My life is an Uncle Kracker song

Specifically, Follow Me. On so many levels, I consider myself a strong, independent woman. But when it comes to shopping, I am still just a kid. Any kind of shopping. Almost any kind of shopping turns me into pouty, grouchy, pokey kid shuffling behind the person who took me shopping in the first place. Today, it was Mom and the antiques. As previously mentioned, for most gift-giving occasions I give Mom a day to do whatever she wants. I take her to the place and then we do the thing and then we have lunch. Inevitably, "the thing" involves doing something with antiques. We went to the Ghent Antique Mall and I just followed along behind her. My desire to not be there so strong that it was like a cosmic force was pulling me towards the door. It was so strong I thought it might be visible. Like a big light pointing towards the exit. We'd get close to the door and then she'd be distracted by something else. I could hear the running commentary in my head, like TBO announcing a poker game.

Don: We're approaching the finish line Bob. The cash register is in sight with all of the accrued bounty for the day. They're tallying... Wait, WAIT -- what's this? Depression glass?

Mom: Heather! Did you see this? I think I sold this in a garage sale for $2 10 years ago.

Don: Bob, I don't think Heather's going to make it out as soon as she thought. This is going to be a tough course for her to navigate. Just past the Depression glass there's a collection of cookwear that Mom's grandmother used to have. Mom threw it away 20 years ago, though.

Bob: That's nothing -- just around the corner lurks several aisle's of Madame Alexander dolls. This is going to lead to a 15 minute discussion on where Heather's keeping hers and just why she hasn't tried to sell them yet.


Yeah. It's like that. Only worse. Because today, Mom gave pause to wonder if all the stuff she sold or threw away years ago that she was now seeing recycled again at antique stores all over was in FACT her stuff! No, I am not making this up.

But the main kid time with shopping comes when I go grocery shopping with Daddy. [Sidenote: For those of you who have wondered why I switched to calling S "Daddy" I feel I should point out that it is NOT for some psycho-sexual Electra-complex reason. Well, not entirely. Kidding. S was TOO abbreviated and I never really liked it, but I like the faux anonymity thing I have going on with everyone else -- TBO, Curly Sue, Scout, Mr. Kahlua, etc -- so it makes sense that the main person in my life should have some sort of nickname. Daddy's just the default name since everyone else on the planet practically calls him Big Daddy. Plus, I kinda like the shock value. Sue me.]

I guess it's natural that I should feel like a kid when I go shopping with someone nicknamed Daddy but it's not as if he fulfills some father-figure role in my life. He's my boyfriend. But we usually go grocery shopping every weekend, just about, and I always feel like a little kid when we go. Largely because the grocery store is a foreign land to me. But, he just goes up and down ALL the aisles and I follow along behind, like a little kid, occasionally throwing impulse buys in the cart, like a little kid. Maybe if I had some element of this grocery shopping thing in my own life then it wouldn't be so weird. But it is. It annoys me to NO end that I am forced to eat food every day in order to live and not just whenever I feel like it or just when I have the munchies. This seems like an antiquated idea to me, which is why I almost NEVER have anything resembling real food in my house. In fact, I think they should use my house for a season of Survivor -- see how long those fools could get along here with just the bare minimum and free range of Cafeteria charges. Not long. Not sure how I do it, to tell you the truth -- but I do! What a trooper I am!

Anyways. I think this is further proof why I could never make it as a professional writer -- too easily sidetracked by other subjects. Went from why shopping makes me feel like a little kid to my house being the center of the Survivor show. Crazy! And now I'm off to party like a toddler for the Little Prince's birthday!

HP