Redneck Buggy

Shaggy and I were traveling through our local Wal-Mart getting some cream for our coffee and tea when we decide to detour into baby land to look for a St. Patrick’s Day dress or shirt or something for my granddaughter. Well they had boy shirts and hoogies and pants and sweaters size 5 and up. They had infant onesies and jammies and leggings and shirts and dresses 0-12 months. Do you see what we did not see? No 18 month or 24 month or anything for a girl at all under the size of 10. Did Congress pass a law against toddler size girls celebrating St. Patrick’s Day? Are small girls out-lawed in Ireland? Are green dresses forbidden? I was fussed up and I was sharing my opinion.

A few days later we go in for items to make tacos. We parade into the lobby no problem. We march to the doors and what the ????? Three female type creatures have each engaged the service of a buggy and have entered and proceeded to stop, right inside the door. They swish open (just like the doors on the Enterprise) and we take two steps and come to a screeching halt. We cannot get through. We back up, loop around the table with the person peddling ??? not sure what and prance through the out door. This rude, inconsiderate, doltish behavior has once again fussed me up and I proceed to say as we go by “ hey why don’t you grab a buggy walk through the door and stop. Yeah, all three of you. Do you know each other?” Two employees who are standing there look at me and say “ oops I am sorry what?” (very politely I might add). “I was simply saying that perhaps those creatures should each get a basket, come in and stop just inside the front door so no one else can get in.” The employees look over to where I point, look back at me and then together say …….”huh?” OOOOyyyy !!! I scream in my head. They truly saw no problem. “Those three, the door, they stopped?” Same blank stare… Shaggy is laughing by now and grabs my arm and drags me off to get groceries.

Oh yes there is more….. We go in to Wal-Mart tonight to grab a bag of cat food. I have promised myself and Shaggy that no matter what crazy thing we see, I will not say a word. We will walk straight in, get the cat food, and get out. No looking, no stopping. We made it in through the door; we made it to the cat food. I even smiled at all the other shoppers. We are on our way to a checkout stand when I look up and there in our path not 6 aisles away is Jr. and his daughter. She is bringing over a buggy and he is holding 4 bottles of water and a couple other items. He hollers toward her direction “do we really need a buggy? People will think we are Rednecks!” I suck in my breath. “Oh no he did not??!!” I am thinking. Then it starts in my toes and flutters its way to my mouth. I bite my lips. I am trying….GOD knows I am trying. ( Redneck??? He is in Wal-Mart wearing I might add, a camouflaged ball cap and he is afraid if he pushes a buggy the other shoppers will think he is a Redneck?) I stare straight at him. I slide right up to him and I ask “Are you a Redneck?” (oh yeah I sure did!!!) Shaggy looks mortified, she had not heard what he had said. He turns bright red and stutters… “you heard that?” His daughter is laughing. I keep walking and do not look back.

I could write a book on my adventures at Wal-Mart.

I cooked the meat and onions. I smashed up the herbs. I started rue and then added a wee bit of ale and some peas and carrots and everything else. I have started the beer bread. It is St. Patrick’s Day and Shaggy and I are celebrating this evening. I pick her up from work hours later. The house smells wonderful. I mash the potatoes and slip the beautiful Shepherd’s Pie into the oven beside the baking bread. 35 minutes later we are eating beer bread with butter, Shepherd’s Pie and watching Murphy and Connor, also known as the Boondock Saints. Bliss….Just as the movie ends S and J come in with a bottle of whiskey. She curls her hair we drink a toast and off they go. Nice evening! No hang-over.

As Lady Tamara nibbles a bagel with cream cheese she ponders no fat cream cheese. Not that she eats it. But all the flavor is in the fat and isn’t that what it is made of? So what is non-fat cream cheese made from?

For those of you who have not seen All Saints Day I will sum it up. “Who ordered the whoop-ass fajitas?”

Will someone get back to me about the cream cheese please?