How to make them stop sending you to the store for stuff

Went to Sam's Club the other day. Bought like 3000 straws and other way-too-big volumes of things.

Of course, the 3000-count box of straws was the smallest they had. Unlike, say, Wal-mart, where you can get a bag of 50 or 100. So, we got as much as we got because it's the smallest it came.

Not so for this guy in line ahead of us.

He had milk, cigarettes, Cokes, and bottled water.

Now, I'm sure that's for some business he's running. Or something.

But, I'd like to imagine it's someone who does things just a little bit different. I'd like to think it went like this:

She: Why don't you get your lazy butt off the couch and go pick me up some cigarettes.

He: Yes, dear.

She: And get some milk. Somebody drank the last of it and put the empty milk jug back in the 'fridge. And I bet that someone was you.

He: Milk. Yes, dear.

She: And I want some bottled water. And don't be spending a lot of money by getting that expensive Dasani or that Aquafina. Deer Park is fine.

He: Water. Yes, dear.

She: Oh, and Mother is coming over for supper. She likes Coca-Cola. Don't get any Shasta or some brand like that. And don't you dare get Pepsi. Mother wants Coke. Okay?

He: Cigarettes, milk, water, Coke. Yes, dear. Anything else?

She: Don't waste any money on lottery tickets. It's not up to $100 million yet. Don't waste a dollar, you hear me.

He: Yes, dear. I'll be back shortly.

I'd like to imagine he decided he'd not have to be sent to the store again the next day, so he got enough to make sure.

I'm certain that's not how it happened. But it would have been so awesome if it was.

TV trays

When I bought my first laptop computer -- a Gateway -- several years ago, I quickly abandoned using a desktop.

Oh, I kept a desktop set up for a little while. Then, I realized that I never used it. Because I really liked the laptop and used it exclusively.

Replaced the Gateway with a Dell a few years later. And a couple of years back, replaced the Dell with a MacBook.

It didn't take me long to move the laptop from the desk -- where the desktop used to be -- to its new home on a TV tray. A wooden TV tray, with folding legs.

The TV tray finally gave out this weekend. Probably because I was a little rougher on it than I should have been: frustrated because of the problems with Internet connectivity we've had lately.

Anyway, the TV tray finally gave out. Or at least, a nail gave and the lip on the side came off. Plus the legs kept giving out.

So, when I got off work this afternoon, I decided to get a new TV tray.

I knew this day was coming, and I had previously looked at K-Mart for one, since K-Mart is not as far out of the way as, say, Wal-mart. But, K-Mart didn't have what I wanted. So, tonight, I went to Wal-mart.

I looked all over for TV trays. I checked the furniture section, the TV section (maybe they considered it a TV accessory, you know?), and thought about, but didn't, check the frozen dinner section. I tweeted that I looked there, but that was just a joke.

Turns out, Wal-mart -- at least the one I stopped by -- didn't have any TV dinner trays. Not that I could find, anyway.

However, they did have something else: a Folding Laptop Table.

Imagine that! They didn't have a TV tray; they had what I wanted to use the TV tray for.

It's plastic -- a hard, molded plastic thing that has a built-in mouse pad and really sturdy legs. It ought to be able to stand up to my handling.

And it needs to. AT&T service has gone down twice during my writing this post.

We shall not speak of this again

Going grocery shopping isn't fun. The Wife and I sometimes go together. But not often.

Not that we don't enjoy going or doing things together. No, that's not it.

It's that we're completely different kind of shoppers.

And not that I think my way of shopping is better than her way of shopping. But, I shop my way. It's how I am.

Sometimes, I do a very good job of shopping.

Then, sometimes, I do really stupid things.

Like yesterday.

We went to Publix. And she didn't like it. Oh, she was driving, and in no way whatsoever insisted that we go to Publix. We were near there, after having eaten at the Cracker Barrel. And, she started heading to the big Wal-mart out at Hooterville (it's actually called "Columbus Park Crossing," but since the first thing built during the recent building boom in that area was a Hooters, we gave it that name). However, she decided to just pull into the Publix instead.

We started shopping, found, once again, that our shopping styles don't mesh, and started getting things we thought we wanted. Sort of shopping separately, yet sharing a shopping cart.

I will buy 2-liter drinks; she'll buy the 12-pack of 12-ounce cans. I picked up a 2-liter of Publix cola. And, hanging nearby, was some dispenser thingy. You removed the cap off the 2-liter, put this thingy in it's place, and you didn't have to open the 2-liter bottle again. No more "swoosh" as the air escapes. It'd keep the drink from going flat as soon.

At least, that's what it said. Sounded good to me. So, into the shopping cart it went.

Notice what I didn't say. I said what all I read on the label. But I said nothing about the price. Because I didn't read the price.

The Wife did. After we got home.

"You paid $6.99 for that coke nozzle?!?"

I look at her. "What?"

"$6.99?! You paid $6.99 for that nozzle?"

I think quickly. No, I don't remember what it cost. Maybe I didn't look at the price. Check that; I'm sure I didn't look at the price.

"I don't know."

"That what it says here!"

"Well, I swiped my card. But I finished loading the cart. You signed the receipt. So, you paid for it."

She was not amused.

Anyway, later, I opened the 2-liter bottle, followed the instructions, and put the nozzle on the bottle.

Everything works just great.

Except that it leaks. Both air and cola.

"So, how'd that work out for ya?" she asked.

"You're being mean to me," I told her.

She laughed.

And every time I got more drink out of the 2-liter, I could feel her stare. I'd turn around and she'd be looking at me. And laughing.

I'd had enough. "We shall not speak of this again!"

And we haven't.

But she has. She has the most wonderful laugh.

McCall's

The Wife likes to go to Wal-Mart.

I'm not a fan of Wal-Mart. But she is. And, when we're out, and when she gets the urge to go to Wal-Mart, we go to Wal-Mart.

Often, when she goes towards the girlie stuff -- fabrics, notions, knick-knacks, paddywhacks, whatever -- I will often head towards the electronics section, mumbling, "I need to check on blah blah blah."

Last time we went to Wal-Mart, though, I didn't. I followed along, pushing the shopping cart.

She headed to fabrics. And I saw something I didn't expect to see. Other than me in the fabrics section, that is.

She was looking at patterns.

Clothing patterns.

You see, I'm not sure how much, if any, of what patterns are I actually need to explain.

So, if you know what I'm talking about ... well, you know what I'm talking about.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's semi-see-though paper that has sections marked off that are used to cut fabric for sewing together to make something.

For instance, on the shelf in the closet is a patter for a Star Trek Next Generation uniform that was going to be made for me for ... what? ... Hallowe'en? Star Trek convention? A gag? I don't know, but the uniform was never made and the pattern still sits on the shelf in the closet.

Anyway, we were at Wal-Mart. The Wife went to fabrics, I followed her, and she stopped at patterns.

There were McCall's patterns there.

McCalls?

Didn't that used to be a magazine?

Well, it sure did.

My grandmother used to get McCall's magazine. I don't remember what was in it. Probably lady stuff. I do remember my sisters would cut out and play with the Betsy McCall cutouts inside the back cover.

That was a long time ago.

In 2001, Rosie O'Donnell got involved with McCall's magazine in some way, and it became Rosie magazine. It lasted a little over a year before it folded.

Anyway, I thought that was the end of McCall's.

Turns out I was wrong.

McCall's still does patterns, under the brands McCall's, Butterick, and Vogue.

I smiled when I saw the McCall's patterns, because it reminded me of the old magazine that was at Grandma's house.

The Wife bought some patterns. Maybe she'll make something. She probably will.

Unless it's a Star Trek uniform.

Mall panties

We took off to head to Savannah for a couple of days.

The impetus was my brother-in-law singing the National Anthem at a baseball game in Savannah on Friday night.

As it turned out, the game they asked to sing was a game between the Savannah Sand Gnats, my old team, and the Columbus Catfish, my current (but soon to be departed) team.

So, we decided to not only go to the game (or games, as it turned out) Friday, but to stay for the Saturday game as well.

Which meant spending the day in Savannah.

Which meant going to the mall.

So, we went to Savannah Mall.

And, on one end of Savannah Mall, on the second floor, is a Target. And, naturally, after stopping by the crafts store, we headed to Target.

Outside Target, on the floor, were some panties.

Black panties.

Not sure why.

Don't know if someone tried to get away with stealing them from Target and didn't quite succeed.

Or if the owner was in such a hurry she couldn't wait and tore them off.

Or if they just fell off.

Or if Tom Jones is making the mall circuit (a la Tiffany).

Or what.

I'm content to leave it as "or what."

There are some things it's best to not know.

Green grocer

The Wife and I went grocery shopping the other day.

She likes to shop at Wal-Mart.

I'm more of a Winn-Dixie guy.

So, naturally, we ended up at Publix.

Hadn't been to Publix in a while. So, some things were different.

Like the hippie food.

Actually, I knew they had a hippie food section. It's easy to spot. It's the section where college kids that dress like Linda Perry (during her 4 Non Blondes days) shop.

Only, it's expanding.

I found something called "Green Cuisine" in the frozen food section. And here's what Contessa, the company that made these dishes, says about it:

In 2007, Contessa opened the first environmentally responsible, LEED-certified frozen-food manufacturing plant in the world. Located in Los Angeles, our new plant uses advanced design and technology to significantly reduce Contessa's environmental impact. It uses half the energy and reduces CO2 emissions by 50% compared to a conventional plant built today.

The facility, its processes and the products manufactured there are known as "Green Cuisine.

Now, I saw all that stuff, and thought, "Hmm. I can pay more and feel good about eating frozen food when I drive my gasoline-burning Chevrolet several miles on an asphalt-covered road to a major grocery chain."

The thing is, some will actually think that and totally miss the irony.

I guess it's called "green" for more than one reason.

Mother-in-law's underwear

Sometimes, you find yourself looking for things you never expect. Like recently, before Christmas, the Wife and I were doing some shopping. In Wal-Mart, of course. Because the Wife likes Wal-Mart. I don't, but she does. She'd take a vacation at a Wal-Mart if she could. Anyway, while finishing up shopping, or trying to at least, she said, "Hey, let's go get some underwear for Mama." She's talking about, of course, her mother. My mother-in-law. Talking about me going to pick out underwear for my mother-in-law. Maybe it's just me, but I'm not picking out underwear for any woman. Except for my Wife. I'd pick out underwear for my daughter ... when she wore Pampers. Or Underoos. But not since then. But, there I am, and the Wife just told me "Let's go get some underwear for Mama." So, we start down the aisle, heading toward that section of the store. At the place where we turn right, we turn right. She says something, and I'm talking, responding. Not saying much, really, just talking. Because when I'm talking, I'm not thinking about my mother-in-law's underwear. Walking and talking. Talking and walking. Through the ladies' underwear section. When suddenly I realize I've passed the underwear section. So I stop, saying, "I think we've gone too far," and turn around. She's not there. No sign of her. I do get an odd look from the ladies who were behind me and who kept walking past me. The two ladies I had apparently been talking to since the Wife veered off somewhere, looking for underwear for her mother. I quietly walk back down the ladies' underwear aisle, looking for the Wife. She's not to be found. So, I break out the trusty cell phone and call her. "Where you at?" I ask, even though we don't have Boost Mobile. "Where are you?" she responds. "I walked all the way down the aisle, and am backtracking now, looking for you." "I'm over here, looking at underwear for Mama." "Well, yeah, I figured that," I said. "But where are you?" "Come on down about half-way past the center, then turn to the left," she tells me. Um, okay, I'm thinking. "How far down?" "Where are you?" she asks again. "I'm going down the underwear aisle, looking for you." "Come off the aisle, and you'll see me," she says. I hear her voice from ... somewhere. Somewhere other than from the phone, I mean. "Keep coming and you'll see me." I continue walking. "Right behind you," she says. I turn around. And there are thongs staring me in the face. No. No, no, no. Not thongs. I don't want to be shopping for underwear for my mother-in-law. And I sure don't want to be looking for underwear for her in the thong section. This has got to be a nightmare. Really, it does. But, it's not. And, it turns out it wasn't as bad as I thought. "I'm down here," the Wife says. I look down. And there she is. Sitting on the floor. Sifting through long johns. "I think Mama'd like these," she says. I still don't know if she got anything or not. I'm assuming she did. I was just so relieved that I wasn't participating in a thong purchase for my mother-in-law that I'd've agreed to anything. And, for all I know, I may have. I'm actually sort of glad I was sick and wasn't able to participate in the gift exchange at her mother's house. A silver lining, after all.