Tag: shopping

Out Shopping

Get ready for an old man rant. That’s how it sounds in retrospect. Let it fly.

“Let’s go shopping,” my wife said. “Plan a day when we go out so I can get new exercise clothes. I want to go to my exercise class in person on April first, and I’d like to do it in something other than the clothes I was wearing two years ago.”

Yes, I agreed, because I knew what she was talking about. We’ve been strong isolationists, social distancing, zooming, vaccinated, masking, almost living like recluses. Well, recluses who have television and streaming services, computers, telephones, and safe friend pods. Maybe not quite recluses. Maybe, that’s an exaggeration. Maybe.

But we went through this before, where mandates were lifted, places partially opened. We took advantage of that. Our concern is that there will be some sort of new worrying spike and mandates and shutdowns will roll in anew. So we went out shopping and ate in a restaurant. Masks were worn while shopping. We wore masks until we were seated in our isolated, plastic walled table at the restaurant. We went early, to avoid crowds, but risks remain. The masked were the minority by far.

It’s been a while since I went shopping. I think it’s been a year. I saw some blue jeans. Levi’s. I thought, hey, they’re nice. Maybe I’ll buy a pair of denim pantaloons. The price stopped me: $69.50. For jeans? Off the shelf jeans? Levi’s? I remember when they were the jeans of the poor and downtrodden. And that at J.C. Penney’s.

Looking at shoes, I was appalled about how ugly and clunky men’s shoes have become during the pandemic. Lot of red, white, and blue stuff, too. I thought, I’ll have to watch people, see how many are actually wearing these. I suppose I’ll need to focus on the young, those who have not yet counted past forty years.

Wrigley’s gums come in Peppermint ‘Cobalt’ and Spearmint ‘Rain’. WTF? I read their ingredients: they looked like gum with a new name.

My superpower held solid, so I managed to find the worst checkout line possible at Target. It’s good to know that I can depend on that power. I perused magazines at hand. Know how much a magazine costs? $12.99 USD. What? Why, that’s how much a book used to cost. Now, of course, a book is $26.00 for a hardback, $16.00 for a softback. That’s why I buy used books or go to the library. Of course, many used books are now over $10.00

Then there was my beer: $7.25 for 16 ounces of Blue Moon. My entree was $11.99. My drink was over 50% of the price of my meal. That’s frigging stunning. They asked me if I wanted a 22 oz beer, but that would’ve probably topped my credit card’s limit. It only goes into five digits.

I guess it was all a shocker. I’ve seen food prices. We laughed about paying $50 at grocery stores and walking out with two light bags. Filling the gas tank on the Mazda was $45.

Stunning. I feel for the people on the edge. I remember when I had people working for me in the military thirty years ago, and the cost of childcare. It basically almost equaled those young people’s take home pay. I hear it’s become worse. Looking at the small sampling which I experienced, I believe it.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Good day, Saturheads. Today is December 4, 2021. Happy birthday to you, if it’s your birthday. Hope it’s the best one yet.

Day broke with a foggy layer. Appears to be yesterday’s fog, as the day decided not to change its weather, but to just use yesterday’s weather. “It was barely used yesterday,” the day was quoted on the net (so you know it must be true). “It just hung in the sky all day. Still looked brand new. So, what the cloud? I figured I’d economize, use it again. You have any idea how much it costs to put up that much new fog every day?”

Yesterday’s highs were never achieved as fog shut down the sun’s heat. We mustered 50, I think. Expect the same today. Currently 41 F six hours after starting at 39 when the sun stumbled in at 7:23 AM. I bout it will be much warmer by the time the sun bids adieu at 4:39 later this afternoon, just three hours from now.

Been out shopping. Visited Scoffco as Costco is now labeled for the preponderance of mask scoffers. They’re not worried about catching nor spreading no stinkin’ COVID. That location was the worse of the seven stores we visited this morning. Seven? Yes. My wife has begun collecting the props for her book club’s annual holiday party. (They are the Ladies #1 Book Club.) We were on a quest for napkins, marshmallows, and specific hot chocolate, but also did personal grocery shopping. I am the official driver and part-time advisor. “Will this work, do you think?” she asks, holding something up. “Maybe,” I sagely reply, peering at it.

Being with my wife on her shopping project, my mind adopted Lauv’s song, “I Like Me Better” (2017). She no doubt makes me a better person. Her presence helps me consider issues from the female side, and she likes challenging norms and sexism. My thinking has grudgingly expanded under her tutelage. It’s only taken five decades. That’s how long we’ve been together as friends, steadies, lovers, and spouses.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed — don’t be a Scoffco’er — and get the vax and booster when you can. Time for a coffee with a muffin, so excuse me. Back later.

Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Greetings, Earthlings.

We have landed on Tuesday, September 7, 2021. It’s not unexpected. Having been alive and conscious for most of the previous days, I have determined that the days follow a numbering sequence that begins when a new month arrives and then increases by one digit increments. As for the date, this society follows a norm that prescribed a standard order: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Once it reaches Saturday, the pattern begins again with Sunday. It can be quite complicated. Fortunately device and paper trails have been created to help us track these parallel systems. On top of those days and dates, there are twelve months. Twelve months comprise one year. Oddly, there are three hundred sixty-five days, which correspond to the planet’s trip around the sun.

Sunrise came yet later again in this area. Apparently, this is part of that journey around the sun. Sunrise was at 6:42 AM. Sunset, coming earlier, will be at 7:45 PM. This is an area which experiences warmth during this season of year. Temperatures will be in the low nineties. It would be pleasing, with the sun and clouds, were it not for the dense smoke and woody smell afflicting the nostrils and eyes when outside. Being free of smoke and pollution is taken as a given for so many; we don’t realize how spoiled we are until we lose it.

We went grocery shopping this morning. A big shop. Enough food to last for a few days. We went during vulnerable hours at Costco and Trader Joe’s. Picked up some favorites and restocked essentials. People were masked for the most part. One unmasked woman kept my wife’s attention. Said wife fumed at the women. Why is she shopping without a mask during the vulnerable hours. There are numerous reasons why she might not have be masked at the store at that hour. I didn’t comment.

“The Look” is drilled into my mental music streaming structure, insinuating itself as a loop. This came about because my wife gave the maskless female shopper “The Look”. My wife’s look isn’t anything like the look mentioned in the song. The bouncy song is about a young female’s mesmerizing ways. My wife’s look is more about driving a stake through someone’s heart. But when I saw my wife give it, I started thinking about the song. Now the 1989 song by Roxette is on infinite loop. To release it requires me foisting it off on another. Don’t know why; that’s just how quantum music works. Apparently, once a song is released, someone, somewhere, must be playing it either in their head or physically. The more popular the song, the greater number of people doing this. Consider it musical quantum entanglement.

Stay positive and test negative. Wear a mask and get the vax. If you don’t believe in masks and COVID-19 vaccines and believe you know better than medical professionals about how to treat your COVID-19 symptoms, please stay home and do it, then. Why entangle others with your pseudo-knowledge? Here’s the music. Back to my coffee. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Glory to you and welcome. Today is the old U.S. tax day, Thursday, April 15, 2021, when taxes needed to be filled, or an extension requested (and even if you get an extension, you’ll pay penalties and interest on any taxes owed). The tax deadline filing date is slipped back to May 17 this year, so you got time if you need it.

Sunrise came to Ashland in southern Oregon — boom — at 6:30 AM exactly. Sunfade is anticipated at 7:52 PM. What a bright sun it is, too, already warming our cool mountain valley air to 55 degrees F.

Been out shopping this morning, the usual Medford supply run for food and treats. Restocked my coffee (we are saved!). Love that French Roast stuff.

My mind started noodling the old 10,000 Maniacs song, “These Are Days”, when I was masking up while I was out. By old, I mean, 1992. These are days we’ll remember, I’m sure. Those just being born will hear about it. Those gathering again at high school reunions in ten years will be talking about, as will those getting married, and those of us just skimming along, doing our thang. Makes it an apropos song for any time, though I wonder what they’ll say about these days in a hunnert years.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Thickening fog is graying out this Monday morning in southern Oregon.

Hi. Today is February 22, 2021. The temperature is 39 degrees F. Sunrise and sunset are 6:57 AM, 5:52 PM, presenting us almost eleven hours of daylight.

My mind has been busy with dreams, reading, writing, and thinking. Among the thoughts. They mentioned on the radio that, oh, surprise, people are creatures of habit. Surveys show that eighty percent of Americans have daily routines that they follow. They eat the same thing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, go to the same places to shop, watch the same shows, etc.

Well, hello, yes. Much of this is driven by routines but by prices, selections, availability, health, and convenience. My breakfast, for example, is usually oatmeal. How it’s flavored varies. I add different fruits and nuts to it, or raisins, or peanut butter, or sometimes all of it. Yogurt with granola stands as an infrequent breakfast alternative. Once in a while, probably once a month, I’ll buy a breakfast burrito from a store. Once in a while, maybe every other month, I’ll have a doughnut or pastry for breakfast.

These things, though are driven by nutrition, taste, cost, availability, and convenience. I used to make and eat other things for breakfast. Metabolism changes, life style changes, and weight gain all started nixing how often I do that, along with convenience and laziness. Making a more elaborate breakfast (besides being pricier) is time consuming, and there’s cleaning up afterward.

Boy, I sound defensive, don’t I? But they’re right: we shop at the same seven places for our groceries when we go out. Those seven: Shop N’ Kart, Trader Joe’s, Costco, The Food Co-op, Market of Choice, Bi-Mart and Albertson’s. They’re all within a twenty-minute drive. They have decent prices. The food quality is good. We’re checked out places, but these are the ones we trust.

Enough whining. On to the music. Today’s theme song is “Sowing the Seeds of Love” by Tears for Fear, 1989. Don’t ask me why; it came into my head this morning, and I had no reason to not select it.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. We’re still a few weeks from being eligible for the vaccination, ourselves. Here’s the tune. Enjoy.

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The Measurements Dream

It was a weird shopping dream. A bunch of other things had happened where I was going around shopping but then I came to this point. I was helping people shop. Roped into it because I was there and knew what was going on, I was friendly and upbeat about helping others, eager to do it because they were grateful for the assistance. But then I encountered a trio. It seemed like a husband, wife, and older child from what I saw, but that’s a guess. White, all were overweight. I was helping them get three ounces of the product that they wanted. Measuring it out, I handed the white bag to them. “What’s this?” the man asked. “We wanted three ounces,” the woman said while the child hovered sullenly behind them.

I was confused because this was three ounces. I showed them the scale and measurement with the stuff on it. “That’s three ounces. That’s what you asked for.”

The woman smirked. “We want three ounces.”

Her smirk irritated me. “This is three ounces. Look.” I pointed at the scale. The line for help was piling up. “That says three ounces.”

The man and woman peered at it. “Where?” he asked.

I pointed again, moving my finger to emphasize where it said three ounces. “There. That says three ounces. You said you wanted three ounces. This is three ounces.”

The woman smirked. “We. Want. THREE. Ounces.”

WTF? Seriously. Looking back on the dream, it went on with more of the same. My frustration kept rising. With crowd noise growing from impatient people waiting behhind them, I was finally rid of the people only for them to return a few minutes later. Flummoxing me more, they insisted they hadn’t been there yet. “We want three ounces,” the man said. The short woman was holding the white bag I’d given them before. Their listless boy hovered beside her.

I asked, “Do you want three more ounces?” They gazed at me like stupefied cows, so I said, “Because I already gave you three ounces.” I pointed at the white bag in the woman’s hand. She looked at it like she’d never seen it before. “Isn’t that what’s in that bag?”

She said, “We want three ounces.”

I gave up. Just walked away. People called after me but I kept going with the thought, there’s somewhere else that I need to be.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

7:31 AM and 5:15 PM mark the times the sun rises and sets in Ashland, Oregon, today, Sunday, January 22nd. It’s 30 degrees F out, and feels like it. There are some days when the temperature doesn’t feel as cold (or as warm) as it’s supposed to be. That whole index and wind chill thing, I suppose. Today, though, felt 30 when we were out.

Yes, we were ninja shopping again, hunting fresh produce for soups, smoothies, and salads. My wife always times these things because experts say we should be in and out at the speed of sound because that confuses COVID-19. When people zoom by, COVID-19 reacts, “What was that? Someone there? Hello?” Then it forgets what it was doing and walks off muttering to itself, “I know I heard something. I know something was there.” Yes, COVID-19 is becoming old news.

I found myself humming “Days Like This” by Van Morrison. The song came out in 1995 but sounds like it’s from the 1960s. That makes sense because Van based it on the 1961 song, “Mama Said”, which was a hit for the Shirelles. I don’t know if I knew that before and had forgotten but Wikipedia claims it’s the truth, so it must be.

It was a day like this. My wife likes to be at the store at the beginning of time or the vulnerable hours, whichever comes first. I dislike shopping at the vulnerable hours, objecting to that expression, which is shorthand for “hour set aside for vulnerable and elderly people to go shopping”. To avoid the term, I tell myself we’re going at victory hour — you know, vee for vulnerable, vee for victory. I don’t want to call it the vee hours because there was a television show (and maybe a movie) called “Vee” about alien visitors. I don’t want to think of myself as a vee, in case I turn out to be a visiting alien the next time that I see a doctor. (Doctor: “It appears that you’re an alien.” Me, looking around, “Whooo, meee?”) Don’t mock me; my body is constantly revealing new information. Like, as my hair has thinned, I’ve noticed what appears to be a treasure map on my scalp. It could also be where a dead body is buried, so I’m not going to check it out, just to be safe.

On a side note, I had a special moment today. I went into the bathroom to do some business and not one of my three cats showed up to supervise, even though they’re all in the house and awake (because I saw them watching me on the way to the bathroom). Although I was first surprised, then hurt (“Don’t they care any more?”), I was then delighted to be in on the can alone. I so enjoyed it, I lost track of what I was doing and ended up wondering if I should paint the baseboards, of it they’ll just come clean with Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. Upon exited the restroom, I discovered one of my cats waiting for me. Looking at me, he said, “I would have come in, but it stinks in there.” He wasn’t smiling. (He sort of looked like Abe Vigoda as Fish on “Barney Miller”.) Then I encountered the other two cats waiting in the hall. They said, “He’s right, it stinks in there. You should have that checked out.” Like they know what they’re talking about. They’re cats. They can’t even open a can or use a spoon.

For the record, we were in the store for nineteen minutes and spent $115.10. That works out to $6.06 a minute. 2021 is gonna be an expensive year. I’m glad that we weren’t in there an hour.

Is there a song called, “Years Like This?”

Be positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. Here’s the music. Listen to it while I go get some coffee. I need it.

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