How Many Fish Sticks Do You Want?

It's pretty pathetic when I can make dinner for the whole house using nothing but the toaster oven.

Those Damn Kids Must Have Been Early

Why are there empty bags of Halloween candy in the trash and it's not Halloween yet?

Sometimes, It's Better

I wish I was creative enough to be able to write about some of the simpler and more meaningful things in my life without sounding both overly sentimental and outright boring. (And actually, I guess the "boring" part applies pretty much across the board).

With three of the four kids away at school, it gets awful quiet around here; quiet at least, in the kind of background activity I like.

Last weekend I celebrated a birthday. All the kids were home for a couple of days and we went apple picking together on Saturday. It was a great time: beautiful weather, out in the country, doing something special together.

For me the best gift came after.

I was in the kitchen making apple pancakes for the kids for dinner. While I'm pealing apples, Jake and Sam are in the other room playing together. Helaina and Rachael had decided to go through some bags that were in the attic and I could hear their laughter and talk from upstairs. It was a chance to be home together. That was my real gift.

Later the next day, I got to go on a walk through the woods with Jake before I brought him back to college.

Yesterday, I drove down to UMass hoping to see Jake march to the stadium, but I was too late. I went back home wondering how he was doing. I knew he was having a busy and emotional day, and I didn't want to bother him by calling. I figured I would give him some space and hopefully catch him later in the week.

Last night, Jake called me. I could tell from his voice he was drained. And, when I asked, he said, "Yeah, a little", which is unusual for Jake. We talked for a few minutes. I told him that I missed him earlier and he said he had looked for me, which caught me by surprise. I suggested that I pick up him up and we walk around the mall for a bit. I was surprised again when he said it sounded like a good idea.

So I drove down, picked him up, and we walked around the mall with a few of his friends trailing behind. We talked a little about his day and talked a little about his plans. But mostly, it was the kind of small talk people share when they are interrupting the silence of just spending time together.

All the Ingredients

Grocery shopping with Sam: 
1 box of Ice Cream Sandwiches
2 Bottles of Apple Juice
1 Bag of Pretzel Sticks
1 Hotwheel
2 Bakugan toys on clearance

We're all set.

Pass the Popcorn!

Thank God I took today off. Otherwise, I might have missed the Rachael Ray Show which is now blaring on the TV behind me.

I'm told that after the commercial break, we're going to see Julie's "new look".

Yes!

In my heart, I am applauding as wildly as the women in the audience.

I think it is time to let Sam go on the computer and save him from this. I will throw myself on the grenade.

It's All About Customer Service.

I was in Stop and Shop the other day, third person in the "Express" line. Apparently I have a misunderstanding of what they mean by "express". I thought they meant "fast". What they really mean is that the cashier, in this case "Tracy", gets to express herself to every customer that slowly makes it through the line (which, by the way, was rapidly increasing behind me).

By the time I realized there was a potential problem, it was too late. I had already dumped my items onto the conveyor belt and I was now trapped by the people getting in line behind me.

"Front of the Line Person" decides that she wants to pay for her items as three separate transactions. "No problem!" says Tracy. She's here to help! The first transaction comes to $10.19 and FLP hands Helpful Tracy a twenty dollar bill. Helpful Tracy asks, "Do you have 19 cents? That way I can give you back a ten." FLP fishes in her mini suitcase for about three minutes for ANY sign of change. Helpful Tracy is blathering on in an obvious attempt to make a new friend by displaying her skill at Customer Service.

FINALLY, FLP tells Helpful Tracy not to worry about it; to just give her the change. But Helpful Tracy will have none of that! Keep looking, we've got time!

Another two minutes goes by as FLP continues to fish around in the "purse" eventually producing a small handful of change. She holds it out for Helpful Tracy's approval. Both of them smile at each other. I think they're in love. Between the two of them, it takes another minute and a half to figure out which of the coins add up to the elusive nineteen cents. They're laughing at all their silliness. What great fun!

After this pathetic ordeal, the register eventually spits out a receipt and, barely catching a breath, Helpful Tracy  again springs into action. She explains the entire receipt to FLP who is listening with that same rapt attention that a kid does when they're read a bedtime story. (Note to Helpful Tracy: You've got the Gas Points wrong! It takes one hundred points to get one dime off per gallon of gas! Read the explanation at the bottom of the receipt! IT'S ALL RIGHT THERE!!!).

This scene plays out almost word for word throughout FLP's next two transactions: the fishing for change, the blathering on, the explanation of the receipt (including the misinformation of the gas points), everything! What's going on here? Does Helpful Tracy have some kind of problem? Does she not realize that this is the exact same person she has been waiting on for the last thirteen minutes?

Eventually, Front of the Line Person pushes her cart away, smiling sweetly. She moves on with her "life" having been fully immersed in the Customer Service Experience. I'm hoping I can move on with my life too.

Next up, it's Over the Limit Lady's turn. OLL had been getting just as impatient as me. But OLL knew she was over the limit and so, wisely, refused to to make eye contact with me. Too bad too, because while Helpful Tracy was basting FLP in Customer Service, I had been honing my look of utter contempt, ready to direct it at Over the Limit Lady for her breach of the twelve item rule. I was ready for the eye contact.

I waited for Over the Limit Lady to turn and look at me in a vain attempt to bond over this mess. But I wasn't going to go along with it. Instead, I used my time to rehearse my routine: when Over the Limit Lady would attempt to bond, I would glare at Over the Limit Lady for a split second. Then I would divert my eyes and glare at her groceries before finally retuning my glare back at her. It would be Ice Cold. I would shake my head and frown to emphasize my displeasure.

But the eye contact never came. OLL outsmarted me, and it only served to increase my building rage.

Over the Limit Lady was now making friends with Helpful Tracy. OLL breaks the ice by joking about how she has twenty-three items when the limit is twelve, and "I hope you don't arrest me". Ha-ha! Helpful Tracy laughs. They both agree this is very funny. I'm scanning the other registers for the Manager. Helpful Tracy counts the items and sure enough, there's twenty-three! No Problem! (Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out how Helpful Tracy can count to twenty-three but has trouble making nineteen cents in change.)

This becomes another bonding experience when Helpful Tracy once again displays her vast grocery knowledge for each item she is ringing up. She has Over the Limit Lady hanging on every word.

"This is ridiculous", I think to myself. "What do I do here? What's my plan?" I'm next in line, but this is meaningless. Do I make something up? Do I say, "Oh, I forgot the soup!", leave my stuff, and then bolt down an aisle and out the exit? "I'll be seen", I think, "Maybe I know someone here and I will somehow be held responsible for holding things up even further."  I'm starting to sweat.

I tough it out and decide I will punish Helpful Tracy when it's my turn. I will refuse to smile at Helpful Tracy . "Tough love", I think to myself. "She deserves nothing less."

Finally, Helpful Tracy is up to the receipt review. "...and you just earned forty-nine Gas Points!", says Helpful Tracy. "Gas Points?" asks Over the Limit Lady, "What are those?" "It means you get forty-nine cents off a gallon of gas!" says Helpful Tracy. NO. IT. DOES. NOT. READ. THE. DAMN. RECEIPT!!!!!

Over the Limit Lady strolls away. I take comfort in the fact that she will be getting screwed the next time she gets gas. Let's see how funny twenty-three items is when that happens.

Finally, FINALLY, it is my turn. Helpful Tracy tries weaving her magic, but it is not working on me. She talks about my groceries. She talks about her life. I don't respond. She is not my friend. She has ruined any chance of friendship. Oblivious to my subliminal message of hatred, she reads my receipt. "Do you know how to use the Gas Points?" she asks. "Yes", I say, "I just used them this morning".  This does not stop her from spewing her misinformation.

Fuming, I finally am able to leave her Aisle of Oblivion. I exit the store to freedom, but as I reach the car, it hits me. I really did forget the soup.

My Cape Cod Vacations, Circa 1965: Part Three

When I was a kid, I thought Cape Cod tourists were divided into two groups: those who liked the "Treasure Island" gift shop and those who liked "The Barefoot Trader".  Both shops were located along Route 28, not far from each other. 

We were definitely "Barefoot Trader" people. I say this because whenever we left "Treasure Island", Mom and Dad would compare it unfavorably to "The Barefoot Trader"... and then we would head over to "The Barefoot Trader".

"Treasure Island" was a store that was shaped like a big treasure chest. I remember it as being huge, packed with stuff out back that I wasn't allowed to touch. In front they had the kid of gifts and souvenirs that I appreciated: pepper gum, hand buzzers, x-ray spec's and the like. Try as I might, I couldn't get Mom to buy me the x-ray spec's. Even though they looked cool with the crazy swirls, she thought they were a waste of money even though Dad was the one who pointed them out to me while he was wearing them. 

X-Ray Specs: Miracle of 60's Technology.

I ended up getting some cool looking fake stones. I think they were meant to go in the bottom of an aquarium (which I didn't own), but I imagined them to be rare jewels; rare jewels that my brother and sisters didn't have.

The Barefoot Trader was an exotic looking building with a sharp pitched roof and big windows in the front. Over the entrance was a life size statue of the "Trader" himself, carrying a sack on a stick and looking a little creepy. It was years before I realized it wasn't called the "Barefoot Traitor"...with his shifty look, it had made perfect sense to me.

Leading off to the right was a sidewalk with bare footprints in the cement, presumably from "the Traitor". The fact that these footprints led away from the building only emphasized to me that this guy was hightailing it out of there. God knows what was in that sack.

The path led over to a giant tiki head which was pretty impressive, especially at night when a spotlight would shine on it. Further around the side was a swing set. Whoever designed the place had the foresight to design in something for the kids to do to while their parents shopped. Or, the swings could have belonged to some unsuspecting neighbor. Either way, I appreciated it.

What I remember most about the Barefoot Trader wasn't in the store, but next door. Off to the right of the store and forward of the swings, was an old house that looked like it was being used for storage. It was borderline deserted- rundown exterior, no curtains on the windows, overgrown grass. Once, in an effort to keep us kids entertained while Mom shopped, Dad snuck over with us to peer into one of the windows. He told us it was a haunted house...and it really looked it.

Trailing behind Dad, I slowly went up to look through the window with him into what was a large, long room. The air seemed a little dusty and it was pretty dark, but you could make out a lot of large boxes nearly filling the room. Some boxes had what appeared to be drapes thrown over them. Along the sides of the room were what looked to be half covered up paintings leaning against the walls. Towards the back of the room was a large ornate mirror, also leaning at an odd angle.

Peaking out from behind this mirror, I could have sworn I saw one of those flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. It looked right at me, blinked, and ducked back behind the mirror. I was terrorized. I tried to get Dad's attention but when I turned back, it was gone. Somewhere in that building there was an evil monkey flying around.

I knew better than to say anything at this point. This would be chalked up to me hallucinating from too much candy and soda. But too much candy and soda only made me hallucinate about more candy and soda. I didn't need to listen to the ridicule and scoffing that would surely follow my discovery. This was real and I knew better than to hang around. It was every man for himself. I ran back to the car. Let that monkey feast on someone else.

From that point on, every time we went to "The Barefoot Trader", I preferred to stay in the car.
The others would get out of the car and walk away toward the store and I would hear: "What's the matter with Rick?"
"Oh, let him stay in the car", would come the disdainful answer.

But I knew... I knew.