One More Hometown Story Then I Swear I'll Shut Up About It

On Saturday morning my Mom and I did "Old Lady Laps" at the mall. Basically we just walked the perimeter of the mall with all the other retired, early risers who don't much care for the great (and cold) outdoors. It was, admittedly, really early and none of the stores were open except for Shopko. Yes, Shopko- it ain't Target, it ain't Wal-Mart, it be Shopko and no, I'm not making that up. It's a real and true thing and it is the anchor of this particular mall. Make any assumptions you want about the quality and quantity of stores in this mall with that information.

Anyway, as we were walking I couldn't help but notice that some of the stores had tables stocked with merchandise set up outside of their gates. The gates were closed, lights off, no sign of any employees whatsoever but these tables stocked with sale merchandise were sitting out in the open. Now, I don't want to say that there was absolutely no security in place because that simply is not true. Those tables were covered with sheets. Yes, sheets. After staring about in disbelief I nearly fell over laughing. These country rubes leaving saleable goods out in the open with only a sheet to protect them! I laughed and told my mother that if this was Brooklyn these tables would be stripped in three seconds flat and you wouldn't even see it happen. My mother then challenged me.

See anything you want?

I knew she was only teasing me, but I thought about it for a second. Yeah. I could sure use a fake crystal Jesus candle holder/ potpourri pot couldn't I? I took a step toward the table. I reached my hand out but couldn't come near it. After all, there WAS a SHEET over it and that clearly means "Do Not Touch". The stupid honor system crap WORKED on me. I could not help but respect the sheet.

Okay. I'll admit it. I'm SUPER MINNESOTA! I won't touch the sheet. I won't take the last piece of anything just in case someone else wants it more. I always put trash in a proper recepticle. I keep myself to one side of the grocery aisle so people can pass by me. I say please and thank you and I'll flirt with old men if they flirt first.

Yeah, my sister, Pamela, and I were at the local grocery when an older gentleman addressed Pam telling her that he almost poked her because he thought she was HIS daughter. Pam flipped her hair and responded jauntily, "Well I would have just poked you right back!". Then she gave one of her pattented, girly, nose laughs and flashed him that pom-pom girl smile. Yeah. Minnesota girls are nothing if not friendly.

Yup. I'm polite. I'm friendly and I've got a heck of a work ethic. Occassionally words like "hootenanny" will sneak into my speach and my voice goes up one irritating octive when I have to ask a stranger to accomodate me in some way. For example, my voice went up into the "sweet range" when I was at the grocery store today waiting patiently for this fellow to move his cart away from the string beans that I was craving.

"Excuse me, sir? Hey. Excuse me. Sir. Since you are busy fondling cabbage would you mind taking your cart with you so I can get at those beans? Or I could jam this rotisserie chicken right up your freakin' ass." (Polite smile and head tilt added for emphasis)

I guess I'm a little bit country AND a little bit rock n' roll.