HEY! MEIJER! It's all fun and games until I have to use your restroom!

Here we go! Merry Christmas to All!  It's the 23rd of December and I was all set to write a really lovely holiday post about how my mother has become really passive aggressive regarding my housekeeping lately.  (Trust me, THAT was going to be LOVELY compared to what's coming.)  The problem is, after a wonderful dinner with an old college friend, Hubby and I made a stop...and that's where disaster struck.

Those of you who know me, or who read this blog on a regular basis, know that I would rather walk across hot coals than use a public restroom.  I've pontificated often enough about the woes, the pitfalls, and the nonsense I've experienced in public toilets all across this fine US of A.  (I recently read an article about restrooms in other countries that pretty much cured me of any desire to travel.)

Last night, on our way home from a really beautiful dinner with an old friend who's in the area for the holidays (That would be TODD of the "Todd, you've been warned" fame.) Hubby and I stopped at the Meijer store on our way home. Please note: This was NOT our regular Meijer in Waukesha, where the restrooms have been, in my experience, perfectly lovely.  This was a different Meijer.  And, in fairness, it was 7PM three days before Christmas.

Still. I checked.  Those bathroom check lists...yeah, that had been filled out.  So either that one ladies' room got crazy stupid busy between 6PM and 7PM on a Sunday night (I'm thinking not likely since this was the facility at the BACK of the store) OR, and this is what I'm going with, maybe the restroom checking isn't as, um, detailed as it should be.

Not that the restroom was dirty. It was not.

There were no bad smells. Nothing was overflowing.  The hot and cold water was working, there was paper towel in the dispenser for hand drying.  There were no puddles anywhere and everything was flushed clear.

So what...oh what...oh what could have been wrong?

Now, from here on it, it gets a little gross. So...TODD...don't read beyond this if you're easily grossed out!  (Or if you're going to send me an email or accost me in the hallway at church letting me know I grossed you out. YOU. HAVE. BEEN. WARNED.)

They. Were. Out. Of. Toilet. Paper.

THEY WERE OUT OF TOILET PAPER!

It was one of those double sided dispenser, and I'm a former janitor so I reached past those sharp teeth of death (why do we need such sharp edges to cut single ply paper?  Those teeth cut skin!  If it can puncture skin, it's complete overkill for use in cutting through translucent TP.) and I felt nothing. Not  a single square.

Now, normally this is not a problem. I mean, I typically carry a couple packets of nose tissue with me in my purse. 

Except....

Thanks to tightened security in various places and since I hate dragging a big purse around all the time, but it's still a necessity even though I'm lightyears past the diaper bag era of my life, I've been switching between my big purse and my little purse. Last night was a little purse night.

The nose tissues didn't make the jump.

What does one do?

Well...one does what one can.  And in this case...one had to use a teeny, tiny little lens whip she just happened to have in the bottom of her purse to clear up...enough...so that one could then move from the first stall to the second with a modicum of dignity.

Two lens wipes would have been good, but you know, I had one.

As a side note, I did the best I could with what I had and then moved over to the second stall, this one the handicapped stall.Now, I don't know what kind of ADA rules are in place for these stalls, but I found it really difficult to believe that in that entire GIANT stall one about the size of my home bathroom) the only place they could put the toilet was within four inches of the wall.  Seriously.  Anyone actually needing a handicapped stall could have parked a whole music festival of wheelchairs in there, but no one, and I mean no one, would have been able to actually use the toilet unless they sat side saddle, which is just uncomfortable.

Anyway, there WAS TP in there. Not in the dispenser...just a large wheel of single ply resting on the grab bar.  So...thusly I managed clean up and left the restroom determined the tell the first associate I saw that they needed to restock.

And then I didn't because the first associate I saw was a teen aged boy who looked like nothing in the world would make his life worse than to have me talk to him about toilet paper.  Instead, well, instead I waited a day and I'm sharing it with the rest of the world.

Well, it was a lens wipe, so my bum feels streak free?

Anyway, Merry Christmas. And Happy Hanukkah for my friends out there who celebrate that.  May your holidays be happy and bright and may your toilet paper be well stocked.

But just in case, I'll leave this cute picture of a Christmas goat for you to enjoy.

 

Good "old" self check: Why I won't be shopping at Woodman's again.

Happy Thursday all!

Since Peaches moved out I really don't have a reason to get my girth out of bed much before 7:30, which is about when I need to run a brush over my teeth and get into my desk chair for work.  Generally, however, I do get up a shade before 7, get a walk in, feed the cats, make coffee, that sort of thing.

I accomplish more before 8 AM than I do the entire rest of the day.  Wait...that didn't sound right.

Anyway, this morning, I decided to get up at 6, and get some light grocery shopping done.  Now, we have two 24 hour stores the same distance from my house. One is Meijer, one is Woodman's.  Product by product, price by price, I like Woodman's more.  They have more local brands that I really like. They have the flavor of Yoplait yogurt that Skippy really likes.  The thing is, I always feel a little claustrophobic in Woodman's because they are always more crowded, they have a lower ceiling, which makes them feel smaller.  Also, Meijer has a better meat and produce department.

So the biggest deciding factor for where I go and spend my grocery dollar tends to rest on the check out experience.

When it comes to check out, I like Woodman's more, as well, because they unload the cart, scan stuff, and load the cart again.  Given the constant pain I have in my hands and back, any help I can get with the groceries is appreciated.

The thing is, Woodman's NEVER has enough cashiers, which means standing in line forever, which, if you have read this blog for longer than a week, you know standing in line is not my favorite thing to do.  (Self check is NOT an option.  It's too hard on my hands and back.)  So if I shop at Woodman's it's either because Hubby is with me or because it's a weird time of day when the sto
re won't be mobbed.

Self check? You ask. Do I use self check?  NO!  Not if I can help it.  Unless they're handing discounts out for using a machine that gives you no customer service and yells at you for mystery items in the bagging area.

And, of course, I have trouble handling self check because it's never just SELF. Something always goes wrong, then I have to WAIT for a person to help me.  Add that to the sweat I build up (which triggers hot flashes) loading and unloading groceries and scanning them and bagging them and what you wind up with is a giant sweaty woman aching hands and back, swearing never to return to self check again. 

So today I arrived at the 47 check out lanes at the front of my Woodman's store.  It was 6:50 AM.  This is notable because, as I learned THIS MORNING, there are no live cashiers before 7 AM.  Oh sure, there's a big sign that says there's a full service lane....but there's no one in it. Which means self check.  So I hauled my cart down to self check...where there was a back up!  WHO ELSE IS SHOPPING BEFORE 7 IN THE MORNING ON A THURSDAY?

Apparently everyone.  Well, okay, four people which was just enough to bog down the self check system and make me wait in line.  TO CHECK OUT MY OWN GROCERIES.

Also, the people checking out their groceries at self check were all having, let's say, difficulty.  I actually waited four or five minutes before giving up and moving down to the regular lanes.  Better to wait for someone to open up a cash register than to watch people separately and in oh so many different way bog down the check out process.

I waited the six minutes (actually more like eight) it took for a cashier and bagger to walk over to an actual check out lane and open up. I then got my cart in there and let them do their work. It was early, so I expect little polite chit chat and I got what I expected.  But since I'd bought enough items for the silence to be uncomfortable, I thought I'd just kick things off a little.

"So I figured I'd wait for you to open up. I can't really do self check on my own," I said with a smile on my face.

"Oh then you're not going to like the news," muttered the cashier.

"Yeah, they're tearing out all of these lanes and putting in all self check," added the bagger, a sort of emo-hipster girl who could not have been more than thirteen.  (Also, she was clearly being trained by the cashier who was clearly exhausted with the training.)

"All?"  I gasp.

"Well, like, half of them.  That's what Gary decided," said the cashier.  "I wish I could decide stuff."

Granted, they never have more than half the check out lanes open at any given time. In fact, if Woodman's would open half the lanes, I would probably not have to stand in line there and I'd shop there more often.

Still, this was really disconcerting news.

"I'm not sure I like that. I have arthritis. It's hard for me to use the self check," I said in a conversational manner.  "Is this a matter of a labor shortage?"  (Woodman's is CONSTANTLY looking for cashiers. I figured maybe they just gave up looking.)

"No, this is a keeping things moving thing," grumbled the cashier.  "Other stores have all these self check lanes and it seems to be working."

You know what else would work?  Adding literally one, just one, more cashier to every shift.  Seriously.

"Wow. That's really disappointing that they are going that route," I say.

"Yeah, a lot of the old people aren't going to like it.," mumbles the emo-hipster bagger. 

Let's let that sink in for a moment.

Tiny blonde sad teen girl who is training on the job...did she just call me old?   Did she just lump me in with the OLD PEOPLE who can't operate self check, not because their hands are crippled with arthritis, but because they are confused by technology?  Did she just add me to the group of patrons who will be unhappy with this change not because it means, yet again, fewer services for the same amount of money, but because I'm too old to do things for myself?

I AM NOT OLD!  I was shopping before 7 in the morning! Old people don't shop then...well except for that one guy who was really bogging down self check this morning.  You know where old people are at 7 in the morning?  They are at DENNY'S. They are not grocery shopping.

I tried to reign in my rage.  "Well, I'm glad you're still going to have some real check out lanes.  I like having the extra help."

"Yeah, well, this wasn't my decision," said the very weary cashier.  "And a lot of old people are going to really not like this."

AGAIN WITH THE OLD!  First of all, aren't those OLD PEOPLE, also your customers?

Second...I combed my hair, I brushed my teeth, I put on eyeliner and a cool radio station T-shirt. I AM NOT OLD. I protect the use of self check because I don't like self check, and if it's not a matter of labor shortage, then why should I have to check out my groceries and scan them and bag them and load them in my cart?  

They don't make me do all that at Meijer.  

They also don't call me "Old" at Meijer.  

Just sayin'.

Could "Change of Life" mean standing in line is now entertaining?

It is a well known fact that I hate waiting in line.  It is also a well known fact that I always seem to wait in line behind someone who is making a gigantic deal out of nothing and holding up the line with complete nonsense, which then triggers my rage button.

I'm pretty sure this menopause thing...which I'll call chang-o from now on (for Change of Life) has changed my attitude about standing in line behind dumb dumbs. Listen to two stories from the last few days and see what you think:

Story #1.

I got in line at my local Meijer grocery store  (I tend to go there because it's way less crowded than Woodman's and generally has enough live cashiers to deal with the people in the store.)  There was no one ahead of me, but the cashier was scanning items.  I though maybe she was training or checking prices or something. She finished scanning the items ahead of mine. Mine were loaded on the belt.  I was, in terms of grocery check out, at the point of no return.

That's when she looked at me and said, "It's going to be a while."

Oh crap.

While I appreciated her honesty, no one likes to hear that, especially when they have frozen zucchini noodles on the belt.  (That's another blog.)

But still, I was curious.  What situation had I walked into?

"He's getting cash and she's getting a cake," the cashier said as if reading my thoughts.

Now I was really curious. Who would plan their lives so poorly that they have to get cash and one more item after they've put their stuff on the belt?  And who would possibly expect the world to stop long enough for them to get those things?

I got my answer a moment later when the oldest man in the world walked up to the cashier.

He had a wad of cash in his hand. The cashier told him the total.  "That's without the cake," she added.

"Is that with the cake?"  He asked.

"No. She hasn't brought the cake yet."

"So where's the cake?"

The cashier blinks, her brain realizing she has to adjust to now speak to an older man who is very deaf.  "SHE HASN'T BROUGHT IT HERE YET!"

But the man isn't listening. he's got his back turned to her.  He's getting his coin purse out of his back pocket. Now, the cashier and I believe he's getting exact change, since he had to go get cash.

Nope.

He pulled out a credit card and handed it to her. He stuffed his cash back into the coin purse.

the cashier ran the card and handed it back to him. At this moment the wife rolls up. And by "Rolls up" I mean she's in one of those scooter things stores provide.  In her front basket she's got a "cake."  It's actually a fluff dessert, the type that's layered whip topping/pie filling/whip topping. There might be cake in there...but I doubt it. Very pretty, very tempting.  Believe me, I've wanted to eat one for years.

Now, The Oldest Man is four steps away from the bagging area.  Roller Girl hands the cake to the cashier, who scans it and says, "That's six dollars even."

Oldest Man shuffles back, and takes the cake.

Roller Girl has not been paying attention to this transaction.  She's been adjusting her blouse or something.  When she finally looked up, she asked, "Did he get the cake?"

"Yes," Says cashier, "He has the cake."

Whereupon Roller Girl starts to wheel away from the cashier.  It takes a moment for the cashier to realize that Roller Girl thinks Oldest Man paid for the cake and she's about to leave without paying.

"No, no!"  yells cashier.  "He HAS the cake. You still have to PAY for the cake."

Roller Girl stops her ride, sighs heavily, and then backs up....beep....beep...beep.  SHE pulls out six dollars in cash.  Cashier takes it and then Roller Girl rolls away.

Cashier just shook her head and thanked me for waiting. I thanked her for the great theater.

That's when I realized standing in line was not automatically pushing my rage button.

Which brings me to story #2.

After church on Sunday we stopped at Kohls.  The good one, in Muskego. The two stores in Waukesha are terrible.  Besides, we've been going to church in Muskego...so it really works out.  (For me.)

On this trip, all I had to do was return an Amazon item that Peaches bought and didn't like.  Hubby dropped me at the door because we didn't intend to shop and he didn't care to stand in line with me.

 There was one person in line ahead of me.  SCORE!  I figured this transaction should take me three minutes, tops.

The person ahead of me went to Kathy, one of two women working the returns counter.  Meanwhile, I got Ashely.  As I set my item on the counter the phone rang. Ashley stared at it as if it were a foreign sound to her. (She was younger...it might have been.)  After it ran four or five times (something that does push my rage buttons immediately...answer the phone!)  she picked it up.  She mumbled a bit for a moment then put the phone to her chest and said, "Kathy....Kathy....Kathy...."

Kathy finally looked up and Ashely asked, "Is there a bigger store than this around here?"

The woman behind me said, "There's nothing in Muskego other than this store."

Kathy said, "No there aren't any big box stores in Muskego other than us."

All three of us looked at each other, sharing the one thought, "What a weird question to call about."

Ashley returned to the phone and mumbled some more.  Then she put the phone to her chest again.  "Kathy....Kathy....Kathy...."

Kathy finally looked up again.  Ashley said, "This woman wants to know if there's a bigger Kohls around here.  I'm not from around here, I don't know.  Maybe like Wau keh sha?"

Yeah, Ashley not's from around here.  She didn't pronounce Wau KEE sha correctly.  So why is she answering the phone?

That's when the growing line of women behind me started shouting out locations of other kohls. The first thing we all did was say, "Don't go to Waukesha, those stores are terrible!"

Ashley listened to the cacophony of store locations and then stared at me like a deer in the headlights.

"124th and North Ave in Brookfield," I said with great authority.  That's the biggest store I know.  Also, that's a store that's already got their holiday decorations up even as we speak.  They're like the anchor store for the area.

Ashely, however, not being from around here, mumbles, "Ummmm, so 124th and north Brookfield ave?"

Because that's what I said.

Apparently the woman ( oh yeah, it's a woman, no doubt) on the phone wasn't happy with that answer because she kept Ashley on the phone for another two minutes before Ashely put the phone to her chest and said, "Kathy....Kathy....Kathy.....which Kohls has a bigger shoe selection than we do?"

It was hubby who pointed out, when I related the store to him later, that the caller was probably standing in this store's shoe department at that moment.

Further proof that this was a woman.

"You have the best shoe selection of any of the kohls' I've been in," I tell Ashley because, let's face it, the customer Kathy is trying to help is getting pretty annoyed.

Ashley relays this message and after another two minutes, she hangs up. She thanks me for waiting and then reaches for the Amazon returns scanner. Which apparently is not working....

"Kathy....Kathy...Kathy...."

It took a solid fifteen minutes to return the item. Normally this would have sent me into a hot flash inducing  rant.  But nope, I related the story to Hubby with mirth.

So I ask you...does this mean that the Chang-O has not only changed my feminine punctuation, but also my rage issues?  Will waiting in line be fun now?  I mean....I used to want to punch people and howl.

Now, I don't.

At leas not the last two times.  Let's see what happens the next time I'm at the pharmacy....

No, you can NOT punch Santa...even if he's MAN-SPLAINING.

Good afternoon all!

Two blogs in two days?  What is going on?

My life. The weirdness in my life. I live it, take note of it, and report back to you.  That's how this works.  And this time, this blog has been certified FUNNY by Hubby and Serena (not her real name, but she knows who she is because I told her this story over bad whiskey sours earlier this week.)

So, I was at the grocery store on Monday, the Meijer store in my town.  I like the Meijer store. I used to like Woodman's, and then I found Meijer, which is cleaner, less crowded, and tends to have enough cashiers on to handle the check out duties.  Also, the produce department doesn't smell funny.  

At Meijer they have door greeters. Like Walmart, but less...no, wait. These greeters are just as funky as the ones at Walmart.  There's one woman who sounds like she's on a looped tape:  "Welcome to Meijer...haha...have a great day..haha."  Every ten seconds.

There's the guy who pushes his cane in a shopping cart.  Think about that for a minute.  HE. PUSHES. HIS. CANE. IN. A. SHOPPING. CART.

And then there's Santa Guy. Santa Guy is exactly what he sounds like: A guy working at Meijer who looks like Santa...at least from the neck up.

What?  Santa can't have an off season job?  

Anyway, back to my story.  

So I'm shopping and I find a couple pins that would work for my mom's art.  She does this really cool thing with old jewelry and picture frames.  If I see jewelry on clearance I'll pick pieces up for her.  Such was the case on Monday.  I found two small star pins, about the size of the top of my thumbs.  80 cents each.  I tossed them in with the rest of my groceries and went through the checkout line.

I don't know if I'm alone in this, but I don't spend a lot of time staring at how the cashier is loading my shopping bags. I'm busy typing in my ID number so I can get all the coupons and bonus savings and what not, and then I watch the screen to make sure all that gets to my total.  By the time the bags are in my cart again, I barely have a clear picture of everything I bought.

My cart after grocery shopping. No, not feeding an army...just four people...

In order to leave the store, I have to walk past Greeter Santa Guy. I wave at him and say, "You too!" when he says, "Thanks for Shopping at Meijer."  (Because that's what you do, right Brian Regan?)

As I walk between the two security posts the red lights flash and the beepers go off.  I do that thing where you look around to see who tried to shoplift something...and I realize it's me.

So now Santa Guy is walking closer to me.  I pull my cart back to him, no small task, and I say, "I'm not sure what set off the alarms, but I did buy a couple pins so maybe that?"

Santa guy:  That might do it. They can't remove the security tag on jewelry.

Me: Well here's my receipt (I pull it out of my pocket).

Santa Guy:  (scanning) Yes, I see it. You paid for two pins.

Me:  80 cents each.

Santa Guy: Yes.

Me:  Great. Have a nice day.

Santa Guy:  We have to find those pins.

Me:  What?

Santa Guy:  We have to find the pins, in your groceries.

Me:  I haven't a clue where she put two pins in the ten bags in this cart.

Santa Guy starts digging around in my cart. So I start digging two.  At this point, finally, a SECURITY lady huffs up to us.

Santa Guy:  She set off the alarm, she bought two pins.

Me:  80 cents each.

Security Lady: That'll do it.

AND SHE WALKS AWAY.

Now, I've told him what I got. He knows I paid for them. And the security lady doesn't see to care.  So why am I standing in front of an open door at Meijer on a hot day, digging through all of my groceries, (WHICH INCLUDE SOME FEMININE PUNCTUATION ITEMS) with Santa Guy?

But, dig we must, apparently, so dig we did.  While other shoppers passed us, staring at me like I'm a criminal, Santa Guy and I opened and pawed through every single bag until finally...just under the Feminine Punctuation products (or course) we found the pins.

That should have been the end of it. And had it been, there probably would have been no blog.  But this is where it all goes really sideways in my brain.

(I should note I typically do not think of the way the older generations talk as condescending. Language is an evolving thing...people typically are not when it comes to their habits. If they did evolve, then the phrase "should've went" would be dead. But it's not.)

Anyway, Santa Guy picks up the pins and points out the black security tag on the back of each one.  "That's what set off the alarms," he says.

Now, he's still holding the bag with the items and he's still holding my receipt.

Santa Guy: I want you to watch what I'm doing now.

Me: Okay.  (Waiting for a magic trick or some coupons or something for my trouble)

Santa Guy:  I'm taking the receipt and I'm putting it in this bag with the pins so that you don't have the trouble you just had.

Me:  (Wait, you mean I might get stopped again by you if I walk three feet to my left and try to leave the store in the next ten seconds?  Really?)

Santa Guy:  And now I want you to see what I'm doing.. Are you watching?

Me:  (Starting to chew on the inside of my mouth) Yes...

Santa Guy:  I'm tying the handles of the bag together so the receipt won't blow out of the bag and you won't lose it.

O-M-G  I just got MANSPLAINED BY SANTA.

(Those of you who don't know what Mansplaining is...just Google it.)

I soooooooooo wanted to punch Santa Guy right in the face.  And I'm so not a violent person...not really. Sure, I'm going to probably kill him in an upcoming novel, but that' not violence, it's literature. Or it will be in a 100 years when they teach my novels in college classes.

Instead of punching Santa and getting put on the naughty list, I turned out to make my escape. If course... I set off the alarm again, since NO ONE at Meijer is apparently able to remove the security tags from jewelry.

But hey, Santa Guy smiled at me the way you would smile a cute puppy who has just chewed on your worst enemies' shoe.  And he said, in the tenderest of condescending voices, "You're fine now, you can go along."

Oh, and as for that security tag no one could remove?  While I was telling hubby this story, I held one of the pins in my hand and tugged lightly on the tag to prove it could not be removed. It fell off in my hands.

Happy weekend everyone!

Barnes and Noble is put on Sarah's Naughty List.

Hello Everyone!

I trust all my American readers made it through Thanksgiving and Black Friday just fine? This is "Shop Small Saturday"  which is a movement started by American Express (because they're a small business) for people to get out today and shop small, local stores.

Hubby and I do our "shop small" all year 'round by not eating a chain restaurants.  We look for "local flavor" the smaller the better. Love those locally owned places! And yes, I am a fan of my favorite little local bookstore Martha Merrell's Books for books and gifts of all sorts that are local to Waukesha and to Wisconsin.

When it comes to retail and grocery, I tend to shop a bit larger.  I mean, I lean toward stores that are Wisconsin based, (Kohl's, woodman's) or at the very least are Midwest Based (Meijer, Target). But for hardcore shopping, like the holidays, I reach out to good old Amazon.   

Yes,  I'll admit it, when it comes to buying gifts I tend to look online because I can shop at home in my sweats, I get it brought to my house, and I don't have to stand people lines of people who are annoying me.  (This has nothing to do with retail customer service.  I feel for those folks this time of year because they have to deal with the masses and we, the masses, tend to be rude jerks.)

 But, after my experience yesterday, I might rethink the whole "shop small."

Hubby and I spend Thanksgiving with his mom in the town where hubby grew up.  When he's back "home" he likes to get together with old friends.  So, yesterday morning, we met for coffee (Caribou Coffee, a Midwest based coffee chain.) with friends, and had a lovely time.  Afterwards, I needed to get a walk in and suggested we go to the nearby mall (note: I am 99% done with all holiday shopping and most of the shopping I'm going to do for Peaches' birthday in January.) to walk the mall and see the crowds and maybe see the dying Sears store.

That trip involved us also walking through Barnes and Noble.  

I enjoy Barnes and Noble in the way people enjoy window shopping at stores they can't afford. I tend to buy my books and media second hand, and if I am getting a gift in print, I go to my friends at Martha Merrell's. Hubby loves the store, though, as does his mother, so yes, I have been known to spend some money there.

Yesterday, however, we browsed the media area which, as those of you who shop there know, has its own security. What is purchased in the media area must be paid for in the media area.

Hubby found an album that he very much liked.  He didn't buy it, because, you know, it's Christmas, but he did go to the bathroom at an opportune time.  so I picked up the album and went to the counter and waited for the clerk to come and check me out.

And waited.

And waited.

It's Black Friday and there was no one single clerk in the media area.

I didn't want to just walk out of the area, thereby setting off the alarms and I didn't want to walk away from the album to find someone in case someone else who wanted this album picked it up and I wouldn't be able to find another copy.

But I had my phone. So I looked up the store's number online and called it.

And the phone rang. 

And rang.

And rang.

I could hear it ringing at other places in the store.

I had whipped out my pad and pen and was about to write a sternly worded note that involved an expletive and the words "get it on Amazon" when Hubby, back from the bathroom, tracked down someone who told him the register in the media area was broken and that I should go to a regular cashier.  Hubby suggested they put up a sign saying that.  The person he talked to said, "Yeah....probably," and walked away.  

I should note, the store was not busy.  It looked more like a Tuesday afternoon in there than Black Friday.  And, it should be noted, the mall, including Barnes and Noble WAS NOT open on Thanksgiving Day.  My point being...someone had time to put a magic marker to a piece of paper and write "Cash Register Out of Order go to front of store."

Or, maybe someone could have picked up the phone and answered my question.  It's not like they were busy.

We went to the nearest cashier, a young lass standing completely alone, no line at all, at a register.  She asked if I found everything I needed.  I swallowed all of my sarcastic retorts and said, "Yes, although there's no one in the media area to check anyone out."

"Yeah, the register is broken." She answered in a dreamy, just-woke-up-from-a-nap voice.

Okay, so everyone know this.  

"Maybe someone could up a note?"  I ask in my sweetest tones.

"Yeah...probably...." She handed me my bag and went back to staring into space.

Again...this store was not busy.  They'd not been open on Thanksgiving...and at that point, the store had been open for less than four hours.  The other stores we'd been to were swamped with shoppers and the yet the retail helpers were cheerful, knowledgeable, and super, super on top of stuff.  

So what I'm saying is, yes, Barnes and Noble, you're on the naughty list.

As for the rest of you:  Shop small. And when you're out and about, be nice to the retail people. They have a hard job to do this time of year.  And if you can't be nice to the retail people, just shop on Amazon in your jammies.  

'Tis the season of peace on earth and all and if that means some of us stay in our houses, I think we can all agree, that's just fine.

A Shared Fluffy Girl Moment at Meijer.

Happy Thursday all!

I'm definitely in the minority here, but I'm happy with the stretch of gray, cloudy, wet weather we've had the last couple days. Yes, the damp messes with my arthritis, but we had a couple days of 80 and humid and I am NOT a fan of summer weather.  Nope.  I'm more of a spring/fall person, which means I get about 12 perfect days a year.

Anyway...

So last week I ran to Meijer after work to do my shopping for this week. This is part of one of my resolutions for the year, to make a menu for the week and have everything on hand for that menu so that I stick to it and don't order Marcos Pizza five nights a week.  (You don't have a Marcos attached to a Family Video????  You need to find out whoever is in charge of your town and demand one.)

Anyway, so I ran to Meijer with my week's shopping list.  What I didn't do was eat lunch before going and you know what they say about shopping hungry...that adage is especially true for me. I will throw twice as much stuff in my cart than I originally intended to get because everything just looks sooooo YUMMY and I MUST have it!

On this particular day I was determined, in spite of my craving for all things food, to stick to the list and not break the bank with snack food.  But then...

Meijer was having a sale on sushi!

I do love sushi.  I mean, it's not like I've had a ton of real, actual sushi, but the stuff they sell in the grocery stores is aces with me!  And if it's on sale, that's even better!

I was so hungry, I grabbed two boxes of sushi.  I then spent the next half hour fighting the urge to EAT THE SUSHI right there in the grocery store.  (Have you ever done that?  Eaten something and then brought up the empty container to the cash register?)

No, no, I haven't done either. Nope.

I got through the store, and through the checkout, without breaking into that oh-so-temping plastic container of sticky rice and raw tuna (yep, I love living on the edge) and was headed to the car where I fully intended to eat the first of the two boxes of sushi on my drive home.

That's when I saw her...another fluffy lady coming out of the self check aisle.  Now my rule while out in public is to generally NOT lock eyes with anyone.  If I'm out, especially when I'm out on my own, I'm generally focused on what I'm doing and don't care to get into a conversation with anyone, strangers and friends alike.  (I've actually hidden behind grocery displays to avoid talking to acquaintances before.)  It's not that I'm rude. I'm trying very hard to be NOT RUDE, because I know that any conversation I got into would end with me being rude and walking away.  I like being social...just on my own terms.  And being social at the grocery store when my stomach is growling and I have two boxes of sushi waiting for me is not high on my list.

Anyway, I see this fluffy girl coming out of the self check and I all but stop in my tracks. She is elbow deep into a family size bag of Cheetos, shoving them into her face at a volume and rate that stirs more than a little admiration in my heart.

I don't want to stare, but I've never seen an adult eat snack food, in public, ten seconds after purchasing it, in such an unapologetic manner.  Clearly, she and I share the same 2:30 hunger.

She pauses to breath and notices that I'm staring.  She gives me a sheepish, and very orange, smile and says, "I'm just so hungry, I couldn't wait."

I start laughing. I can't help it. This lady might be my hero.  "I know how you feel, I've got some sushi in here that I fought not to eat in aisle four. I'm tearing into it the minute I get in my car."

She laughs back, and we go our own ways.

It was a tiny, simple moment, but one that I won't soon forget because it made me realize two things:  1)  I'm not the only one who can't always stave off the urge to eat

and

2)  There's just something about a fluffy girl elbow deep in a bag of snack food that makes me smile.

I felt less alone in the universe, I guess.

Hey, so if you have an "eating in the grocery store" story, I'd love to hear it!  Share it in the comments!

The difference between a Meijer employee and a heart attack? Not much.

Good afternoon everyone and Happy Holidays!

When I was little I lived in Michigan, home to a wonderful store called Meijer's Thrifty Acres.  I loved going to that store back in the pre-Walmart-big-box-everything-all-the-time days of shopping.  My parents would take us there to wander acres and acres (So it seemed to me in my seven year old brain) of food, clothing, and house goods.  That store was so wonderful, they even had a play area in the very center of the store where kids could romp while their parents shopped. Of course, my parents never actually let us play in there, but you know, it was nice to walk by and see other kids having fun.

Flash forward more than 40 years and Meijer is spreading out all over, even to the wilderness of Wisconsin!  

I'll admit, as much as I love Woodman's for my groceries, Meijer is way less cramped, it's cleaner, the produce is better, and, while the selection isn't as broad or as funky, I do know if I go there and remember that I need socks or motor oil, I'm going to find it.  

(Unfortunately, there's no play area.)

Anyway around here it's almost Christmas which means the stores have ramped up the volume to way beyond 11.  I, of course, have done about 80% of my holiday shopping online, much like everyone else, but there are some things you just can't buy online.  Like hard liquor.

So a couple Saturdays ago, Hubby and I went to our local Meijer to pick up the week's groceries and a couple really cute candy canes stuffed with tiny bottles of vodka.  (Normally they have candy in them...but this was vodka and it was cute and I was getting it for the adult kids, and DON'T JUDGE ME!)

Our first stop, once inside the magical place that is Meijer, was the meat department.  All I wanted was a small pack of skinless, boneless, chicken thighs.  They sell skinless, boneless breasts all day long, in all sizes of packages and all cuts of chicken breast.  (Tenders?  Whole breast?  Loin?  Nuggets?  Stir fry?)  BUT, what about those of us who don't LIKE white meat? 

Nope, no, you must buy the family pack of chicken thighs. Find room in your freezer for 20 pounds because that's the smallest package you're getting!

I gave up the search, remembering that I probably had some thighs buried in my freezer from the last time I bought them.  Hubby, on the other hand, either didn't realize I had given up or he was so focused on winning the prize for me he didn't notice me wander off to look at bakery items.  (Sooooo yummy...)

Anyway, as I walked away I noticed a short, slight fellow in a white lab coat walking up to hubby. Well, "Up to" isn't quite the right word, since Hubby was face first in a meat cooler and this guy was walking up on Hubby's blind side.

The next thing I heard was Hubby's startled exclamation as Lab Coat Guy turned out to actually be Meat Department Guy, and, while attempting to be helpful, he basically scared Hubby out a year of his life.

That's sort of funny.  No, wait, it's hilarious!  See, normally I'm the one who startles at stuff.  It took me a while to get used to having Peaches back in the house and she's so quiet compared to the guys, that every time she came up the steps or around a corner she startled me.  It's become a joke...in fact, NOW she tries to find ways to scare me in my own house. And the guys laugh and laugh.

So yeah, I laughed a little at the fact that little Lab Coat Meat Guy startled Hubby.

But as as you know, if this is where the story ended, there would not be a blog.

Nope, the last thing on my list was the vodka candy cane.    Now the liquor department at Meijer is a little different. It's not a separate store, like many grocery places have.  It's a separate section, but no doors that close.  You walk through an arch and you're in. The rule is, you can pay for wine and beer anywhere in the store, but spirits must be payed for between the arches of the liquor department.

So I head over the the arch and I'm around two steps from entering the magical kingdom of booze when a short, elfish looking dude jumps out of nowhere and yells "CAN I HELP YOU FIND SOMETHING?"

I'm not exaggerating here.  Hubby was three rows away in another department and he heard the guy yelling and knew he was yelling at me and knew I was FREAKING OUT.

Here's what's really funny.  As I was regaining my wits I noted that in order to leap around a corner as he did, Liquor ELF  had to have pushed a man in a motorized scooter OUT OF THE WAY.  

That's right.  In order to give me a heart attack, Liquor ELF had to displace a disabled shopped.

AND THEN, Liquor ELF followed me up and down the rows of bottles as if I were going to stick something in my purse and run away.  I stopped at the rack of vodka candy canes...and that's when he yelled again (and scared me...again)

"YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THOSE HERE!"

I don't like being stalked when I'm shopping. I don't like being shouted at. I don't like being told the rules that I already know when I haven't even done anything but touch something on a rack.

Oh, and I really don't like going into heart failure twice in five minutes.

So no, I did NOT buy the vodka candy canes. Sorry kids.

Five for Friday: Young 'uns Just Don't Understand.

Good morning!

So something that's made the rounds on my Face Books feed this week was a picture asking that we note something from our childhood that someone younger might not understand.  Then answers ranged from technology to social differences between my generation and my childrens', and I got to thinking about how much is really, really different.  I decided to avoid the obvious for this week's list, which makes the list not only more challenging, but I think funnier. Bear in mind, I'm covering my experiences from about 1977-1985, (My junior high and high school years) so here we go.

5) My mother had to plan dinner before she even got out of bed in the morning.

One of my most vivid childhood/teen memories was waking up in the morning and hearing my mother say, "What am I going to make for dinner tonight?"  She often wouldn't get our of bed until she'd run through everything we had in the house and decided on what we were going to eat some twelve hours later.

Why?

Well, not only did she not have a microwave (so anything she had in the freezer had to be set out to thaw) there was also a wild lack of food delivery places.  I was late in my high school career before Domino's changed the restaurant landscape by providing pizza delivery to the masses in fly over land. Getting something delivered simply wasn't an option.  Very few restaurants had take out (again, this is in the Upper Midwest. I'm sure the cool people on either coast had all of this) and even if it had been available, eating dinners not made at home by mom (or someone else in the family) was just not a common thing in my growing up world.  Moms were stepping into the work force in bigger numbers, but someone still got home in time to whip something together for dinner.

We had fast food places, like Mc Donald's, but those were places where kids met after a school event, not a place to pick up family meals, not on a regular basis.  In fact, the town I lived in from 1977 -1982 didn't even HAVE a McDonald's or a national chain restaurant of any kind!  (A shocking realization my mother came to the day we moved in and she sent Dad and me out to get some burgers. Took us a full hour to find the one place in town that made fast food...and wasn't a bar.)

4)  Night time was a lot darker...and quieter.

I realized a few weeks ago when the power went out and my kids and their friends were trying to get dressed and pack, suitcases in my basement, that there is no such thing as darkness anymore.  I mean, sure, if you want to go camping (ummmm, no thanks..that involves being outside) you can probably still get some semblance of dark, but that's assuming you aren't packing a cell phone, laptop, iPod, iPad, or some other electronic thing that not only gives off light, but hums as well. (And if you're camping, it's a good idea to have at least one of those things with you. Remember the guy who had to cut off his arm because he was trapped without a cell phone?  You don't want to lose an arm do you?

This should have been called, "Take THAT
Nature Guy!"

 Back when I was young, the only thing that hummed at night was the fridge.  For those of us with a digital alarm clock, there was a small source of light in our rooms after dark, but very few people had TVs in their bedrooms and no one had a phone screen or computer screen that went to a screen saver at night, but still glowed and hummed.  My house is not what you'd call a hub of technology, not compared to many, but upstairs we have two computers (of the three) that rarely are fully shut down at night, plus it's a safe bet that there's a TV on in either the living room or our bedroom.  And of course, who turns their phones all the way off?  Move to the basement and the kids, with their computers and phones and video game systems are never fully in the dark.  Even Skippy's windowless basement room isn't completely in the dark ever.  And, hand in hand with that, nothing is ever completely silent.

3) It was a "Service station."

Remember when gas stations sold gas...and maybe gum..but you could talk to a mechanic and get your car fixed if you needed to?  Remember when you were more likely to to buy engine oil and not olive oil at a gas station?  Now it's all about convenience stores...mini grocery stores that sell anything from chips and candy to dairy products, fresh produce and...yes, here in Wisconsin anyway, beer and WINE.  Wine from the gas station.  (Which goes nicely with the rib eye steaks I buy there.)  The people who work at gas stations today are all about retail and not about mechanics.  They can tell you all the details about the 750 different kinds of scratch off tickets they sell, but they aren't going to change your oil. They can make the donuts (not kidding, I actually worked at a gas station convenience store and my job was to make the donuts) but they aren't going to fill your tank.  (Remember full service gas stations?)  Most young people these days would run in horror from the gas stations of my youth, the places where the bathrooms were cleaned...oh who am I kidding, they were never cleaned...and if they sold soda (pop) you had one choice:  Coke or Pepsi.  And it came in bottles that you got from a machine outside the gas station.  You want hot food?  Go to McDonald's.  

2) We only had orange carrots and we survived.

One of the biggest things I've noticed that's different from my childhood to my children's is that cooking shows are now the mainstream.  Cooking competition shows seem to be more popular with younger kids than cartoons. I don't blame them. I never really liked cartoons and these days I really don't like them at all.  Well, except for "Bob's Burgers" and "The Simpsons," and, if I'm being honest, "Family Guy"...but THAT'S IT!

Cooking shows, thanks to the Food Network and Cooking network, have brought an entire universe of cooking options into everyone's homes. Now kids raised on cooking shows are competing on cooking shows and doing things like butterflying a pork chop or braising rabbit.  When I grew up, unless you lived on a farm that raised sheep, you ate three kinds of meat:  Beef, chicken, and pork. Turkey was purely for Thanksgiving.  If you were a hunter, you got venison and goose, but only in the fall.  No stores just sold goose. or duck...or seventeen kinds of shell fish.  Lobsters were RIGHT OUT!  (We were vaguely aware, here in Middle America, that people ate lobsters, but that was something people in far away, exotic place ate.)  Now, not only do we watch people cooking all kinds of fun proteins, we watch people catch-raise-hunt-fish for exotic proteins.  ("Deadliest Catch" anyone?) 

Yes, you're in fourth grade. Now...braise those golden beets in
duck fat and be quick about it!

How on earth did I survive all these years and NOT know what happens to meat when you sous vide it?  I grew up in a terribly poor childhood, one where I never saw a perfectly seared scallop or a black chicken coq au vine.  

We had orange carrots, and we were satisfied with that. But now...now it's rainbow carrots, white carrots...we can't just have ORANGE CARROTS!  We must have four kinds of beets, all of them different colors.  (and all of them tasting gross in my opinion.)  We must not just have eggplant, we must have cooking shows where 9 year olds are cooking six different kinds of egg plant and if they don't get it right they are CHOPPED.  (Honestly when I was a kid, eggplant was the thing everyone grew in their garden, but no one ate and they'd dump truck loads of it on our front porch in the dark of night.  You know, because the Lutheran School principal wasn't actually paid in money, he got paid in eggplants and zucchini.)


1)  Plan ahead...nothing is going to be open.

My parents had to plan ahead before weekends so they'd have enough cash in case they had to buy groceries or something.  Why?

No ATMS. Banks weren't open.  And they didn't do credit cards at the stores.

My parents also had to plan ahead for holiday meals, because...well...no one was open on Christmas. and by no one, I mean NO ONE.  No fast food places were open on Christmas.  No gas stations sold food.  ( I remember driving from Detroit to Milwaukee on Thanksgiving Day in 1989 thinking I'd hit up a McDonald's or something on the way. Nope, I wound up celebrating with a candy bar from the gas station in Paw Paw, Michigan because they were the only ones open (and he was in the process of closing up shop when I pulled in) and that's all they sold was candy.  I went back recently and it's a mini mart selling fresh produce and hot food. and it's open 24 hours.

But the younger folks now have no concept of worrying about 'what's open" because EVERYTHING IS OPEN and everything has an ATM machine.  3 AM Christmas morning and you need gifts and food for dinner?  No worries...Walmart, Woodmans and Meijer are open (along with countless other regional places).  Need cash at noon on Thanksgiving Day?  Just drive up to any bank, gas station, grocery store and and you have cash in hand.  

Now granted, there are still many places that aren't open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  Skippy,

Now we don't have to wait until Monday to buy
that machete.

who walked in while I was working on this point, debated with me that he could get everything he wanted no matter the time of day or the day of the week.  Sure, his favorite record store isn't open at 3 AM (and yes, he loves playing music on vinyl.) BUT if he needs food, clothing, soda, basic auto repair items, toys, housewares, health and beauty items, or a MACHETE (which he got late one night at Walmart) he can go out into the darkness and get it.

I wonder what my mother would have done with that kind of access to everything?