Amy and
I went shopping yesterday, Christmas shopping; a day I've been dreading and
putting off with a vengeance, well, since last December.
It's
not that I don't enjoy being one of Santa's elves for a day. Actually,
that part of the yearly scavenger hunt is fun. I really like trying to mine for
just the right gift or gizmo for friends and family. I don't always get it
right, but that part of the process at least keeps me sane. What I don't like
is the time consuming energy drain of navigating over-flowing parking lots and
elbowing my way through over-crowded stores.
But at least we had a nice day. I remember my years in Spokane and North Idaho, when my Christmas shopping was completed under stone-grey skies and sub-freezing conditions, or in a heavy snow. Even the last few years here in Grass Valley, it seems this day has managed to coincide with the rain. But yesterday was like spring; temps above 60 and lots of sun. I didn't, but could've spent the day in cut-offs.
The first half of the excursion was spent downtown, where the stores are small and cute and decked out festively. And claustrophobia followed me all the way. But there's nothing like living in a small town; everything's familiar and everyone's friendly. Some of the merchants and store owners I recognized, and some even ran the registers. For sure, these people know their stores and where everything is, and they answer questions with a smile and good cheer no matter how busy they are.
Later, when we broke for lunch, Amy and I chose another local hang-out, Paulette's Country Kitchen. Paulette herself always greets us by name, which automatically makes this place one of my faves.
But at least we had a nice day. I remember my years in Spokane and North Idaho, when my Christmas shopping was completed under stone-grey skies and sub-freezing conditions, or in a heavy snow. Even the last few years here in Grass Valley, it seems this day has managed to coincide with the rain. But yesterday was like spring; temps above 60 and lots of sun. I didn't, but could've spent the day in cut-offs.
The first half of the excursion was spent downtown, where the stores are small and cute and decked out festively. And claustrophobia followed me all the way. But there's nothing like living in a small town; everything's familiar and everyone's friendly. Some of the merchants and store owners I recognized, and some even ran the registers. For sure, these people know their stores and where everything is, and they answer questions with a smile and good cheer no matter how busy they are.
Later, when we broke for lunch, Amy and I chose another local hang-out, Paulette's Country Kitchen. Paulette herself always greets us by name, which automatically makes this place one of my faves.
Hey Rocket. How you two doin’? Follow me
Then after
she sets us at a booth, Jennifer always knows to bring me an ice tea (and is
generous with the re-fills) and Melody knows exactly what I want to eat before
I even ask: the 49'er Turkey Sandwich, no tomato, and fries. Sometimes I
cross her up and get salad, just to be obstinate. But it's just nice to go
into a place and, without fail, always feel welcome.
At "half time" we went home and emptied out the car from the morning's haul, then drove down to the much larger town of Auburn. We ended up at Target and I knew we weren't in Kansas anymore. Or Grass Valley. And I usually like Target, but today it just felt so corporate, cold and commercial compared to the first half of the mission. Nobody there was glad to see us, knew us by name or seemed all that helpful, except at the check-out line. And while it wasn't claustrophobic, I still felt hemmed in by too much crap everywhere. Grrrrr! I was instantly annoyed.
At "half time" we went home and emptied out the car from the morning's haul, then drove down to the much larger town of Auburn. We ended up at Target and I knew we weren't in Kansas anymore. Or Grass Valley. And I usually like Target, but today it just felt so corporate, cold and commercial compared to the first half of the mission. Nobody there was glad to see us, knew us by name or seemed all that helpful, except at the check-out line. And while it wasn't claustrophobic, I still felt hemmed in by too much crap everywhere. Grrrrr! I was instantly annoyed.
We were
looking for something for the last two people on our list, but neither of us
had any ideas. Oh, the isles were filled with lots of stuff, but nothing was
sparking any inspiration. The lovely Amy kept stopping to browse,
and then stop and browse some more. I just wanted to keep moving. Dang!
Up till then I'd done so well, too. But I'm just not hard-wired to shop
all day, I guess, because I started to get a little cranky. I am not a stopper
and browser; I am a hunter, gatherer and let’s get the hell out of here
shopper. So for the time being, this wasn't going to work. Amy told me I could
go wait in the car, which wasn't such a bad idea. But instead I just walked
off.
I went outside and took a half lap around the parking lot, but when I came back in couldn't find Amy. I went back to where we'd parted company, but she wasn't there. I walked up and down every single isle. But she wasn't in any of them. Where could she be? I wasn't worried, though. She had to be there somewhere. And I had the car keys so if she ditched me she couldn't have gone too far. But when almost a half hour had passed since I'd last seen her, I wondered if I should go to the main office report and myself missing.
"Attention Amy. We have your husband at lost and found. Please come get him. He’s annoying us"
At last I bumped into her near the electronics and videos, and it was like I hadn't even disappeared. She didn't seem terribly surprised to find me, or ticked off it'd taken so long to re-connect. Instead she showed me an item she'd been looking for in Grass Valley but found for a better price at Target. She’s always the thrifty one. But I'd put my long sojourn to good use too, thinking about what to get for one of our more difficult giftees. I gave Amy the idea, she liked it, we got it and were on our way. And we got it all done in just over an hour; even counting the 30 minutes I was "lost."
Emerging from Target, a check of the pedometers we both wear, indicated we'd each racked up about 10,000 steps for the day (appx. 5 miles). By then it was almost dark, too, and as the sun sank in the west, we headed for home, our shopping for Christmas 2010 completed. Except for a brief blip, attitudes had remained mostly sunny and Amy and I drove back from Auburn with a feeling of great accomplishment. The entire effort had been well worth it: nobody will be receiving coal in their stocking this year, we stayed physically active all day and done our small part to help--cha-ching!- keep the American economy humming along.
I went outside and took a half lap around the parking lot, but when I came back in couldn't find Amy. I went back to where we'd parted company, but she wasn't there. I walked up and down every single isle. But she wasn't in any of them. Where could she be? I wasn't worried, though. She had to be there somewhere. And I had the car keys so if she ditched me she couldn't have gone too far. But when almost a half hour had passed since I'd last seen her, I wondered if I should go to the main office report and myself missing.
"Attention Amy. We have your husband at lost and found. Please come get him. He’s annoying us"
At last I bumped into her near the electronics and videos, and it was like I hadn't even disappeared. She didn't seem terribly surprised to find me, or ticked off it'd taken so long to re-connect. Instead she showed me an item she'd been looking for in Grass Valley but found for a better price at Target. She’s always the thrifty one. But I'd put my long sojourn to good use too, thinking about what to get for one of our more difficult giftees. I gave Amy the idea, she liked it, we got it and were on our way. And we got it all done in just over an hour; even counting the 30 minutes I was "lost."
Emerging from Target, a check of the pedometers we both wear, indicated we'd each racked up about 10,000 steps for the day (appx. 5 miles). By then it was almost dark, too, and as the sun sank in the west, we headed for home, our shopping for Christmas 2010 completed. Except for a brief blip, attitudes had remained mostly sunny and Amy and I drove back from Auburn with a feeling of great accomplishment. The entire effort had been well worth it: nobody will be receiving coal in their stocking this year, we stayed physically active all day and done our small part to help--cha-ching!- keep the American economy humming along.
It was
a good day.
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