Tom, Dick and Harrison

Yesterday I took the kids to art. This is usually a non- issue, except when I have to spin small children on the pottery wheel. (Pause, while I sit and wait for hate mail about my abusive tongue in cheek comments.)

I don't have any problems getting to art. In fact, I have been like a virtual homing pigeon since living down here. I have discovered maps! Does everyone know about these directional wonders? I thought that gas stations were the only places that one could obtain directions. A whole new world has been opened up to me. Fascinating, truly.

So, yesterday.

I didn't get lost, I just wasn't paying attention. I missed my turn and was forced to do a U-turn or "Bang a u-ey," as we Yankees like to say. I made the first left that I could without even looking at what kind of establishment I was turning into. It wasn't until I was in the parking lot that I saw just where, exactly, I was. We have a few, oh, let's call them, places of ill repute down here named, Pure Gold Gentleman's Club, and that's where I landed.

All that I could think of as I was trying to make a right hand turn out of the parking lot was, how's my hair? Kidding, I'm kidding. I know my hair looked great.

Seriously, I was trying to get across three lanes of traffic because I had to make a left to get to art. I needed someone to be kind, someone to be courteous, someone like the burly guy in the dirty blue pick-up!

He must have known what I was attempting to do because he stopped and held up all of the traffic to let me make my big ol' turn across the highway. It was all good. I gave him the "thank-you" wave and a smile. He gave me a smile and, What's that?? A wink? He winked at me.

Given where I was coming from he probably deduced that I was a Pure Gold girl. Nay. I thought, Now he's going to follow me in hopes of getting a little hoochie-coochie dance. They don't allow hoochie-coochie dancing at art. I think.

(Note to self: Never say "hoochie-coochie" on my blog again.)

I get the kids safely to art and head to Sam's club to buy a 30 pound bag of lettuce that will most likely wilt before I can consume it all. I get on line, completely minding my own business when a man comes up behind me. He says, and I quote, "It musta been a woman what reconfiggered this place. I can'tnt find what I'ma lookin' fer."

It's a good thing that I had my Southern to Northern dictionary so I could decipher what he was talking about. Apparently someone, a woman, rearranged all of the Sam's Club merchandise for the sole purpose of disturbing this lovely gentleman, who isn't a sexist by any stretch of the imagination.

I let his comment about the "someone" being a woman slide. I did tell him that stores, in general, do that periodically to get you to buy merchandise that you would not otherwise purchase. He didn't care. But he did care very much, and very loudly about telling me that Costo was coming to town. I was so tempted to ask him if that was like Santa Claus coming to town but I refrained for I knew my love of the absurd would be lost on him.

I left Sam's and headed to Mayfaire. Mayfaire is an upscale shopping center that was recently built. They have a bunch of great shops, one of which is Pier One Kids. I found a great sale on a shelf for Jeremy's room and some totally rad skateboarding signs.

The cashier's name was Harrison. He rang up my items and I handed him my MAC card. I guess he thought that the credit card machine was taking a long time because he began to bang the side of the machine in hopes of coaxing it to take my money even faster. He was repeating the phrase, "Wake-up." I said, "You're in the South, everything is slower."

He began to laugh and said, "Yeah, I know. I just moved here from New York City." I told him that I knew it well, that we are from New Jersey. I can only assume that he felt some weird kinship to me because he came out from behind the cash register and hugged me!

The moral of that story is...

Don't tell people you're from New Jersey. Today a hug. Tomorrow, who knows.

Look to the finish!