I have had so many friends ask me to start blogging again and I do miss it but have so little time. I decided I will try. As busy as I am, I need a place to empty my brain. So, to start Im going to repost my 10 favorite posts from the old blog to save them from deletion.

Not in any particular order…

Target

I love shopping at Target. I want to get that out of the way first. Its probably my favorite place to shop, but lately its been making me more than a little grumpy. It started slowly, with one or two people who worked there asking me if I needed help finding anything. Then it turned in to the monster it has become.

I like to imagine all the perky Target “associates” in their bright red shirts sitting in a staff meeting being told that they now have a helper quota. They each must ask at least a zillion shoppers if they need help- every day they are working.

Our target is pretty busy but they dont get a zillion shoppers a day so that means some of the associates must ask people more than once. This irritates me. At first I would make sure to not make eye contact so they wouldn’t ask me. Then I began counting the asks, just to make sure I wasn’t turning in to a grouchy old lady who should wear funny hats and knee socks with her skirts. When the ask count reached 26 one day, I had enough.

Maybe I am a grouchy old lady but I found myself avoiding anyone in a red shirt and if I saw one coming, Id turn my cart quickly and go the other direction. My point isnt that its wrong for them to ask. Its that they dont have to do it so often. Were the act to require nothing other than them speaking, Id be fine with it. But politeness requires ME to respond somehow, even if its just with an irritable nod. When your policy drags me kicking and screaming into it, that’s where I draw the line, and I reached that line this week.

Tuesday, April 13: Ran in for three items. Celery, eggs and milk. Times I was asked if I needed help finding something: 26

Thursday, April 15: Cart with 12+ items. Times I was asked if I needed help finding something: 24.

This was my breaking point and I realized that if I didn’t do something, Id go insane and that would certainly limit my shopping abilities. I pushed my cart over to the spice aisle and began “searching” visibly for an item. It only took about 6 seconds for two Red Shirts to approach me together. Ill call them Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. They said almost in unison: May we help you find something? I smiled (reeling them in like a spider).

“Why yes, you can I hope! Im looking for Fleegle powder, or Fleegle salt if you dont have the powder.” They looked at each other solemnly and then began in earnest to scour the spice shelves. One stood up and said, “How do you spell it? With an F?”
I nodded. Then the female Red shirt said helpfully, “Our spices are in alphabetical order so it should be easy to find. Unless of course someone placed it in the “P” section instead of F.”
My brain churned to process this but I could hear the cogs and springs grinding in my head as I tried to work that one out. Perhaps she thought that Fleegle was spelled with a PH? I had to stop pondering this before I melted down and smoke poured out my ears.

This is when they decided to call in the big guns using their little walkie talkies. Less than 3 minutes later, said big gun appears. He is introduced to me as “THE SENIOR ZONE MANAGER….” (and youmust say that in a deep booming voice please…).
He shook my hand and informed me that he was indeed the SENIOR ZONE MANAGER, in charge of aisles 4-7 and sometimes the aisles that carry all the paper products. I nodded respectfully, realizing we were in the presence of someone who could surely help.

The young lady told him we were seeking Fleegle powder and the guy next to her added in a soft voice, “Or Fleegle salt.. if we dont have the powder.” THE SENIOR ZONE MANAGER stood stroking his chin thoughtfully while the associates watched him for some sort of epiphany. This is where I thought I had likely been discovered as a fraud and the gig would be up. After a moment or two of stroking, the SENIOR ZONE MANAGER said, “Have you ever purchased Fleegle product here before?”

The Tweedles heads bounced from Zone Man to me, back and forth like ping pong balls. I said calmly, “Of course I have.. dozens of times, and its always right here next to the Fennel seeds.” He nodded sagely again. By this time we had drawn the attention of two more Red Shirts and a small crowd had formed.

I decided I hadn’t been discovered after all and volunteered: “Price Chopper down the street carries it in raw form in their produce section as well as in the spice aisle.”
The very mention of their competitor caused the Red Shirts to begin shifting uneasily in their khakis and fiddling with their plastic name tags.
The SENIOR ZONE MANAGER said, “Have you checked our produce section?” and all the associates looked at him as if he had just delivered the Gettysburg address. (I must point out that I almost lost it here and stifled a serious, hard core giggle) I responded back, “I’ve checked and you dont have it.”

Now we were clearly in serious times, and serious times call for serious measures. Zone man got on his walkie and called for someone. While we waited, several associates again began to industriously scan the shelves for Fleegle.

The entity that appeared next was close to a Pope as I will ever come. He was introduced as “Acting District Manager, in Charge of Condiments and Spices (The ADMCCS)”  and I fully expected the associates to kneel or at least bow.

While the SENIOR ZONE MANAGER carefully explained in detail our conundrum, including the part about Price Chopper carrying several types of Fleegle, I stood patiently. After a few moments, The Target Pope spoke quietly, “I have never heard of Fleegle…” and I knew I was busted.

Then he continued on, “But.. that does not mean it doesn’t exist, or that we dont carry it.”
I swear to you, at least three associates nodded perkily at that last bit.

“Here is what we will do.” The “Zone Team” gathered around as if in the final huddle of the Super Bowl and he gave instructions. “You two, go to the ethnic aisle.. search there. You, check the produce rosters. You, see if the deli (???) might have it. And you, (pointing to the SENIOR ZONE MANAGER), go to the back and check all of our shipment logs this week to see if we simply forgot to put it out.”

There were ahhhhs and nods all around and they scampered off to be of service. The Acting District Manager in Charge of Condiments and Spices (ADMCCS) informed me that he would go up to the office and review his purchasing requisitions to see if they had it and if not, he promised they would most definitely procure some and I could expect it no later than next Thursday.

Well, I should EXPECT so, thank you very much.

I do so love a store that gives good service!

Of course later, when the entire crew realized I was making the entire thing up, I was escorted out of the store. How is THAT a nice way to treat a customer??

Saturday, April 17th: Cart with 12 items. Number of times Red Shirts asked me if I needed any help finding things: 0.

Bella sleeps soundly…only an occasional chirp or puppy bark as if she’s chasing some fearsome catch. Oh if I could only sleep that well!

Late last night I had a flash of a memory from my childhood. When I was 9 or 10 I heard my  Mom and Dad talking in the dark after I had gone to bed. My Mom said she was worried because things were all going by too fast. It scared me even though I didn’t understand what that meant.

When we are young, time moves slowly and we wish for speed.

It is only later, when we are older and desperate for the time that it goes blazing past us and out of our grasp.

It was just yesterday that we were bundled in our coats, tramping through the snow.

Then one morning there were strawberries in the market and the next, it was too hot to sit in my garden.

I now know what my Mom meant. And it still scares me.