grocery shopping in the suburbs

I like grocery shopping. I actually enjoy it, much to the dismay of many a roommate or partner. Certain things about it (crowds, rude people, the mombies, screaming kids) can be avoided if you figure out the pattern or have the time to shop at hours not packed with tired people just looking for frozen food. But I really do enjoy the process of selecting things to eat, looking at the shelves, examining things and reading labels.

The grocery store is one of those places where one inveitably has weird intersections with humanity. Today I aksed the cashier if the tattoo of music notes wrapping around her arm was a song. I couldn't quite place it because there were no scale lines. She had that expression that says she gets that question a lot and I felt a little bad for asking. It wasn't anything, just notes. That is a big missed opportunity. If you're going to the trouble of putting a chain of notes around your arm, make it something! The opening riff from "Sweet Child of Mine" or a bit of "Flight of the Bumblebee" would work. Anything!

My other grocery store encounter was on Monday, where I ran into a group of what appeared to be those splinter sect polygamous Mormons. I knew they were out in West Texas but I wouldn't have thought to see any here. While I don't know for sure that is what they were, there aren't many groups down here who make their women wear handkerchiefs and bonnets in addition to their ankle length skirts. They were traveling in a pack - two women, several children and one middle aged man. The man stared at me as I passed them in the aisle and I wanted to laugh or say Dude, I am hardly the weirdest looking person here so what gives? Maybe I passed too close to the womenfolk. Whatever it was, it was weird.

I do always regret not buying cookies by the time I get home.