The box of presents to mail to California is ready, and since I will be out and about, I decide I will pick up a present or two. I look over the Sunday ads, jot down a few notes and plan my trajectory for the day. I will go to Big Lots first since it is west, then hit the post office, and move east where the other stops are.
As I drive down Ebenezer Road a pop song comes on the radio that has a pretty good beat, and I am bopping happily along. Then the singer sings something like "a Jay Z song." A little corny, but I'm ok. Then she repeats the line two more times: "a Jay Z song, a Jay Z song. Now I am not ok; I change the channel. I might have lived with a repeated lame refrain like that at the end of the song, but not at the beginning–even if Jay Z is a cool dude.
I look in my rear view mirror and see Santa driving a van right behind me. I think "Well now isn't that jolly!" But, despite a turn or two, every time I glance in my mirror, I notice that Santa is still right behind me; I begin to see something sinister about him. "Santa driving an old van mid morning on a weekday?" Very strange indeed. Fortunately as I turn into Big Lots he goes on by.
I cruise into Big Lots and don't bother with a cart. I'm just going to look at the tools to see if there is something to put in Russ's stocking and then glance at the men's cologne. (I checked out cologne at Dillards a few days ago just for laughs.) As I head to the back of the store, I notice an attractive roll of wrapping paper. I'm pretty sure I need this, and it's so cute and cheap. So I move on back to the tool section carrying my Christmas-blue wrapping paper. Sure enough there are some really cheap tools. And most of them look really cheap. But I pick up a couple of interesting items and grab a flashlight--Russ has a thing for flashlights. Then I head toward the men's cologne, passing down the Christmas goody isle on the way. A big bar of "European" chocolate with peanuts catches my eye. It has a cool looking wrapper, and it is only two dollars, so "What the heck," I think, "we'll have it for Christmas." The trouble with buying unknown chocolate at Big Lots is that you never know if it's a super deal and you really ought to buy two, or if it's junk disguised as a super deal. There is only one way to find out. Buy it and taste it. Once you open it, however, it loses some of its gifting possibilities. But at least you know whether you should return later and buy more–and to replace the one you already ate. So as I am picking up the chocolate bar, I notice some very yummy-looking peanut butter nuggets to my left. I return to the front of the store and get a cart. When I get back to the nuggets, I notice that there is only one jar left of the H. K. Anderson Peanut Butter original nuggets, so if I'm going to get it, I'd better grab it now. "Won't that be a really fun thing to put out on the counter when all the kids are home?" I say to myself. And since there is only one jar left, it's a good sign people are snapping these up like crazy. Probably H. K. Anderson is an expensive specialty shop in Europe, er a Denmark. Then as I'm zooming over to the men's cologne, I notice a book of Lifesavers--just like we had when I was a kid! Certainly I have to have that. I can put a roll in everybody's stocking, and I just know their hearts will warm with nostalgia.
Finally at the toiletries aisle, I notice a half-gone bottle of English Leather for $1; so I open it and take a whiff. Not bad, not bad at all. So I find some unopened packages and toss one in the cart: Five bucks, now that is a deal! But maybe there is some even better cologne, so I keep looking: Blue Desire pour Homme, Cool Water, Brut--I rather like Brut, but the name is so funny I have mixed feelings–plus it's been around since I was a teenager. By the way, checking out the names of men's (or women's) cologne--and the pics on the boxes--is a good deal of fun anytime you're looking for a cheap date: Lucky you, Eternity, Obssession (for men), Euphoria, Polo Sport, Canoe, Grey Flannel, Mesmerize, Stetson, Neo, True Religion, Prada for men, etc. etc. I rather liked Neo, but it was a bit pricey. I decide to stick with English Leather and also toss in the knock off of Dolce Gabbana Light Blue--Blue Desire.
As I stand in the check out line, I notice a man with his back to me in the next line wearing a North Face fleece jacket. It's a real nice looking jacket. I think what drew my attention to it was the lack of any cat hairs or lint on the lovely medium-dark brown fleece. The collar is turned up in back, and it looks very cool–not obviously cool, just cool. I think to myself, "What's a guy with such a nice jacket doing in Big Lots?" So then I check out his jeans. Not bad, not bad at all. Light, acid wash, nothing fancy, just pure coolth. I begin to think about the fact that with all the shopping and spending on clothes people do, it's strange that we somehow mostly end up looking pretty tacky and grungy when we go out. But here is this guy dressed nicely in an understated way, looking like he should be in a magazine. I haven't seen his face yet, but I'm hoping to get a glimpse of him when he checks out. So meanwhile, I look down the line to verify my notion that the rest of us look pretty thrown together. And I notice that, well, actually most everybody in line looks pretty dang good. Not as good as the guy, granted, but their hair is fixed, they have on nice clothes, some jewelry–obviously they spent a little time before they went off to Big Lots. That is everybody did except me. I start to think maybe I should go home and wash my hair and put on some earrings . . . , but, I need to get to the post office at least, so I stay in line. Then I get distracted when there is actual movement in the line I'm standing in, and I watch another couple of shoppers move from one line to another, trying to decide which line will move the fastest. So I forget to check out the guy with the North Face to see if he is cute, sorry.
I get in my car and pull out. But immediately I find myself stuck behind a car that is stuck behind another car the driver of which does not want, apparently, to turn into the McDonalds drive-thru–anyway not just yet, even though there is room. Eventually she decides to make her move into the drive thru, allowing the rest of us to head on toward Kingston Pike. The Trans-Siberian Orchestra's song "Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24" is playing and it's very cheering. I'm starting to regain my Christmas spirit despite my appearance and the $38 I just spent on who knows what. Now it is off to the post office.
(See Part II tomorrow: At the post office.)
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