharmaceuticals are on the right as you enter the north door, next you’ll find the hardware assortments, with clothes and kitchen and bath supplies stacked on the right, continue left past the toys, photo lab and shoe department, and you end up in the grocery aisles to the right. Up and down the food aisles a number of times, trying to find the items that are there no more, you stop an employee and ask for assistance and are usually referred to the mystery aisle of the day. Upon arrival, you see the longed for item staring at you from the aisle you have passed six times already.

You’ve finally made it to the checkout area and scan for the quickest exit lane, when it dawns on you there is no quick exit today. You would think Saturdays would call for a few, I say, a few more checkout personnel to speed up the process. Naw! Why spoil your fun?

Grumbling, you shuffle to the nearest checkout lane, slap down one of those black separator sticks, and begin loading your paraphernalia on the ever-rolling belt. Your items are hastily bagged and plunged into an empty carriage as you slide your plastic card across the magic black box, quickly review the total cost, and are handed your long, too long white receipt. Whew!

One problem awaits though…you drive the 10 miles home, carry the items into the house, put them away and a little tiny, wee light bulb comes on!

“Honey, did you see the birthday card we bought for Henry?”

“No, Sweetheart, I’ll check out the empty bags.”

Silence blankets the kitchen area while the hunt is on for a birthday card.

“I don’t see it, Dear.”

“Well, check the receipt; maybe it is still in the store and didn’t get checked out.”

“It’s on the receipt, Honey, we paid for it.”

“Well, I guess the checker didn’t get it put into our bags!”

By now our brains have been processing our next choices: drive all the way back to the store and check for the card…or, since it only cost $2.95, we’ll just forget it and next time watch closer when our stuff is packed. Hmmm. I’ll let you figure that one out!

Have a nice weekend and stay warm. Oh, yeah, if you happen to be at that store, would you take my receipt with you …?

misty1

 

Foiled , Oiled or Unfoiled

foil

© Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved.

I went shopping today for a few items, mainly groceries. First, I lurked in the pharmacy area for bathing stuff then made the rounds of assorted clutter– glue sticks, yarn, craft supplies and such. I had my list and was prepared for my self-allotted time to shop.

After visiting the rest room, where I rested, washed my hands and dried them according to the explicit instructions, I was back out onto the main floor in just a few minutes. I detest those self-flush toilets! I was “resting” on one of them once that insisted I was finished every time I leaned forward just a tad bit. That gadget must have surprised many a rester.

Back to shopping, I inspected the pet supplies aisle, picked out a few cans of dog food for my spaniel and a cuttlebone for my cockatiel. Ahead was the sundry aisles. . . should have been a snap. I selected some room aromatics, a jug of laundry soap, a couple of mousetraps, and 12 rolls of toilet paper. Almost through, produce aisle awaits!

I am not a happy shopper. I detest the ordeal. Give me a list and I’ll go through a familiar store in no time flat. Usually; today was an exception. Perhaps I should not have shopped today, it being Sunday, the Lord’s Day.

In my previous life, we never went anywhere on Sunday, ‘cept church and Sunday school. We stayed home the rest of the day and read the Bible, sat outside in decent weather in the porch swing, watched the chickens go from yard corner to fence corner, kicking up lawn stubble as they searched frantically for bugs and more bugs.

Occasionally we were allowed to go swimming at the lake down the road apiece, if it was warm enough out. If it wasn’t warm enough, we would go to the lake and pitch stones across the water or look under rocks for fishing worms. Then if that adventure was profitable enough, we’d do a little fishing from the bank of the pond next door to my uncle’s house. But we never, ever went shopping. We wouldn’t dare cause anyone to have to work on the Lord’s Day. No siree.

To get back to shopping, I was almost to the produce aisles, almost done with my ordeal in the store. I suddenly remembered I needed some aluminum foil, as I was in the midst of fixing Christmas recipes. I had already baked Gram’s filled cookies, a full charge of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, a batch of penuche fudge, and a new recipe of oatmeal cranberry bars. All I had left to bake was the old-fashioned sugar cookies and maybe if everyone behaved, a batch of brownies with a great big Hershey bar in the middle of it for added effect.

I returned to the paper product aisle and found the foil. All I needed was one roll, and not the heavy type for roasting turkeys and such, just one roll of regular foil. So much for that. There before my eyes on the shelves from top to bottom was FOIL—heavy-duty foil, 20 feet of foil, oiled foil, frosted foil, thin foil, 50 feet of foil, extra heavy duty foil, 200 feet of foil, 3 foot long foil, unoiled foil, brand name foil and store brand foil.

This is why I do not like to shop. I make a list, a simple list of standard things, no embellishment stuff or bells and whistles on it, just ordinary everyday things. You’d think a person could go into a store, walk over to the right shelf, pick out the item, and set it into the shopping cart. No major decisions; simple equations. Go on to the next item, select it and set it into the cart and in no time at all, you’re checking out at the register, walking out to the parking lot, in your car and, poof, you’re home again without a hitch.

It doesn’t work that way and I know it. I don’t want to have to make decisions that materialize from the atmosphere within the store instead of my organized frame of mind in my own home. Too complicated.

I made it home with all my STUFF, unpacked it and put it away. The box of ungreased, unlined, non-perforated, non-heavy-duty, uncrinkled, 200 feet of Great Value Aluminum Foil currently resides in my cupboard. And that is that. Tomorrow I am going to bake.