I just discovered a grocery store called Trader Joe’s. I know I’m really late to the party, but when I get in a grocery store rut, I tend to stay in the rut for a long time. Hence calling it a rut instead of a quick digression. Like that. Anyway.

My wife, known to me [...]]]> by Richard

I just discovered a grocery store called Trader Joe’s. I know I’m really late to the party, but when I get in a grocery store rut, I tend to stay in the rut for a long time. Hence calling it a rut instead of a quick digression. Like that. Anyway.

My wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Adored, has been on me to go to Trader Joe’s for a while. Apparently, food snobs hippies people with discerning tastes have been raving about the place for a while. I finally went the other day.

Well, it’s no Skaggs Alpha-Beta (inside joke for old people who used to live in Dallas [hi, high-school friends]), but it is, um, interesting. Yeah, that’s a good way to describe it.

Mostly, I think the store is trying to get stuff grown by small vendors, no large farming concerns or big companies. They offer meat without all the good stuff like growth hormones or genetic alterations. You know, stuff that makes life worth living.

I’d been handed a cookbook of things I could make by shopping exclusively at Trader Joe’s. I’d picked out a meaty salad and thought I’d get moving on it. The place is sort of small and very short on canned goods, unless they’re organic or some other froopy stuff like that. Still it does have a good selection of cheap wine, some interesting beers and foods that I haven’t seen anywhere else.

Also? Every hippie in the Charlotte area was out shopping at Trader Joe’s. I haven’t seen that many pony tails on men since, well, since in a long time. (Hi, sis!) It took a while to get through the store, but turns out it was worth it.

I made a quick, easy salad with some nice chicken and black beans in it. Good stuff. So, if you’re into (sort of) healthy food, you might want to check out Trader Joe’s. You probably won’t regret it. (I know, I have the most forceful recommendations don’t I?)

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First off, yes, I know the title looks like it’s spelled wrong. It’s a pun, or a play on words. You’ll get it in a little bit. Seems there a bit of a kerfluffle around now about cul de sacs, streets that have one entrance and then end in the opposite side with a [...]]]> by Richard

First off, yes, I know the title looks like it’s spelled wrong. It’s a pun, or a play on words. You’ll get it in a little bit. Seems there a bit of a kerfluffle around now about cul de sacs, streets that have one entrance and then end in the opposite side with a circle in which to turn around. According to an urban planning professor, they’re bad. Bad for kids, bad for parents, bad in general.

Blah, blah, blah. That’s from me. (notice how I take such reasoned discourse when someone espouses an opinion that’s different from my own? I am the epitome of polite debate, yeah?) Still, despite the withering nature of my own attack, I feel the professor has a bit more to say. Shall we?

. . . if you live on a typical cul de sac, there is probably no way for them to walk to anything fun — the movies, the mall. So either we are stuck chauffeuring them (that’s why cul de sacs are so hard on moms), or they have to drive themselves, sometimes for miles, even to get a Slurpee. And the least safe place for teens to be is behind the wheel of a car.

Flabby kids and parents. Unlike our grandparents, we have no way of walking anywhere. And by the way, walking used to be a great way to meet the neighbors, too. Now everyone’s sealed inside their house or a car (and sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference).

Those are actually the thoughts of Lenore Skenazy, the lady to whose blog I linked. She’s paraphrasing the urban planning professor. Don’t you just love the complete and direct sourcing I give to you all? It’s impeccable.

But back to the problem at hand. And that problem is that they’re wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And I’m not just saying that because we live in a cul de sac. Although it helps. I’ve talked to a lot of our neighbors here about this and we all agree that these dudes and dudettes don’t know what they’re talking about. Our cul de sac lets out onto a smallish, but still busy street. Our little dudes get all the street-crossing problems they can handle, considering cars hardly ever actually stop at the stop sign.

Hop on a bike and they can ride along sidewalks to a small shopping center that has everything from a grocery store and a pizza joint to a hair cutting salon and a UPS store. I really think it’s the best of both worlds. We got a semi-isolated place for our little dudes to roam around in and we also get the ability to teach them about crossing streets and finding their own entertainment on a bike. That way they won’t get so fat there’ll be a natural-selection cull down the road. (See? There’s the pun. Not much, but it was all I had.)

I say, enjoy the cul de sacs for what they are. And, if you want to work on the little dudes and dudettes, just kick them out and lock the door for a while. They’ll get the hint.

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I realized the other day that I looked like a crazy person. Well, more than I normally do anyway. Okay, fine. It was a distinct difference from my normal behavior and I use normal in the loosest sort of way. Are we done now? Can we get on with this? Great.

Where was I? Oh, [...]]]> by Richard

I realized the other day that I looked like a crazy person. Well, more than I normally do anyway. Okay, fine. It was a distinct difference from my normal behavior and I use normal in the loosest sort of way. Are we done now? Can we get on with this? Great.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Right. Crazy person.

See, I was walking through the grocery store being very normal, but I was also talking to my wife, known to many as She Who Must Be Heard, on my bluetooth earpiece. Now, I keep my bluetooth in my right ear for reasons that escape me, but it’s always what I’ve done.

So I walked down the aisle (grocery, not wedding) and I passed this mom and her youngish little dude, maybe four or five, on my left. I kept talking. The little dude looked up at me and responded, but I only noticed it a little. I kept talking and walking, but I had to stop for some canned beans and the mom stopped for something else nearby.

I kept talking while I was shopping. The little dude tugged on his mom’s coat and asked, “Mommy, why is that bald man talking to himself?” Sure, it’s an old realization for most, but I’m slow sometimes. I had to look like an idiot, one of those people wandering the streets listening to the voices that tell them to run naked in the airports. (A voice I learned to ignore long ago. Once was enough.)

And the problem is, I hate being one of those people wandering through a public space and filling it up with my jabbering to the air. I can’t tell you the number of times I walked by a person, heard that person say hi or something similar, respond to that person and then see them look at me like I was an idiot while they continue talking on their hands-free phone.

So I propose we put a ban on bluetooth devices except when you’re in the car. It’s the only way to. . . Hold on. I need to take this call.

“Hello?”

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