about pulp but I didn’t argue and assured him I would find some kelp-free O.J.
As you can see by the sign, were not in Kansas anymore. When Grits are clearly labeled on the aisle sign you know you are in a southern state. And toaster tarts…..don’t they mean Pop Tarts? But then again here pop means soda so I guess that would translate to soda-tarts and that would be pretty nasty.
After getting everything on my list I was on my way to the check out when I met Mrs. Freshley for the very first time. Now rumor has it that Mrs. Freshley can be found in most any state but she is HUGE around
here and I suspect we will be spending a lot of quality time together. Mrs. Freshley appears to be the Dolly Madison of snack food around here.
The very first item I decided to sample was a package of pink snowballs. They looked delicious and I couldn’t wait to get to
my car to eat them. As I was checking out the cashier scanned my snow balls and held them out to me. “Do you want to put these in your purse hon?” I was devastated. Hell no I didn’t want them in my purse, why would I want them in my purse?! “No thank you ma’am” I said focusing on my purse. She stopped scanning items, put one hand on her hip and said, “well why the heck not, you know you’re just going to dig through the bags looking for them when you get to the car. Its okay sweetie, everybody does it.” Appalled is the only word that comes to mind.
I shook my head no and she threw them over to the bagger.
I paid, pushed my cart to the car, unloaded my groceries into the back and then dug through the bags looking for the pink snow balls. All the while thinking that the cashier really had some nerve. Then, like a Mrs. Freshly junkie I ate those perky little pink snowballs in the parking lot
at the grocery store, periodically looking in the mirror to see if anyone was watching. And when I was finished I was covered with chocolate crumbs and little pink pieces of coconut.
And I promise I’ll do it again, but don’t ever expect me to admit it. Especially if you’re a Save-A-Lot cashier. The nerve of that woman.
Things move at a slower pace around here I’ve noticed and some people just don’t have the gumption to even move around it seems. In Monticello if I ordered a package that was delivered by the Post
Office the nice Mail Man would put it on my porch. It doesn’t work that way here. The mail delivery person drives a 1970 something Blazer and she pulls up in my driveway and lays on the horn until I come out to get my packages.
The first time she did it I was scared shitless and ran out the front door because I thought something was wrong. The second time I didn’t move quite so fast because I thought maybe she would actually get out and set the box on my porch but she didn’t. She lay’s on the horn, takes a
short break and lays on the horn again.
Geeze, I wonder if she’s related to the clerk at