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'.

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.

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?

Woodman's and my favorite episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Can you see all the similarities?

Good morning!

It isn't often that I write a Tuesday blog, mostly because Tuesdays are not historically good for me and I try to stay out of the way of pretty much everything that could hurt me:  pointy things, cars, computers, socks...

Anyway, yesterday something happened and I have to rant about it because even now, the next day, I'm still furious.  But here's the "Todd and Tom" warning:  This is going to deal with certain female issues and if you're going to be offended by that...or if you're going to just say, "Oh it's because she's PMS-ing" then stop reading now and never speak to me again.

Okay, let's begin.

I like grocery shopping.  I especially enjoy it at Woodman's where the aisles are wide and the selection is always surprising.  The produce is not great...I go to Sam's Club or Brennan's for that most of the time, but otherwise, Woodman's is a great grocery store where I can find everything I need at a good price.

Until yesterday.

The last several weeks I've been retaining a bit of water weight.  How else would you explain four to five workouts a week, walking 12000 steps a day, drinking 64 plus ounces of water, and still gaining 7 pounds in the last two weeks?  Water weight. So I decided that yesterday while at the grocery store, I'd get some water pills along with other female punctuation items.

I should also mention that my right hip has been giving me grief, partially due to the increased difficulty I set for myself in weight training and treadmill work. I find if I walk on solid ground for an extended period of time, I get a pretty severe pain in my upper back hip and along the side of my thigh.  But no worries yesterday...I was just going grocery shopping for a few things.

Right.  We wouldn't be here if I found everything and went home with no pain and all was well.

I filled my cart with the food items I needed except for the produce, (I needed small green onions for a recipe), and I headed over to health and beauty to find my water pills and other female punctuation items.

Water pills are typically found with other diet pills and diet foods, so that's where I started. Here's what I found:

4 different kinds of protein "MUSCLE MILK" powder.
Slim quick for men.  (Wasn't this supposed to be the breakthrough diet thing for women?)
80 square feet of protein bars with male hikers on the wrapper.

No water pills.

Okay, I thought, no worry. I'll just go over to "Feminine Care" and they'll be there. That makes sense, after all, to put all the feminine items in the feminine care aisle.

Ya know what's in the Feminine Care aisle at Woodmans?  Adult diapers for men.  Also, condoms and pleasure gels "FOR HIM."  Ya know what's not there?  WATER PILLS!

Well there's one more place they "could be."  They could be with the Midol, Pamparin and other female punctuation symptom relievers in the pain relief aisle.  I mean, it's a stretch, but it's not unheard of.  So, my hip starting to pound because now I've been hiking through Woodman's expanses for forty minutes, I head to the pain relief aisle. 

Know what's there?  

Six kinds of pills expressly for migraine sufferers, fourteen kinds of PM pain relievers, three different brands of pills for urinary pain and FOUR.....count then FOUR kinds of pain pills for restless leg syndrome.  

Know what's NOT THERE?  

No Pamparin. No Midol. NO WATER PILLS!

Not a one.  None. No female punctuation fain relievers AT ALL.

Well, this can't be, I tell myself. So, my hip and lower back now on fire because I'm dragging a full grocery cart around the store, and my skin is on fire because I'm in the middle of an allergy issue and if I sweat it makes the itching and burning worse, I retrace my steps.  Diet aisle:  No, nothing.

Feminine care aisle: Nothing.

Pain reliever:  nothing.

I look at the big Woodman's clock and realize I've been on this quest for more than an hour at this point. I've put on 2500 steps in the store (good) and I'm limping to the point where people are starting to stare. (Not so good.)  I'm also, I think, talking out loud, hence more staring, because...yes...I could do with a good dose of the punctuation symptom reliever and the rage is building.

I should mention, I don't PMS like most women. I have that high powered "I'm going to kill someone if I don't get chocolate and an episode of 'Grey's Anatomy' RIGHT NOW" PMS.  And I never seem to remember that I get it because it's a surprise when it hits.  Like when I'm standing in the pain reliever aisle at Woodman's muttering "You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!  WHAT KIND OF SEXIST OPERATION IS THIS PLACE?"

Okay, maybe I wasn't muttering. Maybe I was talking out loud...maybe I was talking a little louder than just 'out loud.'

I did a third lap around the football field that is the health and beauty department in Woodman's and came up with nothing.   At this point I was sweating, my skin was burning, my hip and thigh were crippled, and I was full on into PMS rage.  I approach the checkout, which thankfully isn't loaded with other customers, and I have a little bit of an out of body experience.  Here's how it goes:

"Hi, did you find everything okay?"  This is the chirpy check out girl.

"No, I did not."  This is me.

"Oh what didn't you find?"

"I didn't find any water pills, Midol or Pamparin."

This is where the clerk's eyes would glaze over and he, because it's a he I'm waiting for in line, would assume it's all because I'm a woman...and I have PMS.  And that's why I'm in a rage.

No, I think, returning to my body after these thoughts, I'm in a rage because what I'm looking for are basic things that should be in a grocery store.  

And then I was reminded of my favorite "Everybody Loves Raymond" episode. (Go ahead, watch the clip.)  I realized that no matter how I explained to the clerk, he'd just look at me like I'd lost my mind, I was a nutty female.  If I told him what I couldn't find, he'd go back to the break room and say, "Oh wow, you would NOT believe the woman who came through my line today. Couldn't find water pills and midol and lost her mind!"

Because...as Debra points out to Ray...there's nothing in this store for BITCHY.

So I bit my lip. I didn't wig out on the clerk, because I'm sure he's a nice guy.  I should also point out that Woodman's clerks aren't chirpy. They're too busy for that nonsense.  I got through the line I got home and I slumped in a chair watching "House MD" on Netflix because I've seen all the 'Grey's Anatomy' and everyone on House is way sicker than I could ever feel, which made me feel a bit better.

Oh, and you know where there is plenty of stuff for bitchy?  Walgreens.  Yeah, two brands of water pills. Almost sold out  (they are now!) but they're there.

Let's keep the CRABBY out of Christmas and see what happens.

Good morning!

I know, I've been away a while. I'm not saying nothing funny happened while I was not blogging. I'm saying after I released  "Missing in Manitowoc"  I spent some quality time on my couch binge watching "Scrubs."  

I'm back now and I have to say, I've noticed a few things, now that we're in December and it's a holiday season for pretty much everyone...

We are a crabby bunch.

I don't know how it is in other countries, but here in the US it really seems like the minute they start playing, "It's the most Wonderful Time of the Year" on the radio, we all get crabby and by the time we get to the month of December, getting in your car and going someplace feels a lot like being a participant in "The Hunger Games."

Case in point:  Earlier this week I ran to Woodman's, our fantastic grocery store, to pick up a few things.  I tend to go right after work, at about 1 in the afternoon, because it's a little less crowded and as you all know I don't do well in lines at stores.  I picked up my few things, along with one of those bags of food they sell for $6 to help the hungry. Seriously, let me through down this challenge:  It's $6.  I challenge everyone who shops at a Woodman's  (That would be a lot of people in Wisconsin anyway) to pick up one of those bags every time you go to the store.  It's $6.  You're going to spend that much on wine and beer and you no you are...don't deny it...it's the holidays and we all drink our body weight in wine and beer and vodka slush just to get through the endless stream of parties and family gatherings.  So everyone who shops at Woodman's, every time you go in, pick up one of those bags and do something nice for another family this season.  And if you don't live in Wisconsin then I challenge you to add $6 worth of non perishable items to your cart every time you go to the store and put that in the bins they have there for your local food pantry.  They have them there.  Do it!  And while you're at it, those bell ringers?  Give them a buck. Every time.  So that's $7.  Not even the price of a movie ticket.  Pretty much the price of a venti Starbucks anything.  You don't blink twice at those purchases...do this.  For the poor, for the needy, and for your own peace of mind this holiday season. You have no idea how great it makes you feel to put food in the bin or toss a buck in that red bucket.

Where was I?

Oh, right, so I'm at Woodman's, and I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy because I bought a meal for the needy and put a buck in the bucket. That's when I decided to do something nice for my husband, who was on vacation this week, but had to tie up a few loose ends on Tuesday so he spent the morning at his desk.  I was going to pick up lunch for us both at Culvers. I was craving a cranberry bacon blue salad and he wanted a chicken sandwich.  Since Culvers shares a parking lot with Woodman's this was a no brainer.

This is the part of the story that gets complicated, so stay with me.  

I pull forward out of my spot, (I always park in a way so that I don't have to back up) and I start driving. The parking lot is loaded with stop signs.I stop for the first one, then make a left. I stop for the second one, which is a four way stop. I wait  my turn, and I go, except the person to the left of me thought it was his turn and nearly hit me.  To be honest, the guy to the left of me barely slowed down for the stop sign and apparently didn't see me making my turn as he was in the process of blazing through the intersection.  his response?  he honked at me and flipped me the one finger salute.

Okay, well, maybe he missed the sign and thought he had the right of way...no problem...no one got hurt.

The I come to another stop sign, another four way stop. I wait my turn. In fact, I'm halfway into the intersection when a woman in a mini van flies up to the stop sign and looks like she was just going to whip around the corner when she saw me at the last minute and had to slam on the breaks.  As I drive past her, I can read her lips.  If I repeated what she was saying my mother would come over here and wash my mouth out with soap.  

So now I'm in front of Miss Mouth and it's very clear we are both headed to Culvers.  It's also very clear to me that her mission, her one goal in life, is to get there before me. She's weaving around behind me, trying to figure out a way to get around me.  This is all happening in a the span of about 150 yards.  We get to the Culvers, and there are two entries to the lot.  I signal to turn right into the first entry, but at the last moment I have to not make the turn because a supply truck barrels forward, taking up the entire entry.  While I was signalling my right turn, Ms. Mouth was swerving left to get around me and get into the next entry, but when I didn't turn she nearly rammed into my drivers side.  And there are more readable comments.

I drive another 15 feet to the next entry and turn in. Ms. Mouth does as well, only she then makes a hard right to get around the parked cars on the far side and get into the drive through lane. I make a left to follow the arrows to the drive through, but in doing so I must drive in the lane between parked cars.  And that's when car #3 decides to back out, very nearly into me.  I'm moving at about 4 miles per hour at this point because I've almost been hit three times by two cars, and this guy backs out of his space Steve McQueen style. I hit the brakes inches from him and I wait.

I can't back up because there's someone behind me.  I can't go forward because McQueen Wannabe is at an angle in front of me.  So I wait.  McQueen Wannabe is looking at me, cussing so hard the air in his vehicle is actually turning blue.  I smile and say, "Try using your mirrors next time. Oh, and I can't move so you're going to have to straighten out and drive slowly like a normal human person."

It takes some moments for him to figure out how to undo what he's done.  Meanwhile. the person behind me is honking and the woman in the minivan has driven by me, with a triumphant one finger salute in my direction.

Geez, all I wanted was a salad.

By the time I get my salad and hubby's lunch I'm crabby and exhausted and I have to lie down.

So my point is this:  how about we try a little patience and tenderness this holiday season?  It doesn't matter what religion you

are, what skin color you have, what age you are, what your medical status is, none of  that matters.  Take things slowly. help someone you don't know with something, no matter how small.  Shovel your neighbor's front walk, not because you know they're going to wait until fifty people have crushed the snow and then they'll just dump a pile of salt on it and it'll make the whole block look terrible, but because it's a nice thing to do, you're out there, and what, it's going to take you an extra five minutes.  Buy food for the food pantry. Donate a new toy to a toy drive.  And maybe, when you're in a parking lot, chill out.  Culvers isn't going to run out of anything...and it's unlikely that if you get someplace 15 seconds before I do that your life is going to be measurably better.

And maybe let's stop looking for reasons to be upset. Starbucks red cups?  Really?  This is how we're going to celebrate the high point of the religious and secular year?  By getting all up in arms about a red cup, and by getting up in arms about people who are upset by a red cup?  How about if, instead, we buy a beverage in one of those red cups for the guy behind us in the drive through and see how that feels? There are real problems in this world people.  Red cups are not one of them.  Maybe I can't change the planet with my little blog here, but I tell you what I do sometimes to make someone else's day, and it makes my day brighter, too.

Peace on earth, my friends, goodwill and less finger flipping to all.