April First (already!)

I'm not in the mood to create a fine-tuned joke for y'all today 'cos I have to go to the da . . . dern store again today. Why? Theres.no.bread!!!!! Apparently, all three of my kids are eating the wheat bread now. Okay, I'm seriously happy about that. Squirrel Boy took to it straight away when I introduced it last year and yukked it up as healthier than white (which it is). Teenie and Crickles jumped on board with the loaf I just bought. So, I'm glad about it, but now I have to go and get bread, which means I'll pick up some other items we need so as to avoid going back before Friday morning (the planned date to grocery shop).

Anyone familiar with military commissaries will know exactly why I dislike them. The savings are hard to beat, yes, but aside from that, it's not a fun place for me to shop. Why? I'm flatly becoming one myself, but I'm going to put this out there (as lacking in charity as it may seem): the retirees. One day I, too, will be a "retiree", but I will.not.shop.at.the.commissary, even if there is one a block away. Most of them are ambling through the store at the rate of half an aisle an hour and block the way for those of us who want to steamroll through the joint. Of course, this may be the highlight of their day, but I have to seriously doubt that! I know seniors do more than "enjoy" the supermarket. At least, I hope so! I know they aren't in a hurry as they have learned what I need to learn: slow down, girlfriend. Then, there are those who come to "stock up". They have four trolleys between two people with one or two carts packed with all the meat deals. I usually spy pigs feet in there, too, which is totally disgusting!! I mean, they must like them then, because with all the money they are saving on the meat deals, they don't have to buy those! The commissary on pay day (which is today) is a living nightmare unless you get there early (which means, I need to shower and dress and be there in an hour - even to get my paltry list of under twenty) if you want a trolley and want to get in and out as fast as possible to avoid the lines. Yes, the lines. And, even that is not as bad as dealing with the baggers. I appreciate the baggers bagging my stuff, I really do, but: I'm sending the stuff down the conveyor belt in a methodical manner: pack my stuff together. Okay? And, if I am sending thirty cans of food down the belt, I don't want all thirty in one bag, got that? I swear to the Almighty, I haven't that kind of upper body strength! Nor do my children, who help me unload the van when I'm done.

One of the other problems I have about going in there is running into folks. I usually have to have near four to five solid conversation stops along the way. Folks I know, folks I don't know. I have this problem of letting people talk to me and then I start talking . . . I really need to perfect the "I'm not a therapist" syndrome and politely smile and move along.

So, today I am going only to get under twenty. I'd like to get all of it on my list and get it over with so I don't have to go back Friday, but the above just makes me want to bury my head in the sand. Okay, so maybe it isn't all that bad. Of course, it isn't! I just like to complain about it!

Happy April 1st to you all!