Trip to the Red Bull's Eye

Sometime early afternoon the VOR, #3, and I headed out of the city to the local shopsthatareeverywhereelseinAmericaasphaltcentral so we could patronize a Minnesota based upscale (at least that is what they want me to think) KMart. Minus the fantastic night in Gretna to our first parade this marked the first time I have ventured out of the city in the past few weeks. (Benefit of living in a cool place, you never have to leave). So we strolled around the store where people where red tops and khaki pants for a good hour or so. (Supposedly the VOR said she would have completed her shopping experience in 15 minutes if I had not tagged along).

Not to sound too Jerry Seinfeld but have you noticed that damn near every grocery item has calcium in it? Bread with calcium, cereal with calcium, orange juice with calcium, potato chips with calcium. Pretty soon Americans will turn into one big bone, we will become one giant femur looking species where all of the Plutos of the world will just sit around and gnaw on us throughout the day (see Bone Sweet Bone, 1948 Disney).

The other striking find: Rhodia writing pads. I had heard that they were now available at the one store that bought all the advertising in the New Yorker a couple of years ago but doesnt sell the New Yorker in its stores but had yet to actually see the pads there. I saw them today. They were in the sale bin! Lying on the bottom of the sale shelf wallowing in pity, self-loathing and utter abandonment were two No. Rhodia pads one black, one orange. I bought the black.

When Your birthday is the day after Christmas

The VOR was born on December 26 an undisclosed # of years ago. Throughout the years she has suffered folk forgetting her big day due to the hubbub of the season; and she has had birthday gifts wrapped in Christmas paper. This year she reflected on some of the benefits: who else has never had to work on their birthday, who else still has presents to open the day after Christmas, and who else still has presents under the tree the day after Christmas (yes her presents always go under the tree). As I search for the perfect gift I start thinking months in advance but by the time Advent rolls around and I see how busy the shopping centers are I usually put purchasing her gift in the back of my head. Usually jewelry is a home run, but this year the VOR said how about a something from her favorite store.

Yesterday I ventured out to purchase a gift. Before going we both looked online at outfits and perused the offerings. I felt confident and sure, but once I crossed the threshold into the store I knew instantly I was out of my league. None of the clothes online were in the brick and mortar store and none of the colors (particularly the lovely shade given as Pomegranate) I admired were in the store. So I did the sensible thing I asked a saleswoman. Wrong move. The woman took me under her good Samaritan wing as if I just walked off the ship. She talked slow and loud. As if I would understand her better. We walked around the store, she asked questions, I described to her in exact details the top I had picked out online, but she did not understand me. Apparently I did not talk slow and loud enough. Eventually she led me to a section of tops and eventually I picked out a top and purchased it.

When I got home I gave the gift along with a poem and a magazine. The VOR looked at the top: it was just like the one she had on last night and in a color she has never liked. Today the top will be exchanged.